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He chose his mountain perch for its commanding view and its swirling eddies of swift wind. Beams of golden sunlight shift through roiling gray clouds. The folds of his plain robe sway and occasionally whip around his ankles. Various pouches lie in rows near to hand.

A deep-sided charcoal brazier rests on the ground at his right side. The rows of supplies sit to his left. His eyes watch the play of morning light battling what may soon be storm clouds. A faint trace of a smile plays over his lips as he gracefully lowers himself into a comfortable kneeling position. The wind gusts up over the ridge and swirls around him.

His eyes close for a moment as he savors the caress of the moisture laden air over his face. His hair lifts and drops around his neck and ears. The brief meditation completed, the man's hands lift from his lap and hover over the brazier. A flash of light and the charcoal ignites. The smoke coils up and is grabbed by the moving air. The wind shifts, now spinning in place on the other side of the blazing charcoal.

He smiles again and then shifts so that he faces the swirl of smoke. The charcoal quickly heats and the smoke fades. Before the last trace dissipates, the kneeling man begins to whistle a haunting melody. His hand reaches behind him and lifts a pouch. Still whistling, he removes a pinch of cedar and drops it to the embers. The sweet scent rises and then is taken in the whirling air. ...

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