Zen and Sri Go for a Walk

They walk in silence for a while.

The path is cracked. A little overgrown.

Somewhere between memory and imagination.

Sri: You really think everything happens for a reason?

Zen: I don’t think. I see that it does.

Sri: Even the mess? The mistakes? The losses?

Zen: Especially those. You call them mistakes. I call them invitations.

Sri: That’s poetic. But real life hurts.You ever try paying rent with detachment?

Zen: (smiling) And yet, somehow, here you are. Every month paid. Every breath delivered.

Sri: I still don’t know if I’m doing this right.The world says run. You say stop. The world says build. You say dissolve.

Zen: I never said don’t build. Just don’t cling.

Sri: Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the meeting, or making the pitch.

Zen: And yet I’m the only one who’s ever truly there. The rest is a role you play. A good one. But still a role.

Sri: So what—you want me to do nothing?

Zen: No. Act fully. Just don’t claim ownership.

Sri: I’m not the doer?

Zen: You never were.

Sri: Then why do I feel like I’m carrying so much?

Zen: Because you keep picking it up. Let it fall.

Sri: But if I stop striving, will I become irrelevant?

Zen: No. You’ll become real.

(They keep walking. A breeze moves through the trees.)

Sri: Do you think this path leads somewhere?

Zen: Only inward. That’s the only direction that ever mattered.

Sri: You know, one of us won’t be here forever.

Zen: You’re right. Only one of us will remain.