In times of struggle and suffering the philosopher sits on a rock and contemplates the state of existence. The chaos ensues but he remains unfazed as he understand this too shall pass; all the people run amok, trying to get their bearings and yet fail to see what the philosopher understands like a child does his favorite snack or toy. The clouds turn black and the gods become angry with the people's negligence and disrespect. There will be no harvest this season nor will there be rain. There will only be dark skies and short and cold days ahead. All the plants will die and the animals will go into hiding until better days show themselves. The philosopher understands this as the flow of life where everyone else sees death and disintegration. The philosopher gets up from his rock and walks over to a tree, and lays a cold hand on the trunk and feels the ever beating heart of nature as she tells him that this isn't the end but the beginning of another year. The leaves and seasons of old are now dead and gone and none can bring them back. The demons that run amok, destroying her and yet enjoying their time in her sun are finally getting what they deserve. The philosopher nods in understanding and goes back to sit on his rock, witnessing the state of existence shift and change as the paradigm of the world begins to embrace consciousness.