My life is made up of seemingly whimsical choices, which through their inspired spontaneity seem to weave certain logical patterns that lead me straight to the right place at the right time. Super good moments in time that make me smile enigmatically and say, "Oh yes, this is where I want to be. This is what I'd rather be doing."
I continue to use this mysterious formula of life, plunging head on to one adventure after another that pop in my way. Once the wheels have been set into motion, there really is no turning back, and I could only kick back, wave my hands up in the air, and gleefully giggle in delight. It is not the result which determines whether I had a great time or not. I plan to have a great time regardless of the result.
Someone once said, "Life is meaningless. It is us who give meaning to life." Life events are fundamentally neutral; it is our interpretations that give it meaning.
Joseph Campbell's excellent translation of an ancient Hindu saying rings true for me time after time after time: "Follow your Bliss and the Universe will open doors for you where there were only walls."
So, what made me go climb the Himalayas? Originally, I had no intentions to do any hard climbing or hiking. I also had no plans to be out in the cold and to go on weeks without a shower. Most of the members of my hiking team were middle aged men, and seeing the Everest up close and personal were in their bucket lists.
I decided to visit Nepal because it was near India. I decided to go to India because when I was in Australia for 3 months earlier this year, the people there, the posters everywhere, and the movies I watched all shouted INDIA. Why was I in Australia for 3 months, some might ask. Originally, I had no means to stay in one of the most expensive countries on earth for 3 months, but through sheer intuitive inspiration, I stumbled upon 2 websites which offered some sort of free lodging. One was a free home stay experience, and the other was a volunteer farming program. I meshed both of them in my itinerary together with some island explorations and National Park treks and hikes, but I digress.
So how did I end up doing an Everest - Himalayan Hike? I didn't know much about it but I knew I wanted to experience the best of Nepal. When I started my research for India, an Indian guy I met on a travel forum had only high praises for a veteran Himalayan hiker who leads various mountain expeditions. His website said the trip I wanted to join was already fully booked. I tried anyway and emailed him directly. The Everest trek looked absolutely daunting but I told myself that if he could squeeze me in somehow then it was the Universe's way of saying I have to go.
What I realized was I could survive these very rough days and still manage to look quite human :). I got along very well with everyone in the group. Everybody marveled at my incredible appetite and lovingly shared with me their goodies. I had many memorable encounters and conversations, and at one point even channeled the son of a Sherpa lady owner and gave her a hug and messages from the beyond.
This sojourn cemented the fact that the best things in life are indeed free. And free stuff, I did get. Free chocolates, free accessories, free baby wipes, free Ringpoche blessings & masala from the monks, free mandarin orange from a seller I didn't buy from .... It's interesting how the double meaning of FREE applies to me really well. A member of my group couldn't believe that life just blesses me with free stuff and abundance at every turn. He announced that I was an undercover ninja yakuza out to plunder my unwitting fellow hikers. Har har har!
Coming back to Kathmandu after the hike, I was wandering around Boudhanath stupa one afternoon and heard some chanting. I joined in and sat in serene meditation. When I opened my eyes, a nice lady handed me a heavy bag filled with snacks, fruit and drink. I swear the Universe never lets me go hungry!
During the Everest trek, there were unforgettable glimpses of the full moon faces peeking out of gigantic mountains. Countless peaks with enigmatic names, too many to remember. I was thrilled to find out that Mount Everest's original local name is Chomolungma, which meant Mother Goddess of the Universe. It was hard to believe that I was walking, climbing up and staying on for about two weeks on places that were higher in altitude than the top of Mount Fuji.
Porters with concrete blocks, plywoods, and heavy bags balanced on their heads with string cloths pass by, and I wondered why with just a small backpack, I had to give my all physically to continue up to Kala Pattar's 5,545 meters (18, 192 feet). The yaks stampede on with their burdens, capable of thrusting anyone out of their way with their big horns. Dust and dung whirl in the air, coating my over-exhausted larynx as I catch my breath sharply ascent after ascent at extremely high altitude.
The mountains loomed large, foreboding and ominous, protective and unmoving. The sky draped itself with every wondrous shade of vibrant blue. The moonrise for three nights popping out of its hiding place behind Everest and Nuptse outside my room window were just splendid surprise presents from the heavens. Black ravens floatingly circled the air. Mountain goats made their rare appearances as foolish, dreamy me look behind them hoping for glimpses of snow leopards or yetis. The mountain monastery Thyangboche enchanted our souls with their serenely guttural chanting, opening lotus flowers in our souls and minds, giving me the one long, continuous sleep during the 2-week hiking period. Children with perennially dirty cheeks looked at me squarely, sometimes suddenly cracking into exuberant smiles. I stare at exotic Himalayan women as they stare back at me asking if I was Bhutanese, Tibetan, or Chinese. Exchanging Namastes with fellow hikers along the way. Countless white stupas with Buddha Eyes dot the numerous trails along the way. Humongous, sacred Mani walls loom big in the horizon charged with super currents to give the body its much needed energy to go on. The kindly porters who even though with their back-breaking loads were always day to offer a hand during dangerous icy crossings and slippery, pebbly descents. The monks and porters thought I had a man's name when I introduced myself as Jackie. They are only familiar with Jackie Chan, and Jackie Kennedy is an unknown to them. And there I was in my childhood, wondering why Jackie Chan had a woman's name. It's all perspective, isn't it?
Yesterday, while at Pashupatinath, I saw dead bodies wrapped in orange cloths ready for their cremation rites by the river. A nice, local freelance guide started explaining what was going on to me, and later, I rode on his motorbike as it zipped dangerously along the crazy freeway to the ancient city of Bhaktapur. I had no defenses, no helmets, no armors. Just an intuitive trust that all is well, and I am riding on the edge of adventure of life.
Today, I am writing this sitting in a lovely monastery garden filled with fluttering, chirping birds.. small, jumping squirrels.. and slants of warm winter sunshine. Tomorrow early morning, I'll take my flight to India, and begin yet another adventure. A few weeks ago, a friend commented that my plans seem a bit crazy. I said to him that while that is true, I find that oftentimes, it is when I live on the edge of adventure that I feel the most alive. And to feel alive, to feel the blood flow through one's veins, to face the sunshine with an incredible sigh of happiness in one's heart, well, I guess this is the life I had intended to live when I made the decision to come.
When I was in Mongolia in July, I took the distance and went far off in the heart of mystical Khuvsgul Lake. There I met a shaman from the Tsaatan reindeer tribe. This nomadic, shamanic tribe live with reindeers high up in the mountains. They use reindeer milk, reindeer meat, reindeer hide, and also reindeer transport. This particular young shaman had decided to bring some reindeers down to lower altitude and set up his yurt near the tourist area to make money. He looked at me with yellowish eyes as he puffed out circles of tobacco smoke in the air. Speaking in local dialect to the man who volunteered to be my interpreter, he said, "She will amass more spiritual power and energy when she reaches a high mountain place with lots of snow on top." I looked at him quite contemptuously then, this corrupt shaman who obviously says a lot of crap to tourists. But then, four months later, here I am in Himalayan country, and loads of high mountains with snow on top. Life boggles me no end, and I sit in anticipation to be mystified and swept by it all. Spiritual energy or not, I shall tuck one more incredible experience under my soul, and let it add to the person I have become and becoming still.