The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
John Milton, Paradise Lost
You are going to need experiences that startle you. Places that stand you astounded and silent, utterly captivated by all the beauty you never knew were possible until you saw it in that moment. Where the skies are a crisp cold blue like you’ve never felt, and below, the quieted souls of this worlds truant to the hills are drawn for their repairs. People, infrequent as meteorites that light up your night and awaken in you something deep and slumbering that cannot again find favour in rest. They change you so remarkably irrevocably, haunting you forever after, that you begin to prefer to plateau and reminisce on them, than carry on without. You’ll never again catch sight of a flame in the sky quite like it no matter the much you look. You’ll never again be dressed in her sunshine glance.
You are going to again need those long roads going nowhere, into the Arctic domain of some twisted and towering mountain range you only seem to approach or pass and never arrive at. A long enough break amid the wilds to remind you how in vain are all our plans and worries the while.
No wind was felt or visible. Such quiet has been absent recently and it’s been a while now I figure, since I have stopped long enough to enjoy the changing seasons and fascinate at Nature. Soul, where are you going?