Thame, 3,800 m
The atmosphere is tense, with Gladys refusing to accept the reality of her body and physiology at her age, all while accusing Jeannette of ageism. She’s very self-centered; her suffering surfaces as anger and mistrust.
As for the rest, the space is there—that’s all there is. In fact, I find it hard to understand how the ego can still seek to define its boundaries. Perhaps I’d like a little more calm, a little less conversation, more solitude, and time for contemplation.
Ever since we left Namche, everything has become rawer, more real, and more authentic. There are few hikers, more elderly people carrying enormous loads, and women in traditional costumes that are often very dirty. I love those long skirts covered in striped fabric, all held together by a thick belt with an ornate buckle. Their faces are almost black, weathered by the sun. Many have few or no teeth, and their smiles are almost childlike.
I found the Valley of Bliss. I remember it as a crossroads—where a trail meets a river dancing over smooth, white rocks. There was wind, colors, the sound of flowing water, and the turning of a prayer wheel. An open space filled with movements that were light, gentle, and lively all at once.
The arrival in Thame was spectacular and stood in stark contrast to the gentle scenery that had come before. Geology at work: black and yellow cliffs, enormous boulders, white torrents, and jagged peaks. Thame is strange, stripped of its tourists and some of its residents since a massive landslide caused by a glacial outflow. The air is white and green, streaked with dry-stone walls. The atmosphere is fresh and clean, yet we’re staying in a very dilapidated old lodge with minimal comforts.
I could walk for hours; my breathing is steady, my energy constant, and my legs carry me effortlessly. A deep sense of confidence fills me. It has no specific object. I no longer truly belong to myself.
I practice a little and a lot. The space is there—non-negotiable. My little notebook stays in my backpack, wrapped in a kata. Today I sensed the lashang; I observed it from afar. I sat in a monastery filled with scents and sounds. The monks were reciting their prayers, and I let myself be swept away by them.