The wind showed him the way.
They say he arrived one autumn afternoon in that almost unknown village lost in the middle of nowhere. He arrived with worn-out shoes, probably from walking so much. No one in the village knew him. He lived in a boarding house for a few days, but left without saying a word, without speaking to anyone.
The village is surrounded by virgin mountains and a stream. I liked to go out for walks. I enjoyed seeing the changes in the landscape throughout the different seasons and recognizing the songs of the birds. I enjoyed watching the animals, which often stayed close, looking at me trustingly. They knew that whenever I could I would bring them something to eat.
On one of my walks I saw him. He was standing with his back to me, looking out over the valley. He had obviously not left the village, as everyone thought. From where he stood he could see everything, but it was very difficult for people to see him. I don't think he realized that I was watching him.
So every day I started leaving him some food nearby, but always without him seeing me. Actually, I don't know if he noticed my presence or if he was simply absorbed in his thoughts, his memories, his past, his future. I don't know
As time went by his hair and beard began to grow. His clothes also began to fade and age. How old was he? Perhaps fifty, but I couldn't estimate his age with any certainty.
There is always a strong wind in the mountains. The kind of wind that makes your ears ring, that blows dust and leaves and everything else. And he was always there. Sometimes sitting, sometimes standing. staring at the horizon, facing the wind, his hair and clothes fluttering. Intrigued, I wanted to know, or at least imagine, why he was there alone. Completely alone. I watched him from afar, hidden among the bushes, trying to understand his feelings, his thoughts...So autumn and winter passed, which that year was not very harsh. I had left a blanket for him to keep warm. By summer he had taken off his shirt and was wearing only pants. He had cut them into shorts, but he remained in his usual position. Now he let the sun tan his skin. The days passed and I continued with my routine of bringing him something to eat. I began to think it was time to take the plunge. I started bringing him his clothes one by one, a T-shirt one day, a pair of pants the next. Finally some sandals. The clothes disappeared from where I had left them, but I didn't see him wearing them.
But I didn't lose hope.
Finally I dared to do it; it was the thing I was most afraid to leave
behind: a pair of scissors and a small mirror. I didn't know how he
would use the mirror. What would he look for? Would he look toward the
future or toward the past? I didn't know what would weigh more heavily
on his soul...
I waited a week; I didn't want to go back sooner... It was his time, his
decision. And I had to respect that.
When I returned to the place I only found the scissors and the mirror.
But they weren't in the same place where I had left them. They were
placed side by side in an area where the grass didn't grow, there was
only earth. I also saw a piece of branch. On the dry, compacted earth, I
could clearly read the word: GRACIAS.
He wasn't there. He was gone. That showed me that he had decided to look to the future. I believe that the strong wind from the mountain had cleansed him, taking away all the bad memories and experiences of his life. He must have had many, since it took him nine moons. Nine moons to conceive a new life. To decide that he could start again.
I was just a kid at the time, maybe thirteen or fourteen, but that experience had a profound effect on me. Over the years I have come to understand that in solitude we struggle within ourselves, with our own demons. Alone, to avoid anyone judging our decisions. Alone with our own conscience. And giving ourselves time, as much time as necessary to heal our souls. Walking in darkness with our candle unlit, along the spiral path that each of us must follow until we reach the central light where a flame of hope awaits us. Before it, we relight the candle of our inner light, which will illuminate our way back. And when we return from that journey, let the wind blow our clothes. Let it ruffle our hair. With the help of the sun's rays and the moonlight. Sustained by this blessed earth. Then, strengthened, let us celebrate our reunion with ourselves. With our essence.