Not All Visitors Leave Footprints

The old monk sat beneath the sprawling banyan tree, his gaze far beyond the horizon. Around him, villagers settled in, their curiosity alive.

"When you think of beings from other worlds," the monk began, "you imagine eyes like ours, skin like ours, a shape you could point to and say — there it is. But my friends, life does not obey our imagination. On Earth itself, every living thing shares a thread of DNA… yet, on other worlds, life may weave its story with a thread completely different from ours."

He picked up a seed from the ground, turning it slowly between his fingers."If an alien’s very body is built from patterns we do not share, then its form, its senses, even its way of being could be beyond what we can picture. A creature of light. A pattern in the magnetic field. A song that travels through space without a body to sing it."

The villagers listened, eyes widening at the possibilities.

The monk’s voice softened."And now, think of this… when our time on this Earth ends, what if the soul is not extinguished, but transformed? What if, freed from our Earthly body, it too takes on a form unlike any we have known — a form that does not need our DNA, but still carries the essence of who we are?"

He looked at them intently."If such a soul can change its pattern, it may walk unseen beside us, just as an alien might. It may not stand before you as you remember it, but it could shape your life in ways you never realize — opening a door at the right moment, placing an idea in your mind, guiding you toward a meeting that changes everything. These are not random events; they may be blessings left like footprints in the sand, soon washed away, but changing your path forever."

A boy asked quietly, "Guruji… if they are here, why do they hide?"

The monk smiled."Because sometimes, to give you the gift of discovery, they must let you believe you found the way yourself. Whether it is a being from the stars or the soul of one you loved, the highest blessing is not in carrying you… it is in guiding you so you can walk your own road."

The banyan leaves swayed gently, as if agreeing, and the villagers walked away with a new thought blooming in their minds:Perhaps life — whether alien, earthly, or beyond death — is not about the form we see, but about the presence we feel, and the silent opportunities it leaves in our path.

#ReluctantMonk #Imagination