Once upon a time in a very distant land, there was a monk. As he was on a long sojourn, he happened across another monk from the same great order to which he belonged. On this journey, the first monk had thought to himself before he left, “What if I meet someone else of my order on my trip? What would I say to him? What great wisdom could I impart to him — or him to me?” And he pondered these things as he walked.

Now it so happened that the young monk he encountered was new to the order. He was just beginning the great odyssey that would become his chosen path in that lifetime. He was not yet wise to the ways of the world, but he had a burning passion for all things sacred. Although he did not know where this new path would lead, he did know that he had been called by his inner self for some great purpose. He knew not what yet, but he just knew. Passion, like a fever, burned within his heart and soul like a flame that refused to go out.

So there he was, a neophyte on the path when our traveling monk just happened to go by the little town down the street from the monastery.