He sat in the lotus position on a mountain, somewhere in Europe, probably.
Maybe it was meditation, maybe it wasn’t. He was completely alone. Alone with his thoughts. He was thinking about nothing in particular. It was not a thought, but a feeling. Maybe an emotion. Something that was always there. It was meant to be there because it was eternal. It was a feeling that got under his skin and in his head and in his heart. It was all-consuming. It was insidious and it was inside him. He felt it all the time. He knows it is not a panacea to be used in an uncertain and threatening world. Yet he knows that both darkness and suspicion may reside within it. It went with him to his dreams. As inseparable as his shadow, it never leaves him.
Was it a feeling of guilt or joy? There! He’d asked the question. He didn’t know. And did it make sense that he didn’t care? There was no known method of meditation that could cure it. That was perfectly fine as he didn’t want it cured.
Whatever it is, he chooses it to be.