The man lived on the top of a hill in a cave with an entrance covered in thorny shrubs and vines hanging from above. One could easily miss the cave’s mouth if one didn’t know what to look for. But the man knew what to look for because it was his home. He didn’t leave his home too often and that’s why there was no trail leading through the shrubs to the cave’s mouth. He stayed inside, in the dark, for many days at a time. He had a fire going all the time with wood he had collected. And he cooked rice on it that he had brought from the village. Sometimes he went out to set traps and catch little animals and he ate them with his rice but most of the time it was just salted rice for him. Other than that he slept a lot in the dark with his back to the fire. And other than sleeping and cooking and eating and hunting and gathering and going to the village for more rice, he spent the rest of his time thinking.

He thought a lot. He was a thinker. He didn’t write any of his thoughts down because that would make him a writer. He wasn’t a write-thoughts-downer. He was a think-thoughts-deeper. Deeper and deeper, down and down, into his subconscious mind he went. Sometimes he forgot if he was going deeper into his mind or deeper in his cave. The two became inseparable. He felt as if he was reaching for a light. There was a hint of a light at the center of wherever he was going. Or maybe he was imagining it? If you’re in the dark for too long, the memory of light begins to seem like there is a light in the distance. But maybe he was approaching a light. Maybe he was approaching the center of the earth. Maybe he was approaching the center of himself. Perhaps he was about to uncover some hidden deep truth that would change his life and humanity’s journey forever. But before he could do that, a bear entered the cave and ate him.

Cover Photo by Iswanto Arif on Unsplash