Whenever I see a warm, bright scarf, I wait for what’s coming along. Students generally go into the chapel for meditation: some have done meditation before, others are constantly looking around, afraid they might do something wrong. There are some that wear colorful, warm scarves. Every time I see them, I wonder how those scarves don’t fall off but stay so comfortably wrapped in soft folds around their necks. They are what nowadays would be called hippies. Their hairstyles (if they can be called styles) vary from kind of long to very long, and every hair is obviously free to follow its own course in life. A loose shirt falls upon a skinny chest and stomach. These people don’t exercise much, but they don’t eat much either, so their skin is tightly pulled over untrained muscles. The colors of their clothes rarely match, and their shoes are usually funny. When they sit on a pillow, begin listening to their breathing, and soar off this surface of reality, they see it all fit. When they put an end to their meditation, they walk out of the chapel clean and floating. They look as we, normal people, do when we have gone through an inhuman training session and have just taken a fresh shower. It must all be in the scarf they’re wearing.
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