There's a movie I love from a few decades back, in which a main character is an open-plains lonesome cowboy, at home sleeping under the open sky. When asked why he never settled down and raised a family, he described a moment in which he saw the most beautiful woman in the distance, hanging the wash on the line in front of the morning sun, her hair flowing in the light breeze and her white cotton dress showing off the form that God had given her. In his own words, "it wasn't going to get any better than that", he locked in my mind the image of a man at peace with his world. He is the Mystic Wanderer.