The Man Who Collected Sunsets

There was once a man named Ravi who became famous for collecting sunsets. Whenever he heard of a beautiful sunset, he traveled there.

He watched sunsets beside oceans, mountains, deserts, and lakes. His house filled with paintings, sketches, and journals describing thousands of evenings.

Visitors would ask, "Which sunset was the best?"

Ravi never answered directly.

"I'm still looking," he would say.

One evening, after many years, a storm interrupted a journey. Unable to travel, he spent the night in his own village for the first time in months.

With nothing else to do, he sat on an old wooden bench near the well where he had played as a child.

The clouds slowly opened. The sky turned gold, then copper, then a shade of purple he couldn't quite name.

A baker closed her shop. Children chased each other across the square. Someone laughed from an upstairs window.

The sunset lasted only a few minutes.

When it ended, Ravi remained on the bench.

An elderly neighbor walking home stopped and smiled.

"Beautiful one today," she said.

"Does it happen often?" Ravi asked.

She looked puzzled. "Every evening."

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then Ravi began to laugh.

Not because anything was funny. Just because he suddenly imagined all the miles he had traveled while this sunset had been patiently arriving on schedule, waiting for him to notice.

The next morning, visitors again asked which sunset was the best.

Ravi looked toward the village well.

"I seem to have misplaced the answer," he said.

And for the first time, he appeared perfectly comfortable not finding it.

Self-Reflection

How does my search for the best, shape my ability to experience what is already here?