28/05/2023
THE HIGHS, THE LOWS, THE LIVING IN BETWEEN - MY DAY IN KATHMANDU
I’m sitting in a dimly lit, crude cut hotel room in Kathmandu. I’ve spent the last hour listening to Radiohead’s ‘A Moon Shaped Pool’, trying to register and make sense of the broad spectrum of emotion I’m feeling after today’s adventure in Nepal. Reflecting on the last 12 hours of my life, I can say with profound conviction, I have truly lived. I am beyond tired but I just need to get this out; the firing of synapses, connecting my thoughts to the white/grey matter that constitutes my brain, all in order to send signals to my hands that tap away feverishly on the screen of my tablet has become a need rather than a desire. I NEED to tell this tale, even if I’m the only one who ever reads it.
This morning I woke up early. Although set, there proved no need for an alarm clock. My bones itched to get going. I was packed, I was ready. This morning, I saw Mount Everest (‘Sagarmatha’ if you’re Nepalese, ‘Chomolungma’ if you’re Tibetan). Call her what you will, set against a canvas of unrelenting blue sky, she was simply stunning! No photo nor video could ever do justice to what the eyes can see in real time. Accompanied by 4 new friends there was a sense of solidarity to what we were doing. I’ve always held a strong appreciation for the way that big, natural landscapes have an inherent ability to make a person feel small - beautifully, splendidly small. I love that about mountains; to be able to see the biggest one of them all was a powerfully emotional experience. The bonus feature of the endeavour - having not one, but two visits to the cockpit to see the world through the eyes of our Captain. I couldn’t help but wonder… Does that grand view fade into obscurity, flight by flight? Does it become their version of a partitioned ‘office wall’, gradually losing its ability to inspire and motivate? My pondering was promptly replaced by a different type of wonder - one centred on the view that occupied the opposite side of our stretched acrylic window, the barrier that protected our fragile selves from the outside elements.
Returning promptly to my allocated seat, I resumed my childlike reverie, throwing my gaze through the window to the view out there. Put simply, wow! Money well spent and a memory I won’t soon forget. Up there in the big blue, peering out a window the size and shape of the toilet seat, life just becomes simple in the jagged ridges of Everest and her friends. The slow, droning hum of the engines as they kept us airborne provided a simple rhythm that became both hypnotic and meditative. As we descended back down to earth, I couldn’t help but feel I left a part of me up there in the welcoming arms of that mountain both admired and revered; synonymous with both extremes of nature – something unforgiving and harshly physical, matched with something so profoundly and breathtakingly beautiful.
The tone was set to soar for the day, or so it seemed. Our commute to a nearby monkey sanctuary made for a tense - but riveting - game of cat mouse. Riddled with near misses, the scene was punctuated by a soundtrack of hissing brakes and tired, overworked fan belts. A small climb to the crest of the sanctuary proved worth the strain. The town laid out below, a sprawling mass of sparse suburbia, houses perched atop one another. Looking down on the world it was easy to get lost in the light and colour. The mood of the day could only be tempered by an experience that stirred something deep inside. I’d experienced the highest of highs in seeing Everest earlier on so it would only seem fair that the day be levelled out somewhat by a solemn and unexpected twist.
This afternoon, we visited the other end of the human emotion spectrum in the form of human beings being open air cremated on the steps - or ghat - of a river that cut through the grounds of a nearby Hindu temple. The scene of a body being wrapped in sheets of orange and white, carried gently to the waters edge by a congregation of family left behind is now etched into my consciousness. Truly, I was moved. We arrived to the smouldering ashes of earlier cremations clouding the air, the smoke swirling around, caressed gently on its way courtesy of a cool afternoon breeze. I arrived as a tourist, aware of what was going to transpire once we entered the temple grounds. However, I was not aware of how the experience would make me feel; I left the grounds feeling a deep sense of thoughtful reflection on the finality of death and a much fonder consideration for the many ways in which different cultures address the practicalities of death. Watching the ceremony, albeit from afar and with no knowledge of the deceased or their family, I couldn’t help but be reminded that I am a human being first and - in this context at least - a tourist second. I won’t say that I felt sadness although the scene was certainly not one of joy; I simply felt the swell of earlier excitement evened out by a confronting sense of mortality. We all face it, we will all meet it. I felt a respect for the seemingly simple manner that this culture stands and watches on as the physical remains of their loved one burns openly in front of their eyes, what’s left over returning almost instantly to the earthly elements from whence they came. Our western culture tends to be a tad squeamish when it comes to matters relating to death, settling for curtains being drawn over a casket that is swiftly carried away to a nearby furnace or burial plot. The openness of this ceremony was both confronting and comforting - two strange bedfellows who, for mine, made it work.
Today was everything; the highs of life’s brightest and best moments, contrasted with a respectful appreciation for the fragility of the human condition and the absolute knowledge and acceptance that one day, this all ends. The ambivalence and even-handed experience of living today has left me with a greater appreciation that I am here, in the now, doing something I have never done before…and that has me feeling well and truly ‘alive’. I appreciate the land of the living. I appreciate that it is a world that includes me…and I’m rather thankful that today reinforced that message.
Today I found the first piece of the puzzle in what I came here looking for. I told you I was after something unexpected and different. Something that would challenge me and force me to revisit my outlook. From the snow and ice of the worlds tallest and most unforgiving mountain to the fire and ash of a customary Hindu cremation, I found the thing right in between birth and death...I found life.
Nath - Clouds of Lythiium
🚶🏻♂️🎒🌲🏔🏕🗺📸🤙🏼🔥❄️
“Make Living Fun”
