It was relatively late in my life when I began to seek spiritual answers that truly belonged to me, rather than those imposed by society. A significant turning point occurred when I hiked the El Camino de Santiago from France through northern Spain. As I prepared for this hike, I decided to use the time to explore my genuine feelings, regardless of whether they were right or wrong. I formulated five questions that I needed to answer, and by the end of the 31-day pilgrimage, I had found my answers and felt confident in them. This was the real "me," whether others accepted it or not. Encouraged by the success of that approach, I entered the Kora with a similar mindset but brought only one question to ponder—shorter pilgrimage, shorter list of questions, haha. My question was to determine if I existed for myself or for others. Understanding this answer is crucial for structuring the remaining time of my life to fulfill my true purpose. Initially, the answer seemed straightforward, yet it turned out to be a challenging inquiry. Examining this question from various religious perspectives yields vastly different answers, with a clear distinction between Buddhism and Christianity. I identify with neither and do not believe in organized religion, so it is up to me to understand my own answer and pursue that purpose.
One significant advantage of the Camino was the solitude and time for reflection. There were wonderful personal interactions that enriched my answers, but the quiet moments proved particularly beneficial. However, due to the unique circumstances of the Kora—mainly related to its location and the people—I lacked that solitude. Being close to the Back of the Bus Gang was great, but it wasn't conducive to deep contemplation. Even the bathroom, usually a solitary spot, was not a place for privacy, which left me frustrated. By the second day, I recognized that I might have erred in thinking this would be the way to answer my question. As I steadily trekked along the stone and dirt path, focusing on my feet to avoid slipping, it was hard for me to appreciate the surrounding beauty. Was Mt. Kailash calling me to use this journey as a metaphor for my question? If I exist for myself, I must fully concentrate on the path to reach the end safely, taking one step at a time. Conversely, if I exist for others, then a fall might not matter as they could assist me, which would make them feel useful and enhance their experience. In this case, I should keep my eyes up, reveling in the beauty without worrying about falling.
However, if the beauty is meant to nourish my soul, then focusing on it might be the best way to build my spirit rather than concentrating solely on the path. Perhaps the challenging path is there for me to help others with my skills and abilities. I find myself going in circles with this reasoning. Although I have no clear answer yet, I believe I am directing my efforts correctly. I need to remain open to my feelings and perspectives and see where Mt. Kailash is leading me. My experiences with the Red Cross over the years have given me a sense of helping others, which made me feel that I existed for them. But I must admit that I also pursue adventure, learning, and changing scenery—elements that come with deployment, which satisfy my wanderlust and motivate my career, as I enjoy the challenge and find pleasure in being successful. Was that for my benefit or for my employer's? Again, I am conflicted because these experiences could be interpreted in various ways, leading to different answers.
It's entirely possible that both could be true: I am here to enhance my own spirit and to improve the lives of others. While this is a distinct possibility, I feel reluctant to settle for a compromise. There must be a reason for my existence, and I need to grasp the essence of that mission. No meaningful question is easy to answer, and I must keep moving forward. Perhaps discovering my belief in the ultimate goal of my existence will help clarify the steps I need to take to reach that destination. Beliefs about my existence could assist me, and I believe there exists a spirit that is central to the universe. I see God as Love. As an individual, I do not consider myself particularly important in the grand scheme of things; rather, I am a part of something greater than myself, and I may not need to answer such questions, as they are part of a larger plan beyond my comprehension. With all these thoughts expressed, I still feel only slightly closer to my answer. If I am insignificant, then what about me matters? My spirit and soul hold significance. This aspect is not physical, so perhaps I should focus on what within my spirit or soul needs to be prepared in this lifetime. More importantly, what actions can I take to reach that goal? Exploring my true feelings must be one step forward. Understanding who I am and what I believe is a critical part of this journey, and I feel I
One aspect I didn't expect and that wasn't clearly outlined in the itinerary is the significant time we would spend traveling. Mt. Kailash is quite distant, the roads are extremely rough, and there isn't much to see along the way aside from stunning landscapes. Although the journey is worthwhile, it wasn't my favorite aspect.
Today, I find myself in a somewhat melancholy mood. One member of our Back of the Bus Gang has left. Helena is on her way to Nepal, having departed today with a couple from Malaysia, which means our tour group is now reduced to 7.
This afternoon, I returned to Lhasa. For this final day of travel, we chose a different route than the one we took to Mt. Kailash. The path to the mountain was very picturesque with several stops, but it was bumpy and slow. On the way back, there were no scenic interruptions, and the highway was relatively new, which resulted in a smoother ride, allowing us to travel faster. Upon our arrival, we bid farewell to our driver and guide, collected our additional checked luggage, checked into our rooms, and then I went out with Tony and Yelina to complete some souvenir shopping and grab a bite to eat. We walked about 30 minutes from the hotel to a street market, made our purchases, and ventured into a less touristy area. We were the only Westerners there, clearly in a local neighborhood. We found a local diner, ordered dumplings—always a popular choice—filled with yak meat. Tony selected a dish from a picture on the wall that looked intriguing, which turned out to be akin to a Shepherd's Pie, but made with yak meat and topped with a tortilla. That dish took quite a while to be prepared, and while waiting, a mother and her three daughters finished their meal at a nearby table. The girls greeted us with "Hello," their only English phrase, while continuing to smile and glance at us. I found it challenging to interact in such situations, as I felt like a novelty; I often smile and say hello but wished for deeper engagement. I asked Yelina if she could help facilitate communication and see if the girls would like to take a picture with me, which I also wanted. The mother agreed, and the girls eagerly arranged themselves for the photo. They were very sweet, and from their reactions, I believe this made their day, and they would share the experience with their friends. The meal was quite satisfying, and we left to explore a bit more but soon returned to the hotel. Tony, a rugby fan, noted that there are no sports bars here and hopes to watch the match on TV instead of his phone; it’s crucial for him to see this game.
I realize I've discussed toilets quite a bit, but I think it deserves a separate post. The only Western-style toilets were found in hotels. In fact, the one in Chengdu was fully electronic; it had self-flushing, a heated seat, an integrated bidet, and a control panel on the wall that was too intricate to figure out during an overnight stay. Other hotels featured fairly typical flush toilets. After that, things took a turn for the worse.
Documenting numerous personal, unpleasant specifics and certainly too much information. If you're squeamish, please exit now.
It was relatively late in my life when I began seeking spiritual answers that were genuinely mine, rather than those imposed on me by society. The significant turning point occurred when I hiked the El Camino de Santiago from France through northern Spain. As I prepared for this journey, I resolved to use the time to explore my genuine feelings, regardless of whether they were right or wrong. I formulated five questions I needed to address, and by the end of the 31-day pilgrimage, I had answered them for myself and felt assured in my responses. This was truly "me," like it or not. Encouraged by that success, I approached the Kora with a similar mindset, bringing just one question to consider. A shorter pilgrimage meant a shorter question list, humorously speaking. My inquiry during this period was to ascertain whether I believed I existed for myself or for others. Knowing the answer to this is crucial for shaping how I spend the remainder of my life to realize my true purpose. Initially, the answer seemed quite straightforward, but it soon revealed itself to be a challenging question. Examining this question from different religious viewpoints yields completely different answers—take, for example, Buddhism versus Christianity. I identify as neither and do not adhere to organized religion, which means it's my responsibility and necessity to understand MY answer and pursue that purpose.