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18.01.2011
The
truth is that I am still floating. Three weeks are gone since I
returned from Himalaya and I cannot find – or I don’t want to find it -
the exit from this dome of fascination which seized me. And not just
because everything was perfect and because everything was as it was. But
just because everything was perfect in an amazing imperfection!
Under that thing some people name it “a hard shell”, I always had my
sensitivity corners. At this moment, I don’t care about what a he or a
she are saying, what are they thinking or judging about me. And maybe in
this way, lost in this emotional fog I failed into, I will learn to
ignore – and to overcome – the rough issues and behaviours, the deep
egocentrism coming from those I more less expected, to ignore and
overcome the surrounding superficiality, the parasitism, the sloth,
demagogy and my own powerlessness in front of a situation that depends
of a context and an objective reality, but which strikes me and makes me
lose my direction.
I’ve
just remembered about those long minutes from my life, about that short
time I spent alone on a rock, somewhere in an overwhelming Himalayan
desert, coming out from one Ends of this big World. Fighting with a
ragged soul, with that kind of emotion I struggle every time when I have
to survive a separation that I hate to experience, I was in a point
when I had to leave behind me a world corner where probably I suffered
the most during this adventure. No drama, it was no disaster, the
suffering was composed only of physical and emotional pain that together
led to a trivial short-term psychological collapse. It was on Monday,
Decembr 27th, 2010 and I was going down from a high altitude,
about 5.000 meters over the sea level, from Gokyo Lakes Area, Everest
Land. The place where you greet some giants of this planet, but not only
the Everest itself. You may greet the Ngozumba Glacier too, the longest
glacier in the Himalayas. You are surrounded by the area of the natural
records and you are so small and insignifiant. And lonely. And you turn
your back against your will for returning to a world where you do not
recognize yourself, where you don’t refind yourself. A world you hate
it. But this is also a detail that you must live with, because if you
talk about it, you will suffocate because your own inability to
understand the others’ reactions.
It’s
four o’clock in the morning. My exam starts in 6 hours, after two more
days I have another one and this is my life for the next three days.
Then I finish all the exams this session and I have a break. For what?
That break I am waiting for like a breath for starting to read the words
and thoughts of Sir Edmund Hillary and of Tenzing Norgay Jamling’s as
they were expressed many years ago when myself I did not even exist on
the list of still unthinkable babies. Reading and write, this is what I
want to do. The rest issues seem to be a secondary matter, although the
life and the place where I am living will inevitable point me out that
my priorities should be different and that the order of the elements in
my actual life should change. This is true, I know. The Maslow’s pyramid
is not a mere fiction, but the reality that will bring me with my feet
on this Earth. Eventually.
I was descending from that universe, though beautiful, sublime, still hostile and cold. And every step of mine was a ton of regret.
I
left behind me the narrow and dusty path, getting out from the noisy
river area, where the water's strong and wild voice covered all others
sounds. I went down on the front shelf paths, contrasting generous and
widely under my feet and I suddenly stopped.
Behind me, I left the path to a hidden world that you cannot see in the picture.
In
front of me another path which brings me to another world. I came from
that world before reaching the world I now was coming back ....
There
was no turning anywhere. Just inside of me. And when we meet an
intersection we usually are accustomed to stop. For assuring and
choosing, deciding and making the next step. That step is the step for
the next one and so one til the moment we die. Everything is connected,
everything is hooked up, we sometimes get circles in our life, sometimes
squares, pyramids, lines, curves, inverted pyramids and we go through
all kind of geometrical shapes whose name we know ongly because of some
linguistic inventions.
I
stopped and looked for a higher rock, in order to fix my camera and
take a picture trying to keep the illusion of an image of the state I
felt there and then. The pictures cannot forward thoughts, but the still
communicate some things. The batteries of the camera were very low, so I
couldn’t afford too much options, I had to manage one shot and only one
and to get a right picture. And though I take such photographs usually
in other circumstances – when I feel that I want to dance and to frolic
and to express the excitement of a moment -, this time I felt so lost. I
wanted to take a picture of me getting lost inside me. I felt so lost
in a palpable sense of pain of the soul. The soul, that “thing” which
all doctors are seeking to heal and never find it, they just believe
that they are getting closer, but whatever they poke, they never reach
it.
Well,
that moment, the moment behind of this picture is actually the essence
of a travel I did on several levels. It was one of the conscious trips
in the sense that I wanted in a particular way to understand the
significance of every moment I experience. But somehow, when I’m there,
although I breath with every pore the every single particle of the every
single moment, I do not feel anything particularly deep inside. It is
just a simple mixture of superficial and common feelings which I can
translate in even more common words: beautiful, warm, dark, ecstasy,
cold, hunger, well, fatique, thirst, nature, road, people, tired,
animals, hard, loneliness, curiosity, fascination, sleep, insomnia,
energy. That’s all. There’s nothing profound. Then, when everything is
finished, ended, after you changed the rhythm, the screenplay, the
landscape, the tomorrow’s day perspective, the food, the program,
expectations, time, area, activities – only then it starts the real
processing of information you collected. Then appear a different moment,
when you should see what are you doing with all these, how do you
manage, how do you pass over the new emotions and states.
The Shangri La exists.
You cannot see it.
Don't look after it.
It is a matter of feelings and senses.
You cannot see it.
Don't look after it.
It is a matter of feelings and senses.
Woω, this pіеce of writing is nicе, my youngеr ѕister is analyzing such things, therefore I am going to tell her.
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