The Himalayas are a fascinating mix - of high mountains, crisp, clear air, thundery storms, elevating expanses, huddled villages, tiny temples, egoistic priests, spiritual seekers, frauds, charlatans, enlightened spirits, kindhearted souls.
But what I love most about the mountains are the silent spaces that abound and that enter one's mind, hesitantly in the beginning and then with more assurance until something from inside unconsciously lets go. I find myself spending a lot of time, just sitting, looking at the snow topped ranges, revelling in the peace and beauty of these powerful mountains.
I find it most relaxing when I am just sitting in a place of natural beauty, not climbing a challenging slope or scaling a peak or trying in particular to achieve anything. Not even consciously meditating. Just being in one place and listening - to the occasional sounds (a bird call, a rush of wind, a gushing stream) but most of all listening to the compelling yet soundless call of the spirit of the mountains.
Gradually, without conscious effort, things begin to sort themselves out. The future no longer holds horrendous obstacles, the present seems simple and effortless. Questions about what to do next (or what not to do) are resolved in unexpected ways and solutions offer themselves to questions I didn't even know I was asking. With such visible strength and beauty, it is easy to surrender to the mountains (and no surprise that there are so many temples built here), to trust them to lead me to places of safety and wonder that exist both within and around me.
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