Hello divine beings,

Today’s greeting may seem like I’m off the deep end, watch while I dive in, but no, not yet anyway. As I type this, I’m in the Himalayas, in Northern India, about two hours away from Dehradun.  We drove up one of the windiest roads I’ve ever driven on, in the dark, with the evidence of this season’s landslides taking up part of the road.  The driver bobbed and weaved through Indian traffic, which includes cows, naturally, and abrupt braking in order to avoid other swerving motorists.  Well, your girl got sick, but eventually made it to the eco lodge in the mountains.

The purpose of this trip is to hike up the Gangotri, and take in the sights and sounds on a pilgrimage route. All I can say is that this place is perfect.

Perfect? you ask. Well, ok, at hotel for this leg of the trip, the lights flicker on and off throughout the day and evening, the shower is really just a bucket next to a tap (but it has hot water), and pretty soon we are going to an “indoor camping” type hotel right before we get actually on the mountain and camp there, at 10,000 feet.  Maybe it’s not “perfect.”

But what does perfect even mean?  For years, and even now, I can’t help but think that there’s a place to get to.  I mean, who likes a journey without a destination?!?  I want to get there, and stay there, and be happy, dammit.

And even here, in India, we have a destination in mind:  Tapovan.   If I can be in shape enough, and mentally tough enough, and beat down any altitude sickness I get, that’s where I’m going.  Do you hear me?  I’m basically here with a bunch of yogis, we meditate daily, and I am so worried about getting to the top and making sure this trip is perfect.

Like everything, we have to find the nuance.  A goal is fantastic.  The perfection seeking, not so much.  Can anyone please tell me where the line is?  Because I lose it regularly.

Maybe that’s my lesson.  Send you pics from the top of Tapovan!

Always, 

XIMXIA

THANKS FOR READING!