To sit perfectly still with a back as straight as an arrow, on a temple on a mountain. To focus my breathing from my stomach to my chest, to let ideas float over my head like puffy clouds. To gaze at distant snow capped mountains and feel a soft slight mountain breeze and be reminded of green hills and soft earthy grass. To walk through forests and pass the tangled brown branches of millennia old oak trees with rough dark brown bark. Feeling mesh leaves and soft moist dirt underneath my bear feet. Listening to chirps and crickets and close my eyes to picture Nirvana. Running my hand through the cold snow mountain melt water running down from peaks, disrupting my image, a symbol of my ego. Lily pads floating in the crystal clear water to where I can see the grey rounded stones at its bottom. To feel my toes sink into the loose yellow sand. To return to the temple and climb the stairs, once I get too old to climb them, I will stay in the temple for the rest of my life. To say a quiet pray and eat my last meal of the day, radish, beans, peas and carrots cooked in a cast iron pot. To admire the temples beauty of red walls and golden trim of black tiled roofed buildings. To be at peace with myself, to be at peace with the world.