I decided to leave Tansen, the little town in the hills that I had come to love. But my time was short, and the distance long. So onward to Delhi I thought I would go, with a stop off in Lumbini for the night. I packed my things, checked out of the Siddharta hotel, and walked down the hill, stopping for one last Roti and potato curry breakfast on the way.
I quickly found a bus heading out of the valley to Butwal, and got on. It was crowded inside, so much so that I was jammed in facing backward on a hump seat at the front. I tucked my pack close to my legs and huddled in as people continued to push into the bus until there was no where to move. The bus caller asked if he could put my bag on the roof, and I hesitatingly accepted.
The bus pulled away, and I asked quickly if I could crawl up on the roof to sit instead, but I was told no, and generally that is the case within city limits in Nepal. About 45 minutes down the valley, a woman to my left started vomiting, really filling up a plastic bag with yellowish barf. She was sweating and looked extremely road sick. Perhaps I looked uncomfortable as at this moment the bus caller invited me to climb out and on the roof. I readily accepted and hauled myself up to the top, joining a couple other guys up there.
I scanned the roof rack for my bag, thinking I would sit on it for comfort. "Hey, where's my backpack?" I shouted down into the bus. A head poked out and told me not to worry, it was in the back of the bus. I was relieved, and sat down, smiling. Wait, I thought. He put it up here. "Hang on, where's my backpack?" I called down again. Talk in Nepali. Glances at me. Pointing. Nervous looks.
I started getting worried; clearly something was wrong, and the reality sunk in that either my bag had been left, fallen off, or was stolen.
I climbed down, facing the bus caller, this time demanding an answer. Go with the bus to Butwal, I was told, and he will go back up and look for my bag. I told him to send the bus on. If my pack is missing, I'm going to find it, and if not, well, I didn't think that far ahead.
We caught another bus, and I spent an hour riding back up hill telling myself that it's just stuff and I shouldn't worry yet anyway because we didn't know what had happened. Before long, he looked at me and said we should get off and check at this road side restaurant. This worried me. Why here? Why not start at the bus park? What did he know?
We asked a lady there and she actually said that she thought a man had walked past down a trail with what could have been my pack. What to do? It's been two hours already.
A motorcycle pulled up, and luckily there was my friend Kiran, a local student I had hung out with and shot pool with the previous night. I explained what had happened and he promised me that we would find my bag. Down the road there was a group of college students and people hanging around, and we approached them. Kiran knew some of them so I explained again the situation and promised a 1000 rupee reward for my bag. Thus our posse was formed.
We were about 12 people and 4 motorbikes. We headed out on the trails, asking people as we went, driving through mud and around hills and rocks. But no one had any further information.
I was despondent, and beginning to give up hope. One of the students said, "never lose hope". But looking out over the valley, I thought that in two hours, someone could be anywhere in those hills. I offered money for gas, but no one took it, too disappointed to take any money. We drove back to the road side restaurant.
A van was there, the door just shutting. Something in my mind flashed and I hurried up the hill, unsure of what I had seen but certain of something. I threw open the door of the van, slamming it, and looked in. My backpack was there, on the floor of this van. I stared at the man. "Where did you get this? Why do you have my bag?" I demanded. By then, the posse had surrounded the van, questioning this man, and the driver.
They had found it up on a hill, they said, by some old house. But why were they here now, at this moment, and what were they planning to do? These questions remained unanswered, but the posse was convinced of their innocence. I was relieved, shocked and also confused, but so happy to have my bag. Trusting my gang, I offered the two men some cash which they accepted. I also, strangely, felt guilty, unsure of the meaning of these events, wondering why I deserved such fortune. Though I happily slung the pack over my shoulder, pleasantly feeling it's weight.
I opened the top and unzipped the compartments to verify my belongings. Everything was there save the nylon sac for my rain coat, strangely, and some of the ties had been knotted together. Basically, it was all there. I suggested, as had been mentioned earlier, reporting the event to the police, but was told they would likely do little if anything.
I handed the posse a 1000 rupee note, and we retired to the restaurant for tea and food. We discussed the events and came to have a good time together. I decided to postpone my trip by one day and stick around, as it was getting late. But at this, the posse didn't disband. We cruised the hills, happy and excited by the strangeness of the day and the new friendships it had arranged.
I had my bag, as if it had never been gone. And we had a story, some new pals, and the once in a lifetime experience of roaming the countryside on two-wheeled steeds as a band of men, a posse, with valiant intentions, and justice in our minds.
What is the meaning of this? Why did this happen? I don't know, but I'm glad that it did.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Travelers' English
I've noticed certain people with kind of obnoxious verbal habits when traveling. Here they are in a pretentious list:
1) Using the verb "do" when referring to places visited or having intent to visit.
Yeah, I did Bandipur, or I'm hoping to do Thailand and South East Asia next year.
This implies to me that places are activities, or duties, like "I did the laundry", or a checklist, rather than actual real places where people live. Also, sometimes a place is criticized due to some preceived lack.
I hated Gorakphur, there's nothing to do there.
2)Using words like "they" or "them" or "these people".
They don't seem to mind bumpy roads. These people always rip me off.
Obvious. Generalizations.
3) Using baby talk when talking to non-native speakers.
Where bus station? How far Ghorka is?
Dropping out articles, scrapping prepositions, not conjugating verbs, or just messing up the order of the sentence. Often speaking these bizarre phrases a little too loud, even when the listener is clearly well spoken. Once even, after baby talk was responded to with a clear and reasonable answer, I was turned to and quietly told, "that's the trouble, sometimes they just don't understand".
1) Using the verb "do" when referring to places visited or having intent to visit.
Yeah, I did Bandipur, or I'm hoping to do Thailand and South East Asia next year.
This implies to me that places are activities, or duties, like "I did the laundry", or a checklist, rather than actual real places where people live. Also, sometimes a place is criticized due to some preceived lack.
I hated Gorakphur, there's nothing to do there.
2)Using words like "they" or "them" or "these people".
They don't seem to mind bumpy roads. These people always rip me off.
Obvious. Generalizations.
3) Using baby talk when talking to non-native speakers.
Where bus station? How far Ghorka is?
Dropping out articles, scrapping prepositions, not conjugating verbs, or just messing up the order of the sentence. Often speaking these bizarre phrases a little too loud, even when the listener is clearly well spoken. Once even, after baby talk was responded to with a clear and reasonable answer, I was turned to and quietly told, "that's the trouble, sometimes they just don't understand".
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Ranighat; Tansen, Palpa
The walk to Ranighat is well worth it. It's long, but beautiful, and the path is more or less easy to traverse and follow. From the top of Tansen, near the Shreenagar hotel, you can begin your walk, or from the East side, if you prefer, a slightly longer route along the ridge of nearby hills is possible. I walked down and up the same way, not having enough time for the whole loop, but was still happily satisfied by the journey, though exhausted by the end.
The walk down is about 3 hours, and the walk up about the same, I found, though I took a wrong path, went left instead of right near the top of the hill and found myself in a town to the west rather than Tansen and had to walk around the hill. So the return took 4 hours. Take little paths that cut down the hills for short cuts; be careful, it's tough to sense direction in these winding trails, but ask people you meet and you'll find the quickest way. Oh, and don't give pens to the kids. Especially not when they accost you with: "give me pen!". How did this start?
I was on my own, and happy to be there in the daylight. Though even with the sun shining in, going up into the attic was spooky experience and you can attest to the creaks and thuds that this old buildings emits when you make the trip yourself. I would suggest to anyone, dare anyone(?), to spend the night in the old mansion. I hear it was built in memory of the Governor's late wife, the story goes...
The walk down is about 3 hours, and the walk up about the same, I found, though I took a wrong path, went left instead of right near the top of the hill and found myself in a town to the west rather than Tansen and had to walk around the hill. So the return took 4 hours. Take little paths that cut down the hills for short cuts; be careful, it's tough to sense direction in these winding trails, but ask people you meet and you'll find the quickest way. Oh, and don't give pens to the kids. Especially not when they accost you with: "give me pen!". How did this start?
I was on my own, and happy to be there in the daylight. Though even with the sun shining in, going up into the attic was spooky experience and you can attest to the creaks and thuds that this old buildings emits when you make the trip yourself. I would suggest to anyone, dare anyone(?), to spend the night in the old mansion. I hear it was built in memory of the Governor's late wife, the story goes...
Friday, August 21, 2009
Kathmandu to Tansen
Kathmandu is noisy and hectic and the air is murky; if this becomes too much for you, as it was for me, head out to Tansen where the steep cobbled roads are a challenge for cars and motorbikes, and therefore there are few of them.
And why not take the long way out, via the Thribuvan Highway? Though, a comment about 'local transportation' rather than 'tourist buses': it's not cheaper to ride local, unless you really know where you're going and can bargain well to the proper price. But for adventure, it's the way to go.
Day one: Kathmandu to Daman.
Taxi to Gongu Bus terminal (15 min, 100npr). Wrong place.
City Bus to Kalanki Bus Chaos (15 min, 20nrp). No bus to Tansen until tomorrow.
Bus to Naubise (1.5hr, 50npr was asked for 100).
Long-haul truck to Daman (3hr, 100npr). Hitched a ride.
With waits in between took about 8 hours and 270npr.
Stayed at Sherpa Hotel in Daman, the spookiest place in the country. All alone in a big place up the road, just mice and spiders. And creaky floorboards.
A monastery near Daman.
Day two: Daman to Sauraha.
Bus to Hetauda (2.5hrs, 110npr). Crowded bus. Beautiful scenery.
Bus to Sauraha Chowk (1.5hrs, 70npr). Super hot in the Terai.
Car to Sauraha (15min, 100npr!). Super rip off. In a tourist place like Sauraha, if someone says, 'my friend will give you a ride', it doesn't mean free ride.
Around 6 hours and 280npr.
Stayed at Hermitage hotel by the river. Nice sunset view, but overpriced for what the room was (400npr). Decided to opt out of 'Safari Tours' as this whole town gave me a bad vibe--so serious, all business. Let the Rhinos have privacy.
Chitwan national park
Day three: Sauraha to Tansen.
Motorbike to Chitrasali (10min, free). Sometimes there are free rides. Young student saw my thumb and was happy to have company up the road.
Horse Buggy to Sauraha Chowk (15min, 50npr). Bumpy but fun ride.
Bus to Narayangarh (20min, 20npr). On the roof in the sun.
Bus to Butwol (3.5hrs, 80npr). Good deal, hot bus. So crowded.
Bus to Tansen (2hrs, 70npr). Got on the roof until a cop told me to get down. No roof travel in cities. But the bus was so super crowded I couldn't fit inside and everyone jammed into the doorway. Out of the city, the excess passengers covered the roof. Beautiful ride up the valley.
Around 8 hours and 220npr.
Tansen is a lovely town; I'm staying at the Gautama Siddharta Hotel, or something like that. It's reasonable. And quiet.
So, the trip took three days and many hours, and about 770npr, but it was good; though I would have liked more time to stop here and there. None of the legs were too long, so it was never really uncomfortable, and even if they say 'no bus' there's always someone who will give you a ride in Nepal, usually for a price, but it's rarely that high, and everyone is happy to have you along.
tansen
In the Shreenagar, the forest above the city, the crown of Tansen.
Shreenagar
a tansen temple
And why not take the long way out, via the Thribuvan Highway? Though, a comment about 'local transportation' rather than 'tourist buses': it's not cheaper to ride local, unless you really know where you're going and can bargain well to the proper price. But for adventure, it's the way to go.
Day one: Kathmandu to Daman.
Taxi to Gongu Bus terminal (15 min, 100npr). Wrong place.
City Bus to Kalanki Bus Chaos (15 min, 20nrp). No bus to Tansen until tomorrow.
Bus to Naubise (1.5hr, 50npr was asked for 100).
Long-haul truck to Daman (3hr, 100npr). Hitched a ride.
With waits in between took about 8 hours and 270npr.
Stayed at Sherpa Hotel in Daman, the spookiest place in the country. All alone in a big place up the road, just mice and spiders. And creaky floorboards.
Day two: Daman to Sauraha.
Bus to Hetauda (2.5hrs, 110npr). Crowded bus. Beautiful scenery.
Bus to Sauraha Chowk (1.5hrs, 70npr). Super hot in the Terai.
Car to Sauraha (15min, 100npr!). Super rip off. In a tourist place like Sauraha, if someone says, 'my friend will give you a ride', it doesn't mean free ride.
Around 6 hours and 280npr.
Stayed at Hermitage hotel by the river. Nice sunset view, but overpriced for what the room was (400npr). Decided to opt out of 'Safari Tours' as this whole town gave me a bad vibe--so serious, all business. Let the Rhinos have privacy.
Day three: Sauraha to Tansen.
Motorbike to Chitrasali (10min, free). Sometimes there are free rides. Young student saw my thumb and was happy to have company up the road.
Horse Buggy to Sauraha Chowk (15min, 50npr). Bumpy but fun ride.
Bus to Narayangarh (20min, 20npr). On the roof in the sun.
Bus to Butwol (3.5hrs, 80npr). Good deal, hot bus. So crowded.
Bus to Tansen (2hrs, 70npr). Got on the roof until a cop told me to get down. No roof travel in cities. But the bus was so super crowded I couldn't fit inside and everyone jammed into the doorway. Out of the city, the excess passengers covered the roof. Beautiful ride up the valley.
Around 8 hours and 220npr.
Tansen is a lovely town; I'm staying at the Gautama Siddharta Hotel, or something like that. It's reasonable. And quiet.
So, the trip took three days and many hours, and about 770npr, but it was good; though I would have liked more time to stop here and there. None of the legs were too long, so it was never really uncomfortable, and even if they say 'no bus' there's always someone who will give you a ride in Nepal, usually for a price, but it's rarely that high, and everyone is happy to have you along.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Thoughts on Vipassana Meditation (don't read if you're planning to do a course; better to see for yourself)
I finished the course this morning at around 7:30; by then we were speaking again, and had been allowed to speak since the previous afternoon which was a jolt to the mind and I felt clumsy, though most of the people seemed eager to chat. I felt like staying on my own. But my roommate, whom I hadn't even glanced at in 9 days was a friendly fellow who has done the course many times in his life so we had deep conversation and explored our experiences together. His was much like mine, even after all these years of meditation.
I meditated for 10 days straight, and spoke only a handful of words in that time. silent. in that time, as i made use of the teacher's, S. N. Goenka from Burma, advice, i explored deeper into my mind, and thoughts and ideals and ideas became experiential realities in the body. Very profound.
We stopped talking on the evening of day 0, and from then on, it was like we were in our own worlds, not even making eye contact or recognizing eachother in any way. This is not to say that there wasn't contact of a sort; like the typical clearing of throats and burping and farting that seemed almost constant at times. Behind me for five days a young guy sniffled until I thought I might turn around and strangle him, so instead I asked if I could change seats (we could speak briefly to the teachers if we needed), and I did. But then I realized that now in my new seat, my neighbour was fidgety and clearly not concentrating, tapping his finger and changing his position, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, and slowly it dawned on me that I can't change these things, but must change myself; and it was these realizations, as the meditation took us deeper and deeper that became more and more profound as I came to find that my mind lacks answers to life's deepest issues and that the only way to truly find freedom and peace and balance is to learn to listen to the deepest levels of the body, the sensations. Awareness and equanimity; these two words became my whole world. Be aware of the body, don't think, feel the changes come and fall away, feel the pains in my legs, agony at times, but don't react, just observe, be aware, feel the mosquito bite but don't react; for like every other event, every sensation, this too will pass. And be equanimous. Don't crave for pleasure, don't be averse to pain; know that these are and always will be, impermanent.
In this order the thinking mind offered alternatives to meditation, in order by day:
random chatter--usual meandering stream.
constant images--flashes of image of various kinds, fewer words.
specific chatter--no more images, or fewer, but more specific thought; doubt.
a single song--happened to be kickapoo, Tenacious D. Had to be. So annoying.
long dialogues--longer more focused trains of thought, doubt beginning to be handled.
another song--can't remember which, but all day going on.
traumatic experiences relived--childhood and adolescence; emotionally charged.
sex--images, difficult to 'just observe'.
thinking again--last day, tough to concentrate, but times of real focus as well.
These realizations came at time with great difficulty; the first time (the first of many times) we were asked to sit and not move an inch for a whole hour, I sat, sank into myself, felt the subtlety arise, the vibration that only a sharpened mind can sense, and began to scan the body as we were taught, each part, feel, move on, feel move on, be aware, don't desire the pleasant vibration, don't deny the unpleasant aches, the aches, the aches, oh what is this in my legs, this pain, what is this, oh MY LEGS! The ache felt infinite, like it would never end, and the hour was eternal, like I had been left with closed eyes in some hell of unending suffering; I cursed the course, I cursed Goenka, I was desperate, I sweat and trembled, but I kept my eyes closed; I didn't move. And suddenly... braaawng. The bell. I could move. And the pain was gone and I forgot it.
My mind tried many things to get my attention, though in that time, I didn't want to give it any, I was looking elsewhere than thought for answers.
I struggled with this idea for some time. Eventually, the pain will decrease and I will be able to sit and then what?For what was this? Am I to become a masochist? No, slowly I understood that this is a course. It is a contrived situation that assists you to realize certain truths; not seek them out, but become aware of how the body reacts, the conditioned and life-long created reactions that throw us into a disarray. Pain is in not just an ache in the leg; it is the struggle in a relationship, it is the sting of harshwords, and the more we recognize them and react to them, the more they dominate us. We are cut off in traffic and for an hour after we stew while the other driver goes on in oblivion; why take that unwanted gift of suffering, why react to that which will end up being a self inflicted wound. I am totally responsible for my happiness and as well my suffering. This is a difficult concept to learn. Like all concepts, it may settle in the mind easily, but does the body agree and comply? This is the main realization: I thought I knew so much. I did, and do "know" so much, but when have I *experienced my knowledge? When have I *experienced impermanence and equanimity and change and observed it at it's deepest level in my own being? Perhaps never really. I had a moment where I was struggling, but suddenly, I did nothing, I just eased into awareness of my body as my body and felt, like a camera coming into focus, like light coming into the eyes, the reality of that which is. Just for a moment; and then for two days, I *Craved that experience again, and of course it never came because I searched and a sharp mind doesn't search, it waits and it watches the reality as the reality is; it can't create it.
The mind is a thing that I control, but at the same time, it is it's own entity, strangely. The body too; both can be observed as they function on and on.
Again, all of this is words, and the whole course was so subtle and indeed minor that I feel my life will mostly be the same, but deep down I have knowledge of a technique, a process that can help me. That I can lose too, so I will try my best to keep up the practice, such a simple practice: close my eyes and watch what happens, don't react. But it is a looong process, but a worthwhile process. Though indeed, I am the same, but with a new awareness. I'm back in Kathmandu and the noise and the honking and the stink still irritates the hell out of me, but now there is something else, and tiny ability to look at the sensation, not just the source.
I meditated for 10 days straight, and spoke only a handful of words in that time. silent. in that time, as i made use of the teacher's, S. N. Goenka from Burma, advice, i explored deeper into my mind, and thoughts and ideals and ideas became experiential realities in the body. Very profound.
We stopped talking on the evening of day 0, and from then on, it was like we were in our own worlds, not even making eye contact or recognizing eachother in any way. This is not to say that there wasn't contact of a sort; like the typical clearing of throats and burping and farting that seemed almost constant at times. Behind me for five days a young guy sniffled until I thought I might turn around and strangle him, so instead I asked if I could change seats (we could speak briefly to the teachers if we needed), and I did. But then I realized that now in my new seat, my neighbour was fidgety and clearly not concentrating, tapping his finger and changing his position, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, and slowly it dawned on me that I can't change these things, but must change myself; and it was these realizations, as the meditation took us deeper and deeper that became more and more profound as I came to find that my mind lacks answers to life's deepest issues and that the only way to truly find freedom and peace and balance is to learn to listen to the deepest levels of the body, the sensations. Awareness and equanimity; these two words became my whole world. Be aware of the body, don't think, feel the changes come and fall away, feel the pains in my legs, agony at times, but don't react, just observe, be aware, feel the mosquito bite but don't react; for like every other event, every sensation, this too will pass. And be equanimous. Don't crave for pleasure, don't be averse to pain; know that these are and always will be, impermanent.
In this order the thinking mind offered alternatives to meditation, in order by day:
random chatter--usual meandering stream.
constant images--flashes of image of various kinds, fewer words.
specific chatter--no more images, or fewer, but more specific thought; doubt.
a single song--happened to be kickapoo, Tenacious D. Had to be. So annoying.
long dialogues--longer more focused trains of thought, doubt beginning to be handled.
another song--can't remember which, but all day going on.
traumatic experiences relived--childhood and adolescence; emotionally charged.
sex--images, difficult to 'just observe'.
thinking again--last day, tough to concentrate, but times of real focus as well.
These realizations came at time with great difficulty; the first time (the first of many times) we were asked to sit and not move an inch for a whole hour, I sat, sank into myself, felt the subtlety arise, the vibration that only a sharpened mind can sense, and began to scan the body as we were taught, each part, feel, move on, feel move on, be aware, don't desire the pleasant vibration, don't deny the unpleasant aches, the aches, the aches, oh what is this in my legs, this pain, what is this, oh MY LEGS! The ache felt infinite, like it would never end, and the hour was eternal, like I had been left with closed eyes in some hell of unending suffering; I cursed the course, I cursed Goenka, I was desperate, I sweat and trembled, but I kept my eyes closed; I didn't move. And suddenly... braaawng. The bell. I could move. And the pain was gone and I forgot it.
My mind tried many things to get my attention, though in that time, I didn't want to give it any, I was looking elsewhere than thought for answers.
I struggled with this idea for some time. Eventually, the pain will decrease and I will be able to sit and then what?For what was this? Am I to become a masochist? No, slowly I understood that this is a course. It is a contrived situation that assists you to realize certain truths; not seek them out, but become aware of how the body reacts, the conditioned and life-long created reactions that throw us into a disarray. Pain is in not just an ache in the leg; it is the struggle in a relationship, it is the sting of harshwords, and the more we recognize them and react to them, the more they dominate us. We are cut off in traffic and for an hour after we stew while the other driver goes on in oblivion; why take that unwanted gift of suffering, why react to that which will end up being a self inflicted wound. I am totally responsible for my happiness and as well my suffering. This is a difficult concept to learn. Like all concepts, it may settle in the mind easily, but does the body agree and comply? This is the main realization: I thought I knew so much. I did, and do "know" so much, but when have I *experienced my knowledge? When have I *experienced impermanence and equanimity and change and observed it at it's deepest level in my own being? Perhaps never really. I had a moment where I was struggling, but suddenly, I did nothing, I just eased into awareness of my body as my body and felt, like a camera coming into focus, like light coming into the eyes, the reality of that which is. Just for a moment; and then for two days, I *Craved that experience again, and of course it never came because I searched and a sharp mind doesn't search, it waits and it watches the reality as the reality is; it can't create it.
The mind is a thing that I control, but at the same time, it is it's own entity, strangely. The body too; both can be observed as they function on and on.
Again, all of this is words, and the whole course was so subtle and indeed minor that I feel my life will mostly be the same, but deep down I have knowledge of a technique, a process that can help me. That I can lose too, so I will try my best to keep up the practice, such a simple practice: close my eyes and watch what happens, don't react. But it is a looong process, but a worthwhile process. Though indeed, I am the same, but with a new awareness. I'm back in Kathmandu and the noise and the honking and the stink still irritates the hell out of me, but now there is something else, and tiny ability to look at the sensation, not just the source.
10 days in meditation (vipassana) + 10 days in the mountains (annapurna)
One trip in the mind, the other so much in the world; both though, were about the body.
In the mountains, the endlessness of the climbs, or the endurance test of the rain and the stomach turning leeches, were unavoidable. Once a few days out, there are few choices, none involving sitting down. Either turn back and try to walk out, but that would be silly, or look up to the peaks and walk up, slowly, step by step. Essentially there was no choice, the only direction up, or down and then up again.
In Vipassana, the endlessness of the posture and the rambling mind, the silence and the doubt, were unavoidable, though there was a choice. And this made Vipassana the challenge that it was. It was never a question of whether I could stay and complete the course, it was whether I could do it well, and benefit from it. Here there is the choice to simply sit; but to work, that took much more effort, much more attention, ardent focus. I could spend an hour, an hour after hour, in day dreams, or in anxiety, but from that I would learn little, or I could muster my energy and observe the body, see its changes, and learn from them.
Both require great effort at times, and both resulted in learning, one through the struggling, slogging push of the active body step after step, the other through the quiet simplicity and silent awareness of the still body. Though they were similar, Vipassana through the effort, provides insight into all actions in life, and can assist each of those steps through the mountains; though it's of great enlightenment as well to walk into the Annapurna Base Camp Sanctuary and realize that you've done it--every step became the entire walk, and here you are.
In the mountains, the endlessness of the climbs, or the endurance test of the rain and the stomach turning leeches, were unavoidable. Once a few days out, there are few choices, none involving sitting down. Either turn back and try to walk out, but that would be silly, or look up to the peaks and walk up, slowly, step by step. Essentially there was no choice, the only direction up, or down and then up again.
In Vipassana, the endlessness of the posture and the rambling mind, the silence and the doubt, were unavoidable, though there was a choice. And this made Vipassana the challenge that it was. It was never a question of whether I could stay and complete the course, it was whether I could do it well, and benefit from it. Here there is the choice to simply sit; but to work, that took much more effort, much more attention, ardent focus. I could spend an hour, an hour after hour, in day dreams, or in anxiety, but from that I would learn little, or I could muster my energy and observe the body, see its changes, and learn from them.
Both require great effort at times, and both resulted in learning, one through the struggling, slogging push of the active body step after step, the other through the quiet simplicity and silent awareness of the still body. Though they were similar, Vipassana through the effort, provides insight into all actions in life, and can assist each of those steps through the mountains; though it's of great enlightenment as well to walk into the Annapurna Base Camp Sanctuary and realize that you've done it--every step became the entire walk, and here you are.
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