The journey Out has brought me In

One unexpected aspect of my journey so far is that is has given me time and space to practice a very specific set of lessons. Practicing things I have been working on this past year, related to the mental discipline of my thoughts.

Some days, I would have to climb 1500-2000 feet in 5 miles, only to lose it again in the next 3 miles. I would struggle up a steep section, feel sure I was arriving at the top, and there would be more stairs, or a whole big hump of land left to do. My lazy self would start to despair, and the higher self would step in and say, "Rain, you're in the Himalayas for goodness sake! There is going to be big ups and downs. Remember, you are living your dream, and are able to do this!"

Every day I practiced dealing with the smaller section at hand, instead of the day's big task. This was like a living meditation, to be more in the present moment in a tangible way. I practiced being grateful for the steep sections, because they helped me gain more of the day's elevation that needed climbing. If a complaint went through my mind, I practiced immediately stating 3-4 things I loved about that moment: "My knee is hurting...and the view is incredible, and my stomach is good today, and my balance is good, and my legs are strong."

Not many big people like me make it this far, so my presence often caused a stir in the villages we passed through. The reactions were giggles, smirks, shock, open mouthed stares, or asking "how many kilos?" Most days I could see their perspective, what it might be like to see someone so different than everyone you know coming through town. Sometimes, after a long day, I had to say affirmations in my mind all the way through the town or until I got to my room to prevent feeling like a circus freak. Luckily, those harder days were much fewer than the other kind. Both gave me a chance to practice how I was showing up. I practiced staying open to people, and not taking their reaction personally or having it change what I did. Powerful and challenging lessons that will help me anywhere.

Niraj noted several times that he and Krishna appreciated that my attitude was always upbeat, even when I was sick or obviously struggling through a difficult section of the trail. They called me a "lucky" girl, because of my dimpled smile and positive disposition. (Dimples in Nepal are considered a mark of luck.)

These lessons will most likely continue (and may intensify) in India. I will strive to keep in the forefront of my mind that I am a lucky and blessed woman.