Warm Foothills

I've participated in a couple Vipassana retreats over the years. These are 10-day silent retreats in which one sits for 10 hours of the day focusing on the breath and gaining awareness of the body. It's a grueling task and the first few days are pure hell, but by the end I never want to start talking again. Around day seven something in me shifts. I get over the discomfort from sitting in a lotus position on the floor and begin to actually enjoy the silence and tolerate the physical aches.

Every Monday I hike up to Kogate, sometimes with a practitioner but most times I am alone. The trail is part dirt road and part trail meandering through villages before climbing up a steep incline to a ridge line and slowly drops down to Kogate. I hike up listening to music and greeting every passerby. Most speak to me in Nepali, but I'm usually alone and have no way of knowing what they are saying. I've started saying, “Namaste! Kogate!” I think they must be asking where I am going. The trek has become routine for me and each week it is a little less arduous. Hiking is my form of meditation. The rhythm of my music sets my pace. The fresh air replenishes me. Sweat cleanses my skin. My muscles awaken and ache. I settle into the moment. This is what I'm doing for the next three hours, just walking.

There was a time in my life when I resisted the calmness of hiking. I'd judge myself. Critic my pace, always too slow. My aches meant I was a fat slob and out of shape. Self judgement ruled the entire experience and I would become enraged. It's a wonder I stuck with it. The payoff was always the completion of the trail, a vista view, waterfall or isolated campsite. A distance hiker friend of mine used to say the best part about hiking was not hiking. The moment you arrive at your destination, take your pack off and know you accomplished something. This, I believe, has been what kept me hiking all these years. The reward always beats the anger and judgement.

During my hikes up to Kogate I've noticed I judge myself less. Anger has not entered my thoughts. When I feel tired and slow, I say it's ok and just keep walking. When my muscles ache, I feel it and am thankful I have the strength to keep going. I've accepted my pace and the aches associated with climbing a trail. I don't know when it happened, but my self criticisms have decreased a little and I realize I am starting to accept myself as I am.

This wasn't always the case. I spent many years hating myself because I didn't have the figure I idolized, the brains to solve cross-word puzzles, the drive to run a marathon or anything I compared myself against. Maybe it was turning thirty and realizing I'm not going to suddenly turn into the perfect version of myself. Maybe it is having someone in my life who accepts me just as I am. Maybe all the time I spent alone, hiking up a mountain and taking my pack off at the end, was a layer of self hatred shedding.