Whew, my backpack feels heavy - heavier than ever it has been. Just overnight, a few more kilos were added to the burden that I need to keep firm on my back while keeping my feet firm on the earth. As the serious/challenging nature of this trek becomes more evident, I'd keep adding things to my backpack, which in this present state of inexperience and anxiety, is the only thing I could do, since there is no time for a dress rehearsal. "The Thamel List" - stuff that I need to get soon as I get to Nepal - is already a page long, which means one more page to cram into the tiny backpack before I vanish (for a coupla weeks).
In the brief days of planning that a mismanaged and directionless soul like me could do, convictions have changed fast. My poetic take on doing this trek - in a region, and a nation that I've never even been to before - has been modified by the narrations of reality by 'friendly advice' of experts and elders. Polite people have been politely concerned about this whole upcoming ordeal, which is clearly evident in all recent conversations that have descended into survival talk.
I, however, live by the conviction that I have to, can, and will do this - for love, if not for adventure, if not for misadventure, if not for nature, if not for survival, if not for a reality check (or rather a slap), if not for the novelty, if not for the escape, if not for the compensation (to an average, dull life in the urban centers, and to years of misdirected institutionalization), if not for an identity, if not for the ego, if not for the isolation, if not for the companionship, if not for finding myself in losing myself, if not to experience a state of no-mind, if not for the death, if not for a good piece. So it goes.
If anything conveys that this trek - the whole episode - is about moi, then let me assure that I am the least significant part of it - more like the insect on the wall that sits and observes. There's already history-in-the-making regardless of my inclusion into any equation (unless I have already affected the equation in subtle ways - how and when is for explanation later). Wait for the bigger players to take over the thought-space.
I'll be missing the tactile feel of keyboards for a while. My cab is waiting. Goodbye.
In the brief days of planning that a mismanaged and directionless soul like me could do, convictions have changed fast. My poetic take on doing this trek - in a region, and a nation that I've never even been to before - has been modified by the narrations of reality by 'friendly advice' of experts and elders. Polite people have been politely concerned about this whole upcoming ordeal, which is clearly evident in all recent conversations that have descended into survival talk.
I, however, live by the conviction that I have to, can, and will do this - for love, if not for adventure, if not for misadventure, if not for nature, if not for survival, if not for a reality check (or rather a slap), if not for the novelty, if not for the escape, if not for the compensation (to an average, dull life in the urban centers, and to years of misdirected institutionalization), if not for an identity, if not for the ego, if not for the isolation, if not for the companionship, if not for finding myself in losing myself, if not to experience a state of no-mind, if not for the death, if not for a good piece. So it goes.
If anything conveys that this trek - the whole episode - is about moi, then let me assure that I am the least significant part of it - more like the insect on the wall that sits and observes. There's already history-in-the-making regardless of my inclusion into any equation (unless I have already affected the equation in subtle ways - how and when is for explanation later). Wait for the bigger players to take over the thought-space.
I'll be missing the tactile feel of keyboards for a while. My cab is waiting. Goodbye.
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