What is essential?
To sit at the window in the passing hours, drinking, studying the nuances of the shifting ocean. Watching sunbeams across the table, not thinking of anything but passing ideas. From the threshold of the cabin, watching the seasons and the magic of the eternal return.
The being is taking root: at the edge of the world, time does not matter. Between dreams and memories, there is the present.
Restricting movement and action to go deeper, trying to make the moment last forever; the Buddhist satori, that fleeting moment that disappears once glimpsed.
The scent of forest slipping in through gaps, earth resting beneath the wooden floor, waves crashing in the distance. Sparks from the fire rises towards the dark sky, fades and melts into the stars.
One absorbs the universe, paying attention to its details – impressions enhanced by solitude. The purpose of living is right here. Why believe in a spiritual force outside of nature?
The religious mystics longs for a place beyond Earth. The cabin dweller wants to be a part of it.