A Ring of Fire
TRIPtych — Nepal 1
Here I am. Flying. On top of the world.
I pop open my plastic window shade. Light streams through the porthole and onto my tiny tray table.
I take a peek out.
And all I see are clouds.
Puffy and dense. White and grey.
Clouds as far as the eye can see.
I see nothing on the ground. But I trust that it is still there.
I see nothing but blue above me.
Open skies.
Open horizons.
Options.
No rules. No barriers. No gravity.
It brings back memories.
Memories of sitting on top of the Himalayas.
Getting up before the dawn.
Climbing through the darkness.
Climbing through clouds and cloud cover.
Never expecting to see the light.
Then stepping through the cloud bank and waiting patiently for the dawn.
All is dark.
And then it comes.
First the hint of rose. Hitting a rock. Giving a sense that there may be something solid there.
Then a deeper salmon glow.
With warmth in the colour.
You see the colour kiss the tip of a mountain, casting a shadow of a shape.
Then creep ever so slowly down the hill
Leaking rivulets of gold. As the sun comes up.
Suddenly you realize that you are looking upon a ring of fire as the rising sun hits peak after peak after peak, lighting up the world, like the beacons of old, sending out a message of hope and newness.
Sitting on top of the world.
A world, full of possibility.
Open horizons
No rules. No barriers. No gravity.
Just Glory.
And the wonder of a new day.
This is a second-person interpretive recollection of my husband’s experience that morning told through the photos. I stayed back at the tea house to safe-keep our 8-, 6- and 4-year olds. Our guides decided that it would be unwise to wake three little-uns and take their groggy selves up a treacherous mountainside in the dark at 4 a.m. to experience this essential highlight of the Annapurna circuit.
The full Nepal TRIPtych series (it’s a circular story):
This post was previously published on Medium and on my personal blog karenadesouza.com