The Surprising Secret of Contentment

That’s me eight or so years ago. Kicked back in a small boat, gliding over glassy waters that reflected the severe beauty of the mountains around me. I drank in the unmatched blue of the sky and inhaled the untainted freshness of the air. No destination. No agenda. Just a drawn out moment of savoring and beholding. It’s the perfect picture of contentment, is it not?

An old man, stiff with scars from whippings and stonings, sat on a tattered mat in an unadorned room. Scabs oozed from beneath ...