“He merely held still with quiet happiness because his brother had said that he would return. He was prepared to wait, without doing anything, without moving, for several years if necessary.”
Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land
As the Piano Concerto №23 by Mozart is flowing, I get into the mood of extraterrestrial waiting. Not expectation, not patience, just waiting with no other admixture of emotion. Have you ever tried to empty yourself of all the feelings and dissolve in just one you select for enjoying in a moment? It is like stepping into the crystal-clear water of an eternal spring where there is at first just you and the coolness of the water, and then it’s just water, and then there is no you anymore. The “I” exists but in a different dimension, it becomes odd to have it present in such a serene place and sacred moment.
A bit of sadness tries to get in, and you let it flow through and on. A drop of tear starts rolling out but that’s it, nothing may disturb the limpidity of the pure waiting. It has no color and needs no shape. It has a scent of the softest skin that is almost translucent in the moonlight, and it glows, and time has no power neither over it, nor over my memories of it. Someday we will meet again, and the unearthly feeling of holding still will smoothly transform into something different but as pure and precious… what will it be? I do not know. I am just waiting.