04 – Baxter and the Art of Stillness

Baxter, the Basset Hound – The Art of Tranquility

While Seraphina, Liora, and Valeria were leaving their first joint marks on the canvas in Borgo Feliciana—still unsure whether it was a game, an experiment, or the beginning of something greater—

Baxter, the Basset Hound, lay in the shade of a painted tree—not just any tree, but a deep red, slightly bent one that leaned over the river as if lost in thought. Here, in the painted forest, a place defying logic, Baxter had found his permanent spot.

The painted forest was no ordinary forest. Its trees didn’t grow straight into the sky but swung in bold arcs as if following melodies no one could hear. The leaves glowed in patterns defying predictability—sometimes red, sometimes golden, sometimes full of spots or swirls. Nothing was random, but neither was anything predictable. For many, it was a wonder.

For Baxter, it was… well, given.

He wasn’t a dog easily swayed by wild colors or loud ideas. While other animals in the painted forest flung brushes around or drew new patterns in the air, he preferred to stay at his favorite spot: under the shady, deep-red tree by the river.

“Baxter, you old bore!” Jasper often called out when he hopped by. “Have you tried anything new today?”

Baxter blinked lazily and shook his head. “Why should I? Things are as they are. A good nap is an art too.”

His long ears twitched slightly as a warm breeze swept over the river. The light danced on the waves, and in the water, all the crazy patterns of the forest were reflected—dots, stripes, spirals. Baxter let his gaze wander over them.

He understood why the others were so obsessed with change. But change didn’t always mean improvement. Sometimes, what already existed was just right.

He yawned heartily and rolled a bit further into the soft moss. The world was loud enough. Not everyone needed to constantly add something.

And so, Baxter lay there, content with what was, and with a deep understanding of the art of tranquility.

Baxter teaches us that creative power doesn’t always come with noise or speed.
Sometimes, it’s about trusting the moment – deeply, quietly.
Like in Japanese ink painting, where the breath guides the brush:
Inhale – gather the ink. Exhale – paint the circle.
When we follow that natural rhythm, depth emerges – effortlessly.

What if you simply allowed your creativity to arrive on its own today?

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