A body in motion stays in motion, he thought. One of his closest friends had told him that, once, and it was foremost in his mind as his lungs gratefully accepted the great draughts of air, in through the nose and out through the mouth, in through the nose and out through the mouth. His feet barely seemed to touch the earth, though at the start it had been more like they were gracelessly pummeling the pavement. As in all things, we struggle until we accept and we accept until we rejoice, and all sense of division falls away.
At the end of the cul-de-sac, he slowed to a halt and settled down on the easement between the sidewalk and the street. Leaning backward into a supine position, each blade of grass caressed his arms, his neck, his ears like a lover welcoming him home. His breathing remained heavy, but without struggle and with no sense of desperation despite the urgency. His eyes closed against the light of the sun, all he saw was red.
& then he was on his feet once more, taking those first few steps to his point of origin. The world rose up around him like a dream, a most perfect dream—phenomena arose and fell away, and something ancient observed it all. This had happened from time to time, from his earliest memories of childhood. It was perfect, inexplicable peace, and he was grateful for it, and grateful, too, even for the experience of being ill at ease or occasionally distraught. It all seemed so clear in these moments where his finite self existed side by side with the infinite Self of all beings everywhere. The trees and the animals and the people came together as one, and they loved him as he loved them, dissolving perfectly into the essential unity at their core.