Sherpa in Los Angeles

A Sherpa friend of mine was visiting Los Angeles.  His adventure was relayed to me by a friend who lives in Aspen.  I thought of my Sherpa friend and his life.  Waking at 5 a.m. every morning to the silence of the Himalayan dawn.  Only the wind and mountains brush the high atmosphere, stirring the soul.  A true nature bath. 

My friend would start his prayer meditation, as most Sherpas from the Khumbu region do, each morning.  His home is nestled in a hanging valley at 14,600 feet, higher than any peak in the lower 48.  After prayer he would start a fire in the stove, bundle himself and go for a walk in the shadow of holy Mt. Khumbila.  There are no trails where he walks.  He has shown me places in the Gokyo Valley where no foreigner has been.  Snow leopard dance here.

When my friend in Aspen relayed the story of my Sherpa friends travels in Los Angeles she laughed and paraphrased a statement that he had said.  He was riding in a car down Interstate 5 looking around, maybe a slight hint of discuss on his face.  He says to the person driving the car ( imagine a strong Sherpa accent). “Here we are driving down highway, coffee in one hand, steering wheel in other hand, texting on phone, and no one knows where they are going.”  I know this friend well and believe this statement had a physical as well as a spiritual meaning to it.  I believe he was speaking in metaphor.

I am a bone marrow transplant survivor.  Death seemed near on many occasion in the 3 year journey. There were times during the ordeal when I felt I was walking through an endless dark night with no light in sight, deep endless dark.  The beauty of such a severe journey is the awareness that comes.  I remember my life before transplant and know my life after.

My Sherpa friends statement “no one knows where they are going” reminds me to be awake and aware of how I spend my minutes. Every moment is sacred and being mindful of these sacred moments makes us truly alive.