Where will I begin?
Li Yuan sat cross-legged beneath an old tree whose roots spread calmly into the earth.
Morning sunlight touched the surface of the leaves,
casting gentle, shifting shadows across his face.
The wind carried the scent of soil and dew.
There was no sound but the quiet breath of nature.
"Where will I begin…"
That question echoed within him.
There were too many insights.
Too many feelings.
Too many impressions he had gathered along his journey.
But only one question arose,
and only one answer answered it:
"From the beginning."
And for Li Yuan—
the beginning was not a place.
Not a moment.
But his very first understanding.
Water.
Since childhood, he had seen water.
The river that flowed beside his village.
The silent fall of rain.
His father's tears when his mother died.
The tea poured when his father hadn't yet returned.
The water used to nourish plants each morning.
Water was not just a thing.
Not just a liquid.
But an experience.
And that experience
over time
became understanding.
Within his inner world,
Li Yuan once again felt the flow of water.
But not external water,
rather the stream of his own awareness.
"Water always finds its path. It never forces, yet it flows."
"Am I the same?"
Li Yuan recalled how he had lived.
He never forced his way.
He didn't seek to conquer the world.
He didn't chase strength like others did.
Yet, he kept flowing.
From one understanding to the next.
From one stillness to another.
Unknowingly, he had followed the nature of water itself.
"If enlightenment is light…"
"…then water is the mirror that reflects that light back into me."
Suddenly, his inner world became clear.
Transparent.
Like the surface of a still lake, undisturbed.
And in that clarity,
he saw himself.
Not his body.
Not his face.
But a formless form—
the meaning of his existence.
In that reflection,
he saw a small boy sitting by the riverbank.
The child sat in silence, staring at the water.
But behind the quiet in his eyes,
was a curiosity that had never faded.
That child was him—
from the past.
And as he looked at the child,
the child looked back.
Not with human eyes,
but with awareness.
"You've finally returned."
Li Yuan remained silent.
He knew this wasn't the child's voice.
It was the voice of his own understanding.
"All this time, you've walked so far… you forgot where you began."
"But now, you see it again…"
In that moment, Li Yuan understood.
Enlightenment is not some grand event descending from the heavens.
Not divine power that shatters mountains.
Not a radiant light that splits sky and earth.
Enlightenment is returning.
Returning to the beginning.
Returning to the roots.
Returning to where everything first started.
And in that return,
he did not become weaker—
he became whole.
He touched the ground with his fingertips.
The soil was cold, damp with dew.
Yet he could feel something flowing from it—
a vibration like water.
"Water is in everything…"
"Even within me."
And in that moment, enlightenment arose.
Not as light.
Not as sound.
But as understanding.
He realized—
that all he had understood were not fragments.
Water.
Stillness.
Fear.
Formless motion.
The resonance of the world.
Absence.
All of it…
came from the same place.
And that place was not outside,
but within.
Instantly, his inner world shifted.
The space of understanding within him expanded.
Water flowed through the cracks of his awareness.
Trees of insight grew tall.
His inner sky was clear,
and its light was not blinding—
but warm.
"Now I understand…"
"Enlightenment isn't something we search for outside."
"Enlightenment is something that's been growing all along… we just forgot to see it."
Li Yuan opened his eyes.
Silence.
But from within him,
a single breath rose—deep and complete—
as if he were inhaling not air,
but meaning.
And as he exhaled,
the leaves around him trembled gently.
As though the world, too, was breathing with him.
In that moment,
Li Yuan didn't feel powerful.
Didn't feel special.
But he felt right.
Right with his path.
Right with his understanding.
Right with himself.
And perhaps
that is true enlightenment.
Not because the world acknowledges it.
Not because the heavens bestow it.
Not because enemies can no longer defeat him.
But because,
for the first time in his life
he understood
why he walks.