Warm and tender, soft and bright. Children frolic and ducks glide by. Insects scuttle around on rocks with purposeful fervor as though my arrival on their little island were a cause of excitement. For these little beings, the mass of water around them must seem like a seamless expanse of mysterious fluid and I look at this lake that seems confined to an ever decreasing phenomena we all call nature and as I look at it I wonder about the limitless possibilities that lay beyond the horizon... and within myself.
The wilderness beckons and I think of a time when man and nature co-existed. I think of a choking cry from small clusters sanity on our planet speaking with hopeful... almost desperate voices about sustainable development. I think of humanity and then I think of myself. I must choose a path... I must face an innate conundrum... Should I join this battle for the future of mankind or live my life to the fullest. While my deep respect for the best in all of us will never wear out... that respect is rooted in self realization. I found myself and feel that it is every individuals own choice to find him/herself. The choice is made instantaneously.
I look around me breathing in the summer breeze redolent with the scent of warm, naked rock. The bright blue sky glows vividly overhead splattered generously with blazing white clouds. This image is carved on the horizon with the Mt. Blanc rising tall and proud as though is burst forth unto the skies from the depths of the earth and frozen in it's journey towards the heavens. It stands there in the distance flanked by the silhouette of a soporific mound of rock and as my vision is drawn closer to my perch, I see green... Not the lush green of the wild that I have grown to love. This is a subdued green manicured by human will. It is indeed unfortunate that so many humans choose to live within the confines of facades designed to shield them from the truth. A truth that wrenches their hearts with fear... a truth that they'd rather not accept; that we humans are born wild and free.
Friday, 23 May 2008
Monday, 12 May 2008
Existence of God
I strongly feel it is important here to dichotomize the words God and Religion in the world today and the concept of God using the mainstream philosophical argument.
The word itself means different things for different people. The common argument constructed by theists to convince their atheist counterpart revolves around some essentials:
This is a completely valid argument. My dispute with this argument is that how does one explain the seeming chronological, spatial and conceptual infinity of god? The concept is created to put a stopper to a concept that escapes the intellectual block that we humans face when dealing with the question of infinity. "God is infinite," theists would then claim. Well, if God is infinite and so is the universe, I don't see any reason to believe that one form of infinity is different from the other... both are conceptually the same. So, God is the Universe and the Universe is God. Both interchangeable words... I prefer the former to avoid the ridiculous connotations of the word "God" propagated across society through religion.
This argument is parallel to the infinity concept. What is the original cause? I don't know. Many call it God. I call it incomprehensible infinity or the Universe.
I'd like to deconstruct this idea. The ultimate of all virtues, this argument claims is this singular entity of God. I would simply ask... who sets the standards here?... the standards of virtue. Isn't it humans? Our perceptions of beauty and virtues are different depending on the personalities, value systems and circumstances each of us is subject to. This disintegrates the concept the singularity of God. If each of us were to name our perceptions of the superlative as God, we'd have many more Gods.
The Buddhists believe in part of this concept as well. Madhyamaka practitioners stress on the importance of the fact that before existence came non-existence; before something came nothing. However, they add that nothing has the potential to create everything else. The don't detach the divine from existence and non-existence. They believe is is possible for humans to reach that state of nothingness through meditation. That is their concept of nirvana. I prefer the Buddhist way of thought where this is concerned and would like to add that if one were to claim that god was hanging around in nothing to create something and that God is something, then the nothing did not exist in the first place.
On the other hand, when one says that nothing and everything is divine, that implies that every one of us is divine. Using theist terminology, that makes every one of us God. I'd rather call you by your name :-)
I feel this is the strongest argument made so far. Intelligent design has been long debated. If God is mystery and infinity and if we as humans are incapable of understanding the true nature of God the only method of knowing whether this God exists is to go by his/her intentions. These seem pretty clear. Building the universe, of which Planet Earth, our home, seems to be of barely importance but means the world to us and us alone. This god went into the detail of creating these handcrafted odds and ends like plants, animals, humans, and so on... and then we have theists who believe that this god had an intention... how? and what is that intention? The planet we're on has an expiry date on it and so does every one of us and the intention of God is an inappropriate phrase given to what it really is... the purpose of life itself. I call it life force... a power potent and intelligent enough to direct the evolution of every being in existence... and as for the non-living things, I call it physics.
True, this raises more questions than answers and that's the point. There are unanswered questions and we could start with seeing things for what they truly are instead of settling in for misunderstood, inadequate and inappropriate nomenclature and conceptual fantasies.
Religion adds more frills to this concept of God further contorting it into a melange of mysticism, customs, rituals, intolerance and shrouded ignorance all sparked by elements of shame, low self-esteem and a lack of courage to face the truth or embark on this seemingly infinite voyage of finding the truth where it isn't apparent.
The word itself means different things for different people. The common argument constructed by theists to convince their atheist counterpart revolves around some essentials:
- Initial motion
This is a completely valid argument. My dispute with this argument is that how does one explain the seeming chronological, spatial and conceptual infinity of god? The concept is created to put a stopper to a concept that escapes the intellectual block that we humans face when dealing with the question of infinity. "God is infinite," theists would then claim. Well, if God is infinite and so is the universe, I don't see any reason to believe that one form of infinity is different from the other... both are conceptually the same. So, God is the Universe and the Universe is God. Both interchangeable words... I prefer the former to avoid the ridiculous connotations of the word "God" propagated across society through religion.
- Original causation
This argument is parallel to the infinity concept. What is the original cause? I don't know. Many call it God. I call it incomprehensible infinity or the Universe.
- The superlative
I'd like to deconstruct this idea. The ultimate of all virtues, this argument claims is this singular entity of God. I would simply ask... who sets the standards here?... the standards of virtue. Isn't it humans? Our perceptions of beauty and virtues are different depending on the personalities, value systems and circumstances each of us is subject to. This disintegrates the concept the singularity of God. If each of us were to name our perceptions of the superlative as God, we'd have many more Gods.
- Original existence
The Buddhists believe in part of this concept as well. Madhyamaka practitioners stress on the importance of the fact that before existence came non-existence; before something came nothing. However, they add that nothing has the potential to create everything else. The don't detach the divine from existence and non-existence. They believe is is possible for humans to reach that state of nothingness through meditation. That is their concept of nirvana. I prefer the Buddhist way of thought where this is concerned and would like to add that if one were to claim that god was hanging around in nothing to create something and that God is something, then the nothing did not exist in the first place.
On the other hand, when one says that nothing and everything is divine, that implies that every one of us is divine. Using theist terminology, that makes every one of us God. I'd rather call you by your name :-)
- Universal governance
I feel this is the strongest argument made so far. Intelligent design has been long debated. If God is mystery and infinity and if we as humans are incapable of understanding the true nature of God the only method of knowing whether this God exists is to go by his/her intentions. These seem pretty clear. Building the universe, of which Planet Earth, our home, seems to be of barely importance but means the world to us and us alone. This god went into the detail of creating these handcrafted odds and ends like plants, animals, humans, and so on... and then we have theists who believe that this god had an intention... how? and what is that intention? The planet we're on has an expiry date on it and so does every one of us and the intention of God is an inappropriate phrase given to what it really is... the purpose of life itself. I call it life force... a power potent and intelligent enough to direct the evolution of every being in existence... and as for the non-living things, I call it physics.
True, this raises more questions than answers and that's the point. There are unanswered questions and we could start with seeing things for what they truly are instead of settling in for misunderstood, inadequate and inappropriate nomenclature and conceptual fantasies.
Religion adds more frills to this concept of God further contorting it into a melange of mysticism, customs, rituals, intolerance and shrouded ignorance all sparked by elements of shame, low self-esteem and a lack of courage to face the truth or embark on this seemingly infinite voyage of finding the truth where it isn't apparent.
Sunday, 11 May 2008
Before the burst
Psychosis. A phenomena so common that it would make one lose perspective of the concept of sanity looking at the world around. People are plagued with maladies: some innate, some behavioral and others having physical manifestations. The root of a symptom could be something seemingly unconnected. I'm surprised at the number of people I meet who have problems and by problems I imply real problems that deter their functioning as individuals and curb the spontaneity and honesty of their actions as a result of some discomfort associated with their natural tendencies.
These discomforts could be a result of mental conditioning or the Freudian idea of the subconscious. I like the nomenclature of this word sub=under the conscious. It makes it sound like the undercurrent of all our active thoughts, emotions, and actions.
It opens an almost infinite realm of possibilities of human behavior! If one notices closely, the behavior of most individuals, they demonstrate psychosis in some form or another; however obtuse it may be. Minor forms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Eating disorder, Sexual Disorders, Depression, anxiety which are all products of the occasional (or not so occasional) tendency for humans to slip into their weaknesses.
Particularly dangerous, in my opinion, are suppressed emotions. They build up inside like a volcano and if they don't find natural outlets through natural emotions at the natural time... they may burst out through other exits... causing the seemingly disconnected symptoms that I spoke of. Dangerous because untimely release of emotion through an unexpected mode only shows the dearth in human control over his or her own psychological framework.
The ideal solution is the truth and nothing but the truth.
These discomforts could be a result of mental conditioning or the Freudian idea of the subconscious. I like the nomenclature of this word sub=under the conscious. It makes it sound like the undercurrent of all our active thoughts, emotions, and actions.
It opens an almost infinite realm of possibilities of human behavior! If one notices closely, the behavior of most individuals, they demonstrate psychosis in some form or another; however obtuse it may be. Minor forms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Eating disorder, Sexual Disorders, Depression, anxiety which are all products of the occasional (or not so occasional) tendency for humans to slip into their weaknesses.
Particularly dangerous, in my opinion, are suppressed emotions. They build up inside like a volcano and if they don't find natural outlets through natural emotions at the natural time... they may burst out through other exits... causing the seemingly disconnected symptoms that I spoke of. Dangerous because untimely release of emotion through an unexpected mode only shows the dearth in human control over his or her own psychological framework.
The ideal solution is the truth and nothing but the truth.
Sunday, 4 May 2008
Directions
We're all walking in different direction. How do we know where we are heading?
To start with, our lives are interwoven in a beautifully intricate fabric. Sometimes people cross paths, sometimes they walk together. So my choices are not only a product of my personality but also of your actions. My thought could be instigated by an inner drive or an external stimulus... and the resultant choice would then lead to an action which manifests itself in a direction.
So, to know your direction, you must not only know yourself but also know everyone else around you. It gets more complicated when you realize that you've got to know all this in terms of the future.
Am I concluding then that it is not possible to know one's direction? No, I think it is.
If one does away with the mirage of time, which I feel is a deeply ingrained concept built to govern the rhythm of our lives, we will realize that the only direction that exists is in the present. The future does not even exist so the possibility of a direction existing in the non-existent concept of an imaginary context is flawed.
The only direction that exists is in this moment...Now. Needless to say that you know fully well where you are heading.
It is only in this flicker of the present that you will find anything of value. The past is a shadow, and the future... a dream.
To start with, our lives are interwoven in a beautifully intricate fabric. Sometimes people cross paths, sometimes they walk together. So my choices are not only a product of my personality but also of your actions. My thought could be instigated by an inner drive or an external stimulus... and the resultant choice would then lead to an action which manifests itself in a direction.
So, to know your direction, you must not only know yourself but also know everyone else around you. It gets more complicated when you realize that you've got to know all this in terms of the future.
Am I concluding then that it is not possible to know one's direction? No, I think it is.
If one does away with the mirage of time, which I feel is a deeply ingrained concept built to govern the rhythm of our lives, we will realize that the only direction that exists is in the present. The future does not even exist so the possibility of a direction existing in the non-existent concept of an imaginary context is flawed.
The only direction that exists is in this moment...Now. Needless to say that you know fully well where you are heading.
It is only in this flicker of the present that you will find anything of value. The past is a shadow, and the future... a dream.
Saturday, 19 April 2008
The climb
1am... My body clock buzzes. It's time to head towards the acme of my trip... Iztachuatl ("Sleeping Woman" in Nuatl - The language of the Aztecs). The imagery had me fascinated! The climb would begin at her feet, up her knees, down her stomach (a glacier of modest proportions), up her breasts (the highest point on this particular woman).
Before the climb begun, I still looked at Popo with a strong element of yearning. We were right there... in its lap and chose to climb the safer volcano. That was simply not my way of doing things.
Hilarion and I quietly ready ourself in the pitch dark... our hands steady... our faces taut. 12 hours to the summit(s) didn't require much... Crampons, Hiking Poles, a headlamp, 2 liters of water, a banana, a couple of chocolate bars and a fair amount of determination.
"Como Estas?", Hilarion asks, breaking the silence...
"Perfecto!"
We sit for a couple of minutes slightly hunched looking into the topography of the route we were about to take. Hilarion did not know my proclivity for high altitudes and nor did I. He was to make the decisions after 5,000 meters (assuming that I'll be too tired to think straight).
The first step I took upward... the mild disappointment of not being able to climb Popo was washed away by the vision of the starry skies above and the small patch of the path illuminated before us by our headlamps while our boots crunched the ice and rock strewn across the jagged slopes.
My head swarmed with a myriad thoughts that seemed to complement the sky bursting forth with little dots of light.
"Why do you like the mountains?" I directed one such thought at Hilarion.
"Well Miguel"... he answers, "because the mountains are honest and the true nature of people is exposed here."
I smiled.
At 4,800 meters, I could not feel my hands any more and the pressure on my lungs had become apparent because i was actually panting! I kept monitoring my bodily dynamics at these altitudes with great fascination. I knew about the lactic acid deposits that agonize the muscles at such low levels of oxygen but didn't feel it at all throughout my experience. I have my passion for running to thank for that.
I drift back into my world of thoughts... thoughts about what mattered most in my life. Thoughts about the moments I was creating and the moments that had gone by. The world around seemed to highlight my life and stress my existence more than any other place I have ever been. I knew, that very moment, the future I was heading towards. The only question was "when" and not "whether or not".
The wind beats against us with a vengeance as we climb incessantly towards the black sky as though punishing us for the impudence of our actions and dreams. The mountain path quickly disappearsleaving us with rocks shaped like broken glass protruding from the snow (ubiquitous at this altitude).
All I could hear then was the protesting gasps of my lungs, the threatening wind and the songs of my soul.
Time passed quickly as we climbed up the knees and soon the sky began turning reddish orange towards the east and as we reach the first summit (5000 meters) the sun begins its majestic ascent. Its rays cut through the freezing winds smothering our skin with a pleasant warmth. The fatigue creeping into my body was quickly forgotten with the vision that unfolded as the sun threw its light over the spectacular vision of snow clad mountains that seemed to rise from a thick blanket of clouds. Hilarion and I embrace each other on the first summit partly in celebration of our first victory and partly because we happy and understood each others happiness. It is one of those moments when one can share completely an emotion as intimate as bliss with a stranger simply because of a complete mutual understanding of that bliss.
As we bask for a while in the warmth of the sun, I look at the final summit which seemed a world away...
"Feeling alright?"
"I can still fight a bull.." I said to myself with a faint dizziness and an undaunted smile.
Hilarion seemed to understand. He smiled back and we climb onward.
My crampons lied unused in my backpack. The glaciers were not as deep as they used to be... thanks to global warming. Nevertheless, the glistening white ice spotted with volcanic rock jutting out like shark fins.
Hilarion had been here plenty of times and yet i sensed a subtle pleasure in him as he did it yet again.
I'm often asked why mountaineers do what they do. Doesn't it cause pain? Isn't it closer to self-afflicted torture? Why should a human put oneself through all that as a choice?
I ask myself these questions sometimes... I get the answer every step of my journey upwards. It isn't the summit that drives me. My destination is my journey. It feels like my whole life condensed into every single moment. A moment brimming with a melange of pain and pleasure... a moment where I stand naked and proud in the face of everything life throws at me.
Am I glorifying my existence? Definitely not! I'm simply making a statement of fact. I am the center of my universe. That makes me an egotist not an egoist. But, even that doesn't matter. Labels are like a haystack in a blizzard... ephemeral.
Surrounded by the stupendous power and sheer magnificence of nature, some feel humbled, others intimidated, others afraid and some completely placid. I feel me. The implication of that sensation is of an equal and innate power complementing the power surrounding me.
Purity, truth, strength, pride... this is what the mountains evoke in me. The pain is only a small fragment of this journey.
This is as simple an answer as I can give.
Crunching our way through the glacier, we finally approach the final climb... These are the moments when I put to test everything I believe in. I fervently claim the power of mind over body. I felt gushes inside that said "Stop!" My brain analyzed and presented me with all the possible consequences of moving on and none were very pleasant. Yet, somewhere inside, a faint whisper simply said "not yet." Why I listened to the whisper, i do not know... But, that whisper felt more intimate to me than everything else.
"I can still reach that summit and beyond." I said this to myself as a statement of fact not for motivation or inspiration but simply as the only possible truth.
The feeling is beautifully strange... Every step at that altitude sapped every ounce of energy from every part of my body unleashing more energy from unknown reservoirs.
We reached the summit... 5250 meters. A long embrace and a smile was all I offered and nothing else was necessary.
As usual, it was not a sense of achievement that I felt. Every summit that I have climbed simply feels like stepping into a space that I can call home. I was home every step of the way and the summit was like the manifestation of that spirit. It was simply like stopping and saying it out loud... "I'm home."
Around me was infinity with only one invitation in the midst of the endless horizons... Popocatepetl. It stood there level with the summit that I stood upon, smoking away, and beckoning me to make another journey.
After a while I hear Hilarion... "The weather is going to close in".
I wasn't bothered until he said... "We should start moving down"
It never strikes me that moving downward is part of the journey... It's the most painful part of the climb.
Though most climber consider this the more pleasant bit of climbing, I feel it can be much harder than the climb itself especially with a pair of hard (slightly smaller than required) CAT working books on. Ouch! The weight shifted from the heel to the toes and the resultant blisters were enough to make every downward step feel like a shard of coarse metal grinding excruciatingly against my bruised skin... and the trip down had only just begun.
However, the descent had it's ecstatic parts (I won't say moments since climbing down seemed to take forever). The most fun (and incidentally, the most painful part) was this stretch of steep, muddy surface where we had to step, slip and ski all at the same time while (skillfully!) avoiding the numerous rocks sticking out from the soft red mud as though mocking our impudence with their own. After making a glorious mess of things initially... stumbling, tumbling, making every mistake possible, i finally mastered the art of mud skiing (for that is what I will call it henceforth).
After what seemed like ages, we reached base camp and as is my nature, I turn back to see the summit and smile thinking of the journey and amazed at myself (yet again).
On our way back, Popo looms on the horizon one last time and I look at it knowing fully well that I will face it again. So, I didn't say goodbye.
Before the climb begun, I still looked at Popo with a strong element of yearning. We were right there... in its lap and chose to climb the safer volcano. That was simply not my way of doing things.
Hilarion and I quietly ready ourself in the pitch dark... our hands steady... our faces taut. 12 hours to the summit(s) didn't require much... Crampons, Hiking Poles, a headlamp, 2 liters of water, a banana, a couple of chocolate bars and a fair amount of determination.
"Como Estas?", Hilarion asks, breaking the silence...
"Perfecto!"
We sit for a couple of minutes slightly hunched looking into the topography of the route we were about to take. Hilarion did not know my proclivity for high altitudes and nor did I. He was to make the decisions after 5,000 meters (assuming that I'll be too tired to think straight).
The first step I took upward... the mild disappointment of not being able to climb Popo was washed away by the vision of the starry skies above and the small patch of the path illuminated before us by our headlamps while our boots crunched the ice and rock strewn across the jagged slopes.
My head swarmed with a myriad thoughts that seemed to complement the sky bursting forth with little dots of light.
"Why do you like the mountains?" I directed one such thought at Hilarion.
"Well Miguel"... he answers, "because the mountains are honest and the true nature of people is exposed here."
I smiled.
At 4,800 meters, I could not feel my hands any more and the pressure on my lungs had become apparent because i was actually panting! I kept monitoring my bodily dynamics at these altitudes with great fascination. I knew about the lactic acid deposits that agonize the muscles at such low levels of oxygen but didn't feel it at all throughout my experience. I have my passion for running to thank for that.
I drift back into my world of thoughts... thoughts about what mattered most in my life. Thoughts about the moments I was creating and the moments that had gone by. The world around seemed to highlight my life and stress my existence more than any other place I have ever been. I knew, that very moment, the future I was heading towards. The only question was "when" and not "whether or not".
The wind beats against us with a vengeance as we climb incessantly towards the black sky as though punishing us for the impudence of our actions and dreams. The mountain path quickly disappearsleaving us with rocks shaped like broken glass protruding from the snow (ubiquitous at this altitude).
All I could hear then was the protesting gasps of my lungs, the threatening wind and the songs of my soul.
Time passed quickly as we climbed up the knees and soon the sky began turning reddish orange towards the east and as we reach the first summit (5000 meters) the sun begins its majestic ascent. Its rays cut through the freezing winds smothering our skin with a pleasant warmth. The fatigue creeping into my body was quickly forgotten with the vision that unfolded as the sun threw its light over the spectacular vision of snow clad mountains that seemed to rise from a thick blanket of clouds. Hilarion and I embrace each other on the first summit partly in celebration of our first victory and partly because we happy and understood each others happiness. It is one of those moments when one can share completely an emotion as intimate as bliss with a stranger simply because of a complete mutual understanding of that bliss.
As we bask for a while in the warmth of the sun, I look at the final summit which seemed a world away...
"Feeling alright?"
"I can still fight a bull.." I said to myself with a faint dizziness and an undaunted smile.
Hilarion seemed to understand. He smiled back and we climb onward.
My crampons lied unused in my backpack. The glaciers were not as deep as they used to be... thanks to global warming. Nevertheless, the glistening white ice spotted with volcanic rock jutting out like shark fins.
Hilarion had been here plenty of times and yet i sensed a subtle pleasure in him as he did it yet again.
I'm often asked why mountaineers do what they do. Doesn't it cause pain? Isn't it closer to self-afflicted torture? Why should a human put oneself through all that as a choice?
I ask myself these questions sometimes... I get the answer every step of my journey upwards. It isn't the summit that drives me. My destination is my journey. It feels like my whole life condensed into every single moment. A moment brimming with a melange of pain and pleasure... a moment where I stand naked and proud in the face of everything life throws at me.
Am I glorifying my existence? Definitely not! I'm simply making a statement of fact. I am the center of my universe. That makes me an egotist not an egoist. But, even that doesn't matter. Labels are like a haystack in a blizzard... ephemeral.
Surrounded by the stupendous power and sheer magnificence of nature, some feel humbled, others intimidated, others afraid and some completely placid. I feel me. The implication of that sensation is of an equal and innate power complementing the power surrounding me.
Purity, truth, strength, pride... this is what the mountains evoke in me. The pain is only a small fragment of this journey.
This is as simple an answer as I can give.
Crunching our way through the glacier, we finally approach the final climb... These are the moments when I put to test everything I believe in. I fervently claim the power of mind over body. I felt gushes inside that said "Stop!" My brain analyzed and presented me with all the possible consequences of moving on and none were very pleasant. Yet, somewhere inside, a faint whisper simply said "not yet." Why I listened to the whisper, i do not know... But, that whisper felt more intimate to me than everything else.
"I can still reach that summit and beyond." I said this to myself as a statement of fact not for motivation or inspiration but simply as the only possible truth.
The feeling is beautifully strange... Every step at that altitude sapped every ounce of energy from every part of my body unleashing more energy from unknown reservoirs.
We reached the summit... 5250 meters. A long embrace and a smile was all I offered and nothing else was necessary.
As usual, it was not a sense of achievement that I felt. Every summit that I have climbed simply feels like stepping into a space that I can call home. I was home every step of the way and the summit was like the manifestation of that spirit. It was simply like stopping and saying it out loud... "I'm home."
Around me was infinity with only one invitation in the midst of the endless horizons... Popocatepetl. It stood there level with the summit that I stood upon, smoking away, and beckoning me to make another journey.
After a while I hear Hilarion... "The weather is going to close in".
I wasn't bothered until he said... "We should start moving down"
It never strikes me that moving downward is part of the journey... It's the most painful part of the climb.
Though most climber consider this the more pleasant bit of climbing, I feel it can be much harder than the climb itself especially with a pair of hard (slightly smaller than required) CAT working books on. Ouch! The weight shifted from the heel to the toes and the resultant blisters were enough to make every downward step feel like a shard of coarse metal grinding excruciatingly against my bruised skin... and the trip down had only just begun.
However, the descent had it's ecstatic parts (I won't say moments since climbing down seemed to take forever). The most fun (and incidentally, the most painful part) was this stretch of steep, muddy surface where we had to step, slip and ski all at the same time while (skillfully!) avoiding the numerous rocks sticking out from the soft red mud as though mocking our impudence with their own. After making a glorious mess of things initially... stumbling, tumbling, making every mistake possible, i finally mastered the art of mud skiing (for that is what I will call it henceforth).
After what seemed like ages, we reached base camp and as is my nature, I turn back to see the summit and smile thinking of the journey and amazed at myself (yet again).
On our way back, Popo looms on the horizon one last time and I look at it knowing fully well that I will face it again. So, I didn't say goodbye.
Monday, 14 April 2008
Towards the skies
So, here I am... in the lap of the Popo-Iztac Volcanoes. I am jubilant and excited about the prospect of reaching the summit at 5,250 meters in the morning tomorrow.
Reaching here was a fascinating journey. In
This way I actually had a chance of getting to the summit which considering my constantly protesting body seemed a distant dream (nevertheless, a dream that I was determined to pursue) especially if I spent most of my energy walking to base camp.
The next 2 days have been filled with some wonderful moments characterized by my rendezvous with people and nature. It was the first time since a long time since I actually got along with people with such ease and I the mountains provided me with the answer. One of the thoughts that struck me on my way up here which I shared with my mountain guide was that it takes a great amount of honesty of spirit to have a love for being in the mountains. This honesty or purity of spirit stems from the fact that in the wilderness you are confronted with an innate magnified reflection of nothing but yourself.
Popo is on a “Level II” alert as I write this. This is the second highest level of volcanic activity. Level
Naked, dangerous, virgin beauty awaits me and I will respond to its call. I feel like the space around me is sculpted with me being the center of this universe. I feel like it is mine… The snow, the rock, the ash, the wisps of grass, the flowers, the scuttling mice and geckos, the rolling slopes, the jagged cliffs, the hanging clouds, the chilled and fragrant air that fills my lungs, the music of the birds punctuated by a blissful silence...
Only one phrase rings within me at this moment, like the notes of a symphony of the song of my life… La pura vida… La dolce vida…
Sunday, 30 March 2008
Cholula
2 days to Popo
I sit here on the zocalo of Cholula, away from Puebla, closer to Popo with my usual lack of directions other than that of the magnificent sight that greets me on the horizon. The locals here don´t seen as fascinated as I am by the volcano that looms over their tiny town. People in Puebla told me I was crazy to choose Popo over La Malinche (A much safer, more tourist friendly, dormant volcano to the north-east of Puebla compared to the constantly threatening demeanor of Popocatepetl).
The tour operator was too expensive... and i don´t want a tour... Maybe I´ll find a local guide who knows the mountains... I must get to the other side to the town of Amecameca. That´s my only ticket back to Geneva since I´m absolutely not in the mood to turn back to the more familiar town of Puebla.
If only time had no limits, I would not have to worry about getting to Mexico City by a certain time and day. It is, however, critical that I get back... I have plenty of unfinished business and something to look forward to.
So, I will now forget about my semi-recovered body and all my worldly qualms and learn how far a man can go with a strong thumping heart.
Until then... Buenas Noches...
1 day to Popo
Dusty old shoes, dirty jeans, an idle knife dangling by the waist, a crumpled shirt thrown off taut shoulders, lying amongst the rocks, ruffled hair, an unkempt beard and eyes fixed upon the sillhouete of a volcano on the horizon.
It is 7 in the morning and I stand on a little hill towering over the quaint and humble little town called Cholula with the towers of some 50 churches within my range of sight. Maybe, I try convincing myself, it´s the fear of this giant furnace on the horizon that drives them to the seek refuge in religion... Alas, I know better.
This thought quickly drifts away with the sight of my only companions flying north... whle some happily hop around me searching for bits of food... The sparrows remind me of freedom... of ebullience... of life...
My hands are cold and my heart is afire with visions of what is to come. As of this moment, I am confronted by a strange conundrum... The vision of Popo is in front of me while the Sun glows at my back and I laugh aloud with the ecstacy of the choice... by the fullness of this moment.
Buenos Dias... Popo, here I come :-)
I sit here on the zocalo of Cholula, away from Puebla, closer to Popo with my usual lack of directions other than that of the magnificent sight that greets me on the horizon. The locals here don´t seen as fascinated as I am by the volcano that looms over their tiny town. People in Puebla told me I was crazy to choose Popo over La Malinche (A much safer, more tourist friendly, dormant volcano to the north-east of Puebla compared to the constantly threatening demeanor of Popocatepetl).
The tour operator was too expensive... and i don´t want a tour... Maybe I´ll find a local guide who knows the mountains... I must get to the other side to the town of Amecameca. That´s my only ticket back to Geneva since I´m absolutely not in the mood to turn back to the more familiar town of Puebla.
If only time had no limits, I would not have to worry about getting to Mexico City by a certain time and day. It is, however, critical that I get back... I have plenty of unfinished business and something to look forward to.
So, I will now forget about my semi-recovered body and all my worldly qualms and learn how far a man can go with a strong thumping heart.
Until then... Buenas Noches...
1 day to Popo
Dusty old shoes, dirty jeans, an idle knife dangling by the waist, a crumpled shirt thrown off taut shoulders, lying amongst the rocks, ruffled hair, an unkempt beard and eyes fixed upon the sillhouete of a volcano on the horizon.
It is 7 in the morning and I stand on a little hill towering over the quaint and humble little town called Cholula with the towers of some 50 churches within my range of sight. Maybe, I try convincing myself, it´s the fear of this giant furnace on the horizon that drives them to the seek refuge in religion... Alas, I know better.
This thought quickly drifts away with the sight of my only companions flying north... whle some happily hop around me searching for bits of food... The sparrows remind me of freedom... of ebullience... of life...
My hands are cold and my heart is afire with visions of what is to come. As of this moment, I am confronted by a strange conundrum... The vision of Popo is in front of me while the Sun glows at my back and I laugh aloud with the ecstacy of the choice... by the fullness of this moment.
Buenos Dias... Popo, here I come :-)
Thursday, 27 March 2008
A walk into the night
A white spray settling on lush green,
glistening in the soft moonlight.
The sight is like a texture in itself
but my heart could not resist the urge
to touch the soft wet blanket of grass.
I bend over and allow my fingers
to be swallowed by those tender blades.
Enraptured in the sheer luxury of the sensation
I spend the moment in pure bliss...
Life! That's the difference!
A fearless embrace to life!
I see it here.
I just heard its manifestation
in the most energized drumming I've ever heard.
Three men and one woman drumming
the beats of their lives... WIld and fReE
PoWErFUL and ecSTatiC
sYnChRoNiSeD and SOULful
and then the language... Spanish...
it rings out like the beats of the drums...
Tortas Cubana y Moca Frio! Ah!
Perfect companions for this night...
and this is the perfect end to a day in Puebla...
i walk back with a new found friend
walking by me like he has known me for years...
bright eyes... brisk steps... black, brown and white fur
thick and untidy like the hair on my head! :-)
glistening in the soft moonlight.
The sight is like a texture in itself
but my heart could not resist the urge
to touch the soft wet blanket of grass.
I bend over and allow my fingers
to be swallowed by those tender blades.
Enraptured in the sheer luxury of the sensation
I spend the moment in pure bliss...
Life! That's the difference!
A fearless embrace to life!
I see it here.
I just heard its manifestation
in the most energized drumming I've ever heard.
Three men and one woman drumming
the beats of their lives... WIld and fReE
PoWErFUL and ecSTatiC
sYnChRoNiSeD and SOULful
and then the language... Spanish...
it rings out like the beats of the drums...
Tortas Cubana y Moca Frio! Ah!
Perfect companions for this night...
and this is the perfect end to a day in Puebla...
i walk back with a new found friend
walking by me like he has known me for years...
bright eyes... brisk steps... black, brown and white fur
thick and untidy like the hair on my head! :-)
In the search of Light
Shielded from the light
lies a dull gray sight.
Hidden amongst the gaudy shades
a masked world idly wades.
I search in vain for eyes that
hold a sign of truth, a fountain
bursting forth with
a manna that I call life.
lies a dull gray sight.
Hidden amongst the gaudy shades
a masked world idly wades.
I search in vain for eyes that
hold a sign of truth, a fountain
bursting forth with
a manna that I call life.
Monday, 24 March 2008
The empty masks
The world's future leaders writhing together in hedonistic delight; empty and inane. I understand today the reason for most of the world's problems; It's power in the hands of these semi finished humans. Why! Why am I even in the vicinity of this ghastly display of nothingness!
It strikes me though that this is quite an accurate scale model of the real UN, conceptually speaking.
It is situations such as these that a phrase leaks out from my pit of unforgettable, redundant and putrid thoughts; "Work hard and party harder".
Isn't it a a chronic dearth in a passion for life and a reason for existence that drives humans into pursuit of such forms of escapism... I already know the answers but it was never reinforced so violently that draws from me only one declaration - never again.
Around me I sense the cause for the degraded fabric of our concept of humanity and suddenly i'm surrounded by a dark void... The only whole truth remaining is my own.
It strikes me though that this is quite an accurate scale model of the real UN, conceptually speaking.
It is situations such as these that a phrase leaks out from my pit of unforgettable, redundant and putrid thoughts; "Work hard and party harder".
Isn't it a a chronic dearth in a passion for life and a reason for existence that drives humans into pursuit of such forms of escapism... I already know the answers but it was never reinforced so violently that draws from me only one declaration - never again.
Around me I sense the cause for the degraded fabric of our concept of humanity and suddenly i'm surrounded by a dark void... The only whole truth remaining is my own.
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