in the tranquil heart of the monastery, where silence cloaks the soul, one learns to close ears to the clamor of the outer world, seeking instead the harmony within. before one enters this serene preadmission to inner peace, they are like barbers, skilled in stripping away the unnecessary, trimming the thoughts as one would hair, leaving only what is essential. the notes of their experience, a melody of learning and redoing, guide their hands. just as a barber may be masked, cloaked in anonymity, so too are our true selves, awaiting revelation through quiet reflection.