The Perfect Day
“I lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.”
Psalm 121
What?! During the past 2 days, the opening line of this passage from the Bible kept popping into my head. Not being remotely (and even anti-) Catholic, this was a surprise even for me—especially since I have never read the Bible. It felt weird, like a voice from another lifetime. Thoughts from another person, plucked out of the thin air around me. Where was this coming from? I kept asking myself. Obviously, I heard it somewhere. Read it someplace. Probably watching Charleton Heston utter the line in “The Ten Commandments.” Who knows?
The day was perfect. Chris and I stepped outside our lodge room in the inky blue of pre-dawn. The mountains were etched against the sky and the glittering stars began to fade. In the cold, clear air of 14,500 feet, the pale blue of snow capped Himalayas slowly turned pink with the rising sun. Finally, mountains! They rose around us in the morning light and we were surrounded by the giants of the Himalayas.
As we made our morning climb, Lhotse, Ama Dablum, and Island Peak made their presence known in the crystal clear day. Prayer flags gently waved in the morning sunlight, strung from the white washed gompa high above Dingboche. Yaks grazed along the hillside, their bells jangling as they yanked their meal from the ground ignoring us as we snapped a few pictures.
The high alpine meadow we began to cross transported me. I didn’t know where to look. Whiplash was about to set in. We were surrounded by mountains. Behind, in front, to the left, to the right. The jagged peaks reached high into the deep blue sky like the teeth of dinosaurs. A river valley fell below us in varying shades of green, the small village of Pheriche nestled in the corner. Below my feet the meadow revealed another world. Small scrubby vegetation hugged the ground for protection mingling with wildflowers. Pale blue star shapes, pink puffs, dainty yellows, red berries, violet bursts tucked themselves against stones and ruts. I found my self tip toeing so as not to crush these delicate plants. Seemingly vulnerable, they must be tough. At nearly 15,000 feet, they would have to be.
We stopped for tea in the one lodge village of Dughla in the shadow of Awi Peak (I was sure the Grinch lived at its top) before making the final leg to Lobuche for the night. As we kept climbing higher we passed piles of stones carved with names and dates on a windy ridge—memorials to those who died on Everest. The landscape became increasingly lunar and the air sharper and thinner. Our pace slower and breathing rapid as we reached our lodge at over 16,100 feet.
As we walked across that meadow, I forgot myself. Forgot where I was from, forgot what I did, forgot what I was about. Forgot that I was filthy. Forgot about cancer, money, growing old. Forgot about worry. I was in a bright, indefinable moment where the world falls away. Even though I continued to noticed the unbelievability of where I was at the top, and other side, of the world, I didn’t feel the distance.
At the end of the day I don’t think I was looking for the Lord but a pathway into my own connectedness. Whether it be God, Buddha, Allah, whoever you choose, something had brought me to this place and time, this particular day. And in being here experienced a complete connection between spirit and earth. It was a day, a moment, that flashed. Where the planets aligned themselves and crossed paths with my lifeline. Where my soul expanded to be a part of it all. I was surrounded by a perfect world. Snowy peaks reached into the deep blue sky above me and the high alpine meadow, with its confetti of wildflowers, beneath my feet. The air, clean and cool. The sun, bright and clear. The elusive here and now that exists in dreams and lives in memory. Heaven. When I lifted my eyes to the hills, I knew I was exactly where I was suppose to be.
Photos from this trip can be viewed here.
