Silent Master

Following a nameless stream deep into the jagged hills, you finally find the Master at the end of a bending valley. He is sitting on a large, slanting rock that covers a tiny wellspring, unperturbed by his uncomfortable-looking seat. He is smiling at a flock of geese as they fly past, smiling at the story the chattering stream tells him, smiling at the clouds bearing in refreshing rain, smiling at you as you decide to be his guest. He is at home, and he has been expecting you as much as he has been expecting the wind, the clouds, or the curious little duck that stops in a pool of the stream to watch the proceedings.