Mister Tao, grant me the Good Will, my duties being nothing but to wander over the Ecuadorian hills. A recession from civil life, urbane life, is what I am pondering, and naturally, the question is what will I be squandering. Perhaps some dark chocolate and a nickel, and if this be the lost, my reasons best not be fickle. Yet my reason is my duty, to be a hermit, so the life I lead unduly ought to change so that nature and I may harmonize truly. This is hermitage from hermeneutics, homelessness by Zhuangzi. This is me leaving for one of the five sacred Taoist mountains, and without knowing any Chinese, finding my way to the hermit’s wisdom-spouting fountain. This sole duty of mine I must fulfill, lest, the Tao forbid, society traps me and takes my Good Will.
A sorely deliberate pace is all I can muster, reader, but the next musing of Tao Practiced will be smoothed to a luster.