I
Very great or intense/Having or showing great knowledge or insight/The deepest part of something, especially the ocean.
II
“Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself is capable of uttering profound truths.” (Henry Miller)
“It’s not profound it’s what I found.” (There’s a reason to live – Robert Forster)
III
“What you seek – seeks you – Rumi.” She rolls her eyes as she sees the faded words on his T-Shirt. He passes her, chirps a platitude and marches on. Maybe the T-shirt came with a list of phrases to say to unfit women who he deems worthy of his guiding: “101 profound motivators”. Or maybe, he just bought it at an op-shop and didn’t read it. Probably doesn’t even know who Rumi is.
She watches as he dumps his pack on a flat rock one hundred metres ahead. His lean body stretches, silhouetted against a powder-blue sky. Finally, exhausted she arrives and flops on the rock beside him, her pack thrown to the thick grass at her side.
“Amazing.” His voice is light and clear, and she isn’t sure if he is talking to her or about her.
“What?”
“This place.”
She shields her eyes and looks out. Yeah, mountains, river, sky, that is the bush. That is the object of a bushwalk. Her phone beeps from the inside of her short pockets. They must be in range of a tower. She flicks it on, holds it aloft to get the best selfie angle, sans the Rumi guru, and posts. No one needs to know she needed a guide. She was a strong, independent woman, or so her profile said. She was done with partners, didn’t need one. No more Valentine’s day, today was a “I am woman” day.
“Look how far it goes.” He points at the layers of blue, red, and green stretched across the earth’s crust and she squints. “Imagine walking out there, feeling that under your feet? Do you reckon anyone has ever walked on every bit of that?” She’s not sure if she should answer or if the Rumi-zen had somehow absorbed from the cotton of his tight t-shirt to his larynx. She hadn’t ever really thought about it. Did it matter? Her stomach grumbles loudly and he looks down. “Oh sorry, not doing my job too good am I? I’ll get lunch.” He turns away shuffling in a backpack, assembling the items her voucher told her were a “gourmet experience in an unforgettable location.” She stares out into the blue. Soft cloud whisps across the horizon as a bird circles towards them, then comes in closer and closer.
“What type of bird is that?” she asks
“Sparrow hawk,” he answers without turning. “Must have spotted some lunch.” The bird suddenly angles in and dives. She shrieks as she feels a gust of air dart past her leg. “Don’t move,” he says quietly.
“What?” she is shaking.
“Not sure if the hawk got it.” His voice is steady and strong as he steps towards her.
“Got what?’
“Snake,” he replies, holding a small brown length in the air in front of her. “You’re one lucky lady. Hawk took him out.”
“Jesus. I could have died!”
“Yeah – your lucky day. They never go for snakes – can’t lift the weight. Snake must have been after the same mouse as the hawk and you just got in the way. Seems everything’s doing the same thing.”
“What; trying to kill me?”
He chuckles. “Hardly. They probably didn’t even notice you. Just looking for a nice place for lunch.”
Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash
