The meditation left me with much to think about, it was a fine culmination to my thoughts the past month. There was quite a bit to it and I fear I may have lost a few parts of it in retrospection. In some cases, hindsight isn't quite 20/20 as the saying might have it. I always feel that there is a tendency to have a bit of tunnel vision when looking back, but that is besides the point.

It began with a trek down a familiar path out to a cliff, continued down a set of steps and through the portal. I stepped out into the familiar forest. Crisp colors greeted my eyes. The vibrancy of the woods was something special, I can only believe that in the times of our ancient past the world looked like this; no longer though. There aren't enough places like this in my life. I doubt there are in anyone's life nowadays.

I followed the path into a darker part of the wood, thickened and overgrown. Two monstrous oaks towered on either side of the trail, forming a natural gateway between the day and the night. Across this border a full moon hung in the sky and the path was enveloped in shadows. It was well traveled though. At least, it was until I reached the river.

I crossed that boundary on a tree upstream. This great-great-great-grandfather of the wood had forded those rushing waters long ago.

Past the river I came upon some heavy brush. Navigating them brought me into a clearing. The moon shown down brightly upon the open space. Sitting atop a boulder across the way was an old woodsman. He was kind of scruffy with short, black hair. Nothing about him gave me the idea that he was anything but capable. He radiated a kind of vibrant health. And he held a small smile with a hint of mischief in his eyes. His clothes were well-worn and functional, nothing on them to mark him.

I approached him and smiled. We greeted each other with mutual respect. No names were used, none were needed. Not saying much I glanced at him and noticed a staff lying next to him on the boulder. I eyed it curiously and he handed it down to me that I might weigh it. I hefted it in my hand and gazed along its length. Of maple wood, it was very natural, full of knots and covered with bark, nothing like the `pretty' staves many martialists use. I smiled and leaned it against the boulder, then looked back up at him with a smile on my face.

He grinned with a twinkle in his dark eyes and gave a slight nod.

For a time we sat there and whether or not we spoke is hard to say. Regardless, I learned some things about the warrior he was.

He bad me know that at the center a warrior must be both a wizard and a lover. As a wizard one must understand the worth and the reason for the wars one fights. Always question the orders that need questioning, for it is human to err.

As a lover one must know that there is more to a life than the simple achieving of goals. There is a simple-mindedness that stays within the lover, a child-like mind that does not worry, or second guess. In thinking on this I am reminded of a story of a dying man on a battlefield. The tale goes something like this;

On a field of war after Slaughter has passed on, comrades come upon a fallen friend who is near to death. As they try to make haste and aid him that he might live, he simply looks up at the sky and smiles. The purity of the clouds and the depths of the open, watery sky. Nothing in his life has ever been so perfect, so utterly fulfilling. `Such a beautiful sky,' he whispers, `such a beautiful sky...' and with that he is gone.

I cannot attribute that to anyone, and neither can I claim it as my own. It is a bastardized version of what has gone before. It makes me think of a fault that I attribute to the `Warrior', that he cannot, or does not, see the beauty in the natural world, or in any world for that matter. It is the ability of the lover to see this and not enough `Warriors' know this `Lover'.

Ah me, but back to the man. He spoke to me of one other thing, which was a warning about the nature of the mind. He told me that it was a dangerous thing and that if one did not `know' it explicitly it could turn against oneself. What exactly he meant by `know' is hard to say and I leave that meaning to remain ethereal for I could not do it justice with words.

After a time I took my leave of him and wished upon him that he might always have water and wine. Why exactly I said this I am unsure, but it felt entirely appropriate and natural and when he echoed it back I knew it to be a good thing. Upon reflection after the fact I have interpreted it to mean, may you always have that which is necessary for life and the means to enjoy it. I enjoy that thought.

As I traveled back through the brush and across the river and back out the path I was overwhelmed with a buoyant feeling. I retraced my steps and stopped at the top of the cliff to turn and look out over the world. The sky was sharp and crystalline clear. Soft, pure clouds drifted across the ether and I sighed heavily. Too often I forget about this... much too often. This must stop.