My Enlightenment, Part 1 “Significance”

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I climbed the slopes of Om Parvat to seek a wise man.
I was told he’d spent fifty years seeking enlightenment.
When finally I topped the ridge by the corrie 
I lay, breathing heavily, dizzy, exhausted from the climb.

“Do you see all of this?” I heard. Sitting up, I found the source,
a small man sitting wrapped in tattered brown swaths.
“Pardon me… Baba?” I said, struggling to recall the honorific.
He did not acknowledge my pointless question.

I quietly turned to share his view, having feared before.
The harrowing drop beneath me had kept my eyes directed up.
I now allowed myself to witness this dazzling glory 
sitting safely on the ridge. I still felt the waves of dizziness.

“Do you see all of this?” he said again with quiet gravity.
“I do,” I said, hesitantly, glad to know the answer.
“Tell me what you see,” he said, without looking at me.
“I see nature’s beauty all the way to the horizon.”

He grunted but otherwise remained silent.
Unsure what how to react, I sat quietly with him.
The valley was enormous, vast with colors and textures,
the land beyond even more so, like a mosaic.

I could imagine it going on forever.
I suddenly felt incredibly small perched there,
a tiny speck on the side of a tiny copse, unnoticeable, 
on a tiny hill in this expanse. I felt my heart beat.

“Tell me what you see,” he said again, eyes forward.
“I see that I am completely insignificant.”
“Not completely, but close,” he said, with a hmpf,
finally looking at me, acknowledging to whom he spoke.

“No being is completely insignificant, but,
often we imagine we matter far more than we do.
Compared to this,” he said, arms in front of him,
“we are but small candle flames in the vast dark.”

“Is that all we are?” I asked, feeling even smaller.
“Does that trouble you?” he asked. I admit it did.
“I feel something bigger than that inside of me.”
“So does a caterpillar.” This was a sobering thought.

“So what is the point, then? Why bother at all?”
“Fifty years up here asking, answering, observing,
and I have barely glimpsed that answer, shishya.”
“Is love pointless then? The endeavor of a caterpillar?”

“It is the only endeavor of worth,” he said, “Know this.”
He smiled for the first time, drawing the lines on his face, 
and his eyes seemed to sparkle as he shared this with me.
“It seems a contradiction, Baba,” I said after a moment.

“A perfect thought to contemplate on,” he said, standing up.
He seemed more frail than I realized as he struggled, 
a segment of branch in his hand to help him rise.
“Meditate on this and we will speak again here tomorrow.”

The thoughts in my head, the rustling of the wind,
the movement of water in all it’s physical forms,
these invaded the quiet of my mind as I contemplated. 
That night I slept fitfully on the floor of his rude dwelling.