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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1319621-The-Great-Understanding
Rated: E · Short Story · Philosophy · #1319621
This is a short story of a man who finds understanding about the purpose of life.
The Great Understanding


Henry, walking aimlessly and in no particular direction, took a deep breath and found the air to be pleasantly cool but the atmosphere warming. The scene before him was one of pastoral wonder and beauty. The Leafs were in turn and were beginning to make their way to the resting place of their ancestors. Their descent was slow and peaceful and gave the impression of steady, eloquent speech. The sun, just now embarking on its trek across the blue October sky, shone placidly through the branches of the tall oaks and spreading chestnuts. It’s light orange glow brooding over the tops of the rolling hills in the distance. Clouds, coming in from the west, hung large and intimidating in their white grandeur. At a distance they were just perceptibly out of focus, but one could assume they carried the promise of something more than a shroud for the morning sun.
The morning was alive and inviting; it’s scent sweet and forgiving. A brown squirrel moved hurriedly over dead leafs and fallen branches to secure for himself a store of food for the winter months. Small birds were singing their morning song that was, quite possibly, in anticipation of warmer days in escape of the coming cold. As Henry continued forward he was confronted by a large upward slope. He stood ponderingly in front of his newly found adversary and, after raising his eyebrows and contorting his face, continued saying, “Why, I do believe I could use the exercise.”
So, with a tinge of anticipation and a little excitement, Henry began his ascent. Having never been to this area of the land, he wasn’t sure what to expect. In his brown leather jacket and narrow blue jeans Henry trudged up through the resistance of small trees and the force of gravity that pulled on his old tired legs. A light breeze blew his thinning gray hair up in small tangles that settled after a quick movement of his hand. He was out for a morning walk, something that became a ritual in his old age. Henry had a goal to explore his entire three hundred acre farm and every morning he made out for an area yet to be navigated.
He had reached the summit of the hill and his eyes fell upon the unexpected greatness that was before him. What he saw struck him with a startling suddenness. He had come to the edge of a valley spreading vast along a string of mountains that lay in their majesty under the morning light. The great river, wide and immense, glistened and sparkled as it flowed with its’ unending determination. Trees stretched endlessly over this great wrinkle in the earth and their leaves shone golden in the eyes of the onlooker. On the top of the trees hung a diaphanous gray fog that seemed to have the whole valley in its grasp. The entire scene glimmered in a faint haze that made Henry wonder if he could possibly be dreaming. The edge of the ground on which he was standing ended in a sharp drop that would likely end the life of one caught unaware. It was as if it was a barrier, or a blockade, or a warning. A warning to anyone that threatened to invade the great stillness that pervaded over the valley like a quiet intensity.
For a moment, Henry began to get a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. At first it felt as though it was despair or melancholy but that quickly slipped away. The feeling conjured up inside of him a childish excitement that was only present in the hearts of giddy young children on Christmas morning. It was the feeling present when one remembered the life of a loved one long passed, or of special moments long forgotten. It was the feeling one receives when observing a wonderful piece of art, or listens to a classic ballad. The feeling grew so immense that its’ weight heaved and pulled inside of him giving him the impression it was some offended entity.
Henry, his body making a shapely silhouette against scene found himself, not just physically but mentally, at the edge of a great chasm. The sun was now yellow in color and shone on Henrys’ face, outlining every wrinkle and fold. His hair blew freely over his head and his eyes began to water and tear at the splendor and magnificence of the sight. It was all so familiar to him; the feelings were. He had a great desire to find their mean and significance and, after much thought it suddenly came to him. In a moments time the web of complexity that was strewn about in Henrys’ mind drew away from its position of shuffled madness and settled itself down to form a great revelation. As the realization of the conclusion settled upon him, Henry took a slow steady breath to calm himself. As he exhaled, his cold breath issued from his mouth and hung in the air suspended in a singular and wondrous fashion as if time had slowed.
“This is life.” Henry said. “This is every emotion encapsulated into this beautiful valley. Fear, love, dread, nostalgia, kindness, and any other human feeling is represented in the greatness of nature and the wondrous glory of its encompassing presence. This is what the great philosophers have been searching for. This is our base purpose. We are to revel in greatness of Nature that bore us of itself and provided us with a lush sanctuary in which we are to exist. This is the great understanding.”
© Copyright 2007 Edward Shallow (mockingbird03 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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