arrived in nepal (you can end up anywhere)

travel diary; thoughts on personal future

Foggy morning at the teacher training. The first class of our second day starts in an hour (7 am). It’s monsoon season in Nepal; the rain is cold and the humidity doesn’t make dry moments in the day as hot as I expected. The resort is in the hills outside of Kathmandu, a set of brick buildings painted creamsicle orange at the end of a sloped road. Behind us is the jungle, which grows loud enough not to hear our teachers at times: car alarm cicadas and hoots and chirpings. Our meditation teacher called it divine life, had us chant together then close our eyes and, buzzing with mantra, listen.

I’ve been thinking about the nature of personal future. Something feels kind of baffling about finding myself on this trip and on the top floor of the silo shaped building (our yoga room with prayer flags from the ceiling) I looked out at hazy, huge, and pink Kathmandu and felt almost confused. I would’ve never expected to be here except that on a rainy day in February I had the idea to do something like it. Then I found this place, started saying I was going, followed a few, non-difficult steps to make arrangements…

I think what feels odd is the proof of possibility—and responsibility. Outside of things we can’t control, our futures will pan out the way we set them up to. And the things you set up can be anything, you can find yourself anywhere—on a whim.

I suppose the question is whether there is value in leaning into those whims. (I don’t know exactly what I’ll do with this yoga teacher certification, and I spent money on it, and I’m keeping from work for the next near month). Personally, I’ve decided to operate on the theory that when I can follow through on my most exciting whims, I’ll find myself somewhere extraordinary. At the least I found myself here, somewhere I’d never thought I’d be. And I’m having an incredibly moving time.

Hope you’re well.

Yours,

Z