Leaving Nepal

Today I fly. It's hard to believe. This place has come to feel like home. The rhythm of each day predictable, comfortable, familiar. Yet I am poignantly aware that my loved ones are elsewhere and I am moving, albeit in the opposite direction, towards them. I am also aware that I am not ready to come home. There is something about being free of roles, expectations, responsibilities that is delicious; an experience I haven't had since I was in my 20's. That sense of possibility, of freedom to be myself, whatever that looks like today, is filling. I want to take that with me, even when I pick up the harness of work, even when I slip into "granny" status again. I've noticed that when I don't use a part of myself, after a while I lose familiarity with that part and feel that it is no longer accessible. If I am not in a sexual relationship, I must not be sexy. If I am not free of responsibility, I must not be carefree. If I am not doing something new and untried, I must not be adventurous. But all those parts exist regardless of my activities. And I don't want to lose them again.

When I was working in Napa, it was so easy just to fill up on the activities of the day. Work, maintenence of the home, of my body, some brief time for personal relationships, sapped my energy and left me with a sense of exhaustion and being trapped. And yet I loved my work, my relationships. So how do I pull those other newly rediscovered parts out as I pick up those routines? Ah yes, more to discover.

I am lucky. I walk through the streets of Nepal knowing that this afternoon I will be on a plane to Australia. I look at the people here, caught in poverty. There is little opportunity for the luxury of going away and exploring what means the most for them. They are grateful for hot water, should they have that, a full belly, healthy bodies. It is a gift, this affluence, health and education that lets me explore, travel both internal and external. I am lucky.