A tension stirred within him. He stretched and opened his eyes. Where am I? He found himself in a garden among dried flowers, but none of them moved. Desperate for connection, he ran from plant to plant, trying to stir up a friend—a reflection of his existence. Loneliness welled up inside him. Suddenly, he heard a sound from the neighbor's yard. Kneeling beneath a rosebush, he peered into the walkway. There, he saw something that seemed more like him: movement, sound, life. "Maybe this will help me understand what animates me," he thought. Like the Mystic, perhaps we are all seeking to understand what truly animates us—the quiet pulse that calls us toward belonging, wonder, and ourselves.