Stirring Point

I’m alive here. Mountain air rushes through the caverns and folds of my chest with each inhale. The pinch in my upper back has finally released and it feels like I’ve stolen the shoulders of a younger man. My mind is light, as if the strings of attachment have been snipped from the world’s yanking expectations. I slide between joy and peace, like a child deciding between pieces of candy. I chose both, knowing these emotions are not mutually exclusive, and my mind floods with contentment. My only desire is to be present in this moment.

Bhutan is a gift for any traveler, regardless of how worn their wandering boots may be. The nation sits beyond the boundaries of the modern world, whispering from its hidden edges to those in search of another way forward. It eschews the mango lassis and backpacker hovels of Southeast Asia, viewing its natural resources as limited and prized. It sees its land as something to be cherished and maintained, rather than a piggy bank to be pillaged. And I feel it; I feel their effort to abstain from economic exploitation. I feel their commitment to their future.

Each morning arrives like warm water across the skin. Like magnets to iron, nearby peaks pull me from the comfort of bed, beckoning me to take my first sips of the morning. Mountain ridges and lush valleys are cast in the purplish hue of the dawn’s alpenglow. My only sin is my impatience—I want to dress to baseline decency, then race toward the base of each peak and sprint to their summits. An ethereal light rests on the snowy ridges between mountains and I feel I must touch that light at any cost. The effort may burst my lungs. The exertion may induce hypoxia. I’m drunk with desire. This is hypnosis. The mountains have captured me.

My feet find reality as I scrunch the carpet between my toes. What a gift it is to feel this draw to something, to anything, if only for a moment. I’m in love with the world and feel that I’m a part of it; I’m a log in the cabin, not just an observer passing through its halls. I want my loved ones here in the huddle of my arms to feel this incandescent warmth, this comfort, and this true connection to the earth. I want their eyes to see that we are all okay—that we are here for a flashbang in history and what a miracle it is to have the gift of existence. I want their lungs to breathe without an ounce of anxiety and their minds to feel the peace pulsing through my veins. Simply thinking of our love for each other swaddles me in contentment and brings me close to tears.

We use the day to walk through rice paddies and past sustenance farmers pounding harvested reeds to free the grains. We slip off our shoes and hats before entering the ornate entries to Bhuddist dzongs (monasteries). Delicately carved wooden doorways invite our entry, while tibetan incense cuts a line through the air and transports our senses with reverence and curiosity. Monks clad in maroon and yellow robes hasten by, bound for their meditation cushions and scriptural text. I step to a cushion near the back of the room and plop into half-lotus, closing my eyes and losing myself in their chants.

We hike past tattered prayer flags and giant prayer wheels. We gaze over valleys dotted with conical domes of stacked hay. Villagers, bent at the hip, shoulder heavy loads of firewood along the river’s edge. It’s a world I don’t know—one my western eyes can’t seem to recognize. There should be more chaos. There should be morsels of panic to ingest.

Bhutan is a dream—my dream. It’s an inhaler for infirmed lungs. It’s a shot of life and a reminder to slow down. I’ve tasted little but I love it here. I want more, but I must calm myself from the pull of desire. I must embrace each step while I’m here, listening to the earth crunch below my feet. I must smile at each passerby as if they are the only person on the planet. I must drink my tea and cherish each sip. And when the cup is empty, I’ll move on to the next part of my day and attempt to treat that with the same reverence. Bhutan thinks that’s a good way forward, and I’m happy to give it a try.