Saintly Man?

A long-bearded ascetic sits cross-legged on top of a tall wooden pole in an empty, sunlit landscape, perfectly still as the days roll by, a blizzard coats him in snow and night falls around him. As time passes a second pole appears beside his, and a younger long-haired seeker clambers awkwardly up onto it, folds himself into the lotus position and beams across at his venerable neighbour, politely asking whether he minds the company. The old man swivels round and unleashes a torrent of furious swearing. The startled newcomer flails, loses his balance and tumbles off his perch, leaving the saintly man alone again, once more the picture of tranquil contemplation.