27 April 2025
I woke with a big, blooming smile in my heart. Forty-one! It’s almost surreal. I was looking forward to this day — an off-day meant for celebration, for sweetness, for soul nourishment.
As I came downstairs from my room, I saw Zen deep in meditation. Not wanting to disturb his process, I quietly moved around the space, getting ready for the morning. My phone rang, and with a full heart, I stepped out onto the balcony to take the call — a long, warm conversation with my brother and parents. It felt so good to connect with home.
But when I returned inside, Zen was nowhere to be found. I’d noticed him coming and going during the call, but I hadn’t realized how much it affected him. I knew by now how sensitive he was — how wide open his nervous system becomes in the early hours, after traveling through dimensions during the night. I’d been trying to honor that sensitivity, but I hadn’t understood how deeply sound could impact him during those first waking moments.
When he came back, he asked to talk. He was visibly upset — not just about the call, but also about the fact that I had plans that afternoon. I had been invited by a friend I met in Nepal in 2022 — Sunil, whose family lives in Manali. He saw I was in the area and reached out, offering to host a small, impromptu birthday gathering. I was touched by the gesture, and naturally wanted to go.
I tried to hold space for Zen, to explain, to understand. But it was clear his emotions had taken hold. The loneliness he carries — possibly far deeper than he lets on — had been stirred. My choosing to spend a few hours elsewhere must have felt like abandonment to someone who has spent so long in solitude.
To soften things, I invited him out for cake and coffee. Hesitant at first, he eventually agreed.
We walked to the German bakery just down the road. Over breakfast, delicious chocolate cake, and strong coffee, I could feel his struggle — that aching disconnection from a world he no longer fully belongs to. And maybe, just maybe, part of why we met was so I could help him begin to gently ground again — to help him remember how to be in this world, after so long living in the space between.
When it was time for Sunil to collect me, I was excited. We were heading to a nearby waterfall, nestled high in the mountains. The drive was breathtaking — winding roads through lush forest, giant trees, snow-tipped peaks dancing in the sun.
At the base of the waterfall trail, we passed friendly locals and cozy tea stalls. The path was steep but short, and soon I was sitting with my bare feet in the icy, rushing water. The afternoon light glowed golden through the trees, and the magic was palpable. Sunil and I sat there, catching up on everything life had offered us since that rafting trip in Nepal. The moment was gentle, grounding, real. Giant, ancient trees were smiling down on us as we had an impromptu photo shoot – how could we not try and capture this beauty! Sitting down at the base of one of the ancients, I felt tiny. These trees must be at least a few hundred years old. Basking in the energy of a being so enormous, yet so gentle, always stirs a fierce protectiveness in my soul.
We chose to walk part of the way back, allowing the mountain air to seep into our bones. Green wheat fields rippled in the wind, monkeys played in towering trees, and soft rose-tinted light bathed the snowy peaks. I felt like I had stepped into a fairytale.
Back in the village, Sunil brought me to a friend’s guesthouse where pizza was ordered and a surprise birthday cake appeared — complete with candles. Strangers gathered, singing happy birthday with wide, welcoming smiles. The warmth and hospitality of these people, these beautiful souls I had just met, filled me up in a way that words can’t quite hold. For a brief moment I was sad that I didn’t have more time here. I made a mental note to return to these mountains if I ever had time to spare…
That creeping sense of birthday loneliness — so familiar to many solo travelers — was nowhere to be found.
My heart, overflowing with gratitude and connection, was full.
Tomorrow, I begin the journey back to Delhi.
