We woke before dawn and from our room-side deck we watched the jeweled sun rise elegantly over the towering Annapurna Range of the Himalayas. The rays of the sun glimmered off the string of mountains rising to 27,000 feet into the sky, and its heavenly arms reaching down to the base of my toes, tingling and shaking the sacred amulet within once again. We stood together in the midst of the tallest mountains in the world, on the other side of the globe, and gazed intensely at our objective. It was the unknown, the impossible that lay ahead and my spirit seemed to separate from my body. It danced directly in front of me with the solar hue of the Himalayas behind, radiating a golden aura around its translucent edges. It seemed to know what lay ahead along the rugged path to the top of the world, and it soared naked to the shaman’s truth, singing from the place where our innocence was born. No, it wasn’t unknown after all; I knew the distinct face of this spirit dancing openly before me, and more importantly, I knew why I could suddenly see it now. It was the "underlying pattern," this path into the jagged teeth of the Himalayas, this truth, this flaming arrow from the chaste cherub now lit the way to the top. I had accepted this fate, this obscure path inward, and now I wondered as this vision dissolved, would this vision set me free upon the wings of faith?

I immediately felt alone, cold, shivering in this divine presence of Mother Nature, who seemed to be personally singing Her sweet tantalizing melody summoning us. I was being drawn now, called forth by some unseen force that lay placidly within the breast of nature. I felt my will now clashing with this immense tidal force pushing my identity back into a featureless void. I struggled and writhed to free myself from its oppressive grip, this focused burning upon my soul. I stared grim-faced at the objective, those mountains before me, as a sharp undefined thumping began pulsating in my head. In that moment, as far as I knew I’d come, I suddenly felt as if I’d gone nowhere, achieved nothing and I was back in the dream in Fiji, feeling as if I was nothing.

Again, I had to retreat.

We took a taxi to the beginning of the trail where we stood at the bottom. I threw the large backpack onto my shoulders, while Bren slung upon her shoulders a smaller backpack with a sleeping bag dangling from its bottom. We looked upwards into the rustic woods hanging ominously above us, together this tribe of two, and I felt that fevered clash once again, my will, this nature, and I breathed inward the test from "God." I knew in that moment that I would emerge from this forest, I would retreat from these the tallest mountains in the world, a different being—one way or another. I felt this nothingness return, the thumping resumed its playful dance in my aching skull, and my will was challenged again. A vision of the Pemberton Tree popped into my throbbing head, and after initial ebb of will, it surged forward and I drove straight up the forbidding path into the forest upward to the source of the thumping.

We trudged up the rugged stone stairs and dirt path through the thick dense forest until we reached a plateau of rice fields and small houses where we then stopped to rest.

"It looks like from the map we've climbed 3000 feet in the two hours," I said to Bren.

"I don't know if we're that out of shape, or if it's really that difficult."

"Probably a little of both."

"I don't know how long I can keep this up, Bri. I'm tired already."

"I know, babe. It's the first day though, we know it's going to hurt, we know we're going to be flat out beat at the end of the day, let's just try and deal with it now."

"Dammit, why do you have to be so gung-ho? It's always push, push, push with you. I'd like to just be back at home sitting on the couch mindlessly watching TV right now."

"You think. Look at that!" I said pointing to the expanse of the valley behind us, the small river flowing through the rocks and the steep mountains of green rice fields lining the edges. Just look at how far we've come already."

"Wow. It's beautiful. And we really have come far," she said with a reluctant grace.

"Still want to be back home on the couch?"

She silently picked up her backpack, slung it once again over her shoulder and charged onward sprinting up the next hill.

"Catch me if you can," she yelled back charging up the path with a deviant smile.

After a delicious carbohydrate-rich lunch at a dilapidated restaurant in one of the tiny towns, we kicked our aching legs back in gear and into the full onslaught of the monsoon as it had begun to rain. We hiked silently for hours through the rain when it then became a torrential downpour and we ducked into a small run-down hut for tea. We rubbed each other's sore feet and drank our tea quietly wondering what we had gotten ourselves into. The rain slowed after an hour and we put our socks back on, threw some tobacco into our boots to ward off the leaches and dragged ourselves back to the trail.

The path was, however, now muddy and extremely slippery, which in addition to the arduous footing was a signal for the leaches to spring forth. To escape the dreaded beasts, we quickened the pace, slipping and sliding down much of the treacherous track until we finally arrived in the cover of darkness at the small town of Tolka. We found a small lodge to stay and threw our packs down in the corner, and lit the kerosene lamp.

"I'll check you first," I said to Bren.

"But let's step outside, so they're aren't crawling around in here if we find any."

"Okay...but let me have it straight, Bri," she replied taking off her coat.

"Close your eyes and no matter what don't open them. If there are any on you, just stay calm and don't move."

"God, this is horrible. It's giving me the creeps already."

I grabbed the salt as Bren removed her first layer of shirts and tepidly asked, "See anything?"

"No, you’re good...so far."

She pulled her final shirt up over her shoulders and in the dim light I could see dark little shadows on her back and neck.

I lifted the lamp where I could see plainly the dreaded, dark shadows sucking away at Bren's blood.

"Well?"

I took a deep breath.

"Well?" she repeated, "You found one, didn't you?"

I stood staring in the soft flickering glow of the kerosene lamp at the small beasts covering the width of her back. I lifted her hair, and found two more, and another in her ear.

"Bren I'm not going to lie to ya, there's a couple here. But just stay calm--"

"Oh God, oh God," she instantly cried out, and as she danced around in circle she began screaming, "Get 'em off, get 'em off!"

"C'mon babe, stand still," I said grabbing her arms, "I can't get 'em off, if I can't see them."

She continued running around panicked, brushing her hands over her body, "There all over me, help, help!"

"Stop it!" I yelled grabbing her arms and shaking her, "They don't hurt, and you’re going to pull them off, and you'll be bleeding all over the place."

"I don't care, I want them off, get them off, Bri," she kept yelling, "Get them off!"

I held her by the waist and began pouring the salt all over her back. Most began dropping onto the ground below.

"Are they off, are they off? I can't stand still much longer," she said jumping up and down in the same spot, "C'mon, Bri, hurry."

"I'm hurrying, babe, goin' as fast as I can," I said reaching for the lighter to get the remainder off.

"Go faster, I can't take it!"

"Okay that's the final one," I said digging in and pulling the last from her ear.

"Look at 'em all," Bren said looking at the ground and kicking them away from us, "God, they're nasty! Look how fat they are, and all from me!"

"They must have gotten on you when you fell, remember?"

"Yeah, I can't believe they could get on you that quick. It's amazing!"

"Let me check you, turn around," she said checking my body, "You gotta few on your legs," she said relieved that she wasn't the only one.

We ate a quick dinner at the lodge, and immediately bolted for bed exhausted.

"I can still feel them on me," Bren declared, as we laid in the darkness of our musty, cold room wrapped tightly in our sleeping bags.

"I'm proud of you, babe, you did really well with that whole thing. Who would ever thought you'd be trekking around in the Himalayas with leaches all over your back."

"Yeah, that's for sure. How far did we hike today?"

"About eight hours of solid hiking, not counting breaks."

"Wow. We're going to have to pick up the pace even more, huh?"

"Yep."

"I don't know, Bri, this has been really tough, I'm sore already. I can only imagine what it will feel like in the morning."

"I know, me too. I have this strange feeling though, that it's going to be spectacular at the top. Something unusual."

"Oh, another one of your Bali feelings?"

"Yeah. Sounds corny, I know."

"Nothing is corny anymore, I don't think the word even exists."

"I know, but it's still strange."

We laid together in the silence, still, exhausted, aching.

"Strange maybe, but I believe you, Bri. You make me feel as if we can do this. You give me hope that this isn't so crazy and maybe it's not impossible afterall."

"But I believe, I believe in you," she faintly whispered under her breath as she drifted asleep.

***************

Silent whiteness called us from our slumber through the gray mist of the monsoon, as we woke to the chill of the night air and the stench from our aching bodies. It was a sleep my body desperately wanted to resume. I pushed hard to psych my muscles into moving, and rolled out from beneath the sleeping bag where I put on the same shorts and T-shirt and my crusty, damp boots. After breakfast, we moved on into the thick cloud of mist that enshrouded the valley.

There was no sign of the mountains.

Many of the other trekkers we've passed either have a porter or a guide or both, but we've made solid progress without them. In fact, we have enjoyed the independence. One of the more striking aspects about trekking is the impact it has on the environment, especially here in a third-world country. As a westerner, it's difficult to fathom just how greatly we contribute to the destruction of these countries; so, we have become serious about reducing our impact. They simply don't have the resources to counteract the destruction, so it's incumbent upon us as trekkers to minimize the effect on their ecosystem. For instance, Nepal does not have the resources to dispose of plastic, so continuously buying bottled water contributes significantly to the waste pollution problem already endemic to this area. Just in our second day trekking we've seen fellow trekkers throwing empty plastic containers into the woods, urinating into streams contaminating the water source, and carelessly leaving toilet paper in their squatting spot instead of burning it. These are problems I never considered before this trip, and once again, I'm struck deeply by the way the majority of the world lives. It's something I cannot understand—how we callously ravage the environment, especially here, after walking through Kathmandu and seeing how most of these people live (for the average Nepalese makes $175 in a year). I watch it occur in this pristine land, and I shutter to think just how anyone could "take" any more from these people and their earth. I feel a sense of my soul lost, forlorn within this wilderness of pain, helpless, hopeless, for what can I say as only a couple months ago, prior to Australia, I may have done the same thing.

I fall limp to the ground, on a step that is the beginning of the long final ascent into Chomrong, the gateway to the Annapurna Sanctuary. It's the last stop before the serious, steep climb into the heart of the Himalayas. Bren then collapses next to me, and I cry out in agony, "I can go no further." I slouch further on the step, hungry, emotionally sapped, while my body moils in stinging pain. I close my eyes, rest my listless head on the closest rock, as the overwhelming smell of sweat, dirt and my body’s natural odors, fill my lungs. I can taste this moment, as I’ve been brought to my knees and I beg to be mysteriously transported to a bed in the next town forever foregoing this last upward climb. The blackness grips me and exhaustion strangles off any hope of thought, my body is mesmerized by the pain, and my spirit is sapped by the crushing reality that we have further to go. In the surreal underbelly of this realm, my soul emerges from beneath my skin and speaks.

As an American, living in the land of blissful abundance, do you feel yourself stealing from the land, from this world, at the expense of these precious souls? At least your abundance should meet their shortage, let alone not impinge upon an already impoverished land. I ask you: Are you the Midnight phantom waiting to steal time from the Persian night; are you merely the destruction in paradise feasting upon the vanity of your birthplace? Can’t you remember the plight of the Native American and how YOU raped their culture, their heart, and smothered their lives. Is this the spirit of America, your home? Is this your spirit? Are they hopelessly intertwined? Who are you but this?

My brain awoke and I thought somberly: Certainly, it’s part of my ancestry, part of me, but is this me—am I, as my soul portends, the red wolf dancing ignorantly in its own blood, howling into a silent wind?

I now see those little boys’ faces, their smiles light up within me and yet I see the pain of their misfortune, the poverty in their color-faded eyes. I see the path before me winding through the thick misty fog up to the top of this earth. I hear the "partners" calling me, telling me to back down from this path, it’s impossible, that I’m not pure enough for this quest and surely I will die in defeat. I feel nature, all around me, taunting me, reflecting my weaknesses and profound imperfections. I feel Bren’s eyes gazing intensely upon my back, as the fingers of doubt massage her solar plexus of faith. These forces crash violently within me, twisting their knifing tentacles into my supple skin and devouring the spirit of eternal promise. Maybe Bren was right, this is impossible—for who am I but an audacious bully riding the surfer’s wave to the golden sands within my own eggshell brain.

Here however, there are no golden sands for these innocent souls, and yet my, possibly all of humanity’s, evolutionary flow is dependent upon them—these souls. Simply, the faith I seek is within the air I now breathe, I feel its allure, and yet my soul beseeches this hardened truth, "What will you give up for it?"

I lay on the cold step, drained, and physically in more pain than I’ve ever experienced, and yet the final mountainous climb still awaits. Reality strikes hard, and a tear swells around the soft tissue of my eyes, while my insides shake from the doubt, the fear, and the sheer unworthiness of being alive in this world. I see the penniless old man in the streets of Kathmandu, he holds a bottle of water in his hand and he offers it to me. Somehow he knows me, he sees more of me than I do, and still he offers it. I stare at the water bottle through the blackness that now consumes my mind, and it pierces this aching agony for I cannot turn away from the gift he has bestowed upon me. And suddenly, like a flash, I knew my answer. I would give up the bottle of water, the sacred amulet. I stood up from the step, I looked upward to the sky and then the massive mountain before me, and I consciously told my right leg to move, then my left, until I was walking again upward.

Yes, that water was for me, but it was not mine. I was to take it, absorb its precious contents until I "understood" and feel its potent life force, but then I was to pass it along to another. This palladium is not to be possessed, but cherished, understood and freely given to another. Is this the key to our spiritual evolution? Was "Jim" in the haunted hotel correct, did our spiritual survival depend on it? Personally, I could never again turn my back, for I was chosen by that old man to pass this gift along, and so I must carry its golden burden upon my soul until I can "share" it with another. Then, they will be chosen; that is, until we all are chosen.

I took Bren’s bag and carried both rucksacks now filled with this newfound strength. It began to drizzle as we labored up the steps, literally crawling at times. My visual senses were overwhelmed with fatigue therefore allowing the smells of this place to sweep through my blank mind: the mossy rocks, the fresh rain, and the wild flowers. It was virulent whiff of life, one so unique and free, and it was this, the smell, which kept me going throbbing step after throbbing step.

At the close of the day, we scratched with our remaining vestiges of strength into the mile-high village of Chomrong. We received our room, rolled out our sleeping bags, on the verge of collapse when Bren screamed out, "What's that on your shorts?"

I looked down at my crouch to a smattering of red, "I don't know--"

"It's blood!" Bren cried out.

I was reluctant to think so, but as I dropped my shorts and saw the circle of red on the middle of my boxers, I knew it was blood. My heart skipped a beat as Bren yelled, "Leaches in your britches!"

They didn't bother me the day before but now I couldn't remove my boxers...I couldn't face one of them drawing blood from such a private area.

"C’mon Bri, take 'em off. You have to--"

"You do it, I can't look."

Bren approached and with a quick yank, brought the boxers to my ankles. I seemed strangled by the thought, and I couldn't breathe paralyzed with fear.

"One was certainly there 'cause you've got dried blood everywhere. It’s all over the place...actually, it looks like there was more than one--" Bren said chuckling.

"Well, do you see any on me...God help me, if you have to burn one off--"

"No, they must have fallen off--"

"Yeah, after getting their fill!"

Bren busted out laughing.

"Well, let’s just say I had an epiphany back on that mountain, and that was my way of giving back to the land, I guess…"

***************

Over the next two days we trekked hard through the freezing rain and bitter cold to Machhapuchhre Base Camp, the camp just below our goal of Annapurna Base Camp ("ABC"). We had pushed ourselves to the limit but we were now a day ahead of schedule to return in nine days. We've borne the full force of the monsoon by trekking through cold rains and a perpetual fog everyday, and indeed, in the four days since leaving Pokhara we have yet to catch even a glimpse of the Annapurna Range. Now we were amongst them, but the altitude and monsoon proved to be a wicked combination causing the entire area to be immersed in an impenetrable cloud of gray mist. The temperature had dropped severely, it was freezing, damp and after four days of merciless hiking here we sat in utter misery at the base of mountains we have yet to see.

We removed our wet, cold clothes and joined a few of the others in a small common room of the hut in base camp. With no heat, we all sat around in the cold, damp room trying to entertain ourselves. The local who ran the small place, had a portable battery-operated radio that carried a news program in English. So as a group, we huddled around the radio listening intently so as to keep our minds from thinking about the cold. The lead story was that Princess Di had been killed and with the incredible news, an emotional wall tumbled down and rippled through the group. No one believed it, least of all the two Brits next to us. It was hard for any of us to fathom, so far from any sign of civilization, three days from the nearest road, no electricity, in the freezing cold, sore and aching. Yet it was a daunting reminder of just how short, how precious, life really is. It was in the same report that we discovered that Mother Theresa was gravely ill. Another wall caved in, and I thought about her, a guiding Angel sent to earth. What drove her to sacrifice her entire life for the betterment of humanity? I just don’t understand it, why haven’t more of us followed in her inspirational footsteps? What was her inspiration, faith in humanity, faith in herself, an intense compassion for us, a deep sorrow for the world? What was her light?

The next news story was about Israel and the PLO. As a result of a recent bombing in Jerusalem, which Israel blamed on the PLO, the Israeli Prime Minister had cut off their payments to Palestine. The four Israelis in the group stared hard at Bren and me. The icy stares continued for well over an hour, when one finally spoke, "You Americans can't keep your noses out of it, can you?"

I sat perplexed. The statement almost didn't seem real; I couldn't believe that an Israeli, of all the countries in the world, would feel that way.

"Why do you say that?" I genuinely inquired.

"Ultimately, your country is fucking responsible for the deaths of my people."

"What? How can you possibly say that--" I said fully taken back.

"We'll be forced by America to pay those bastards once again," he vehemently spouted.

"Well, you're basically starving them out. Your Prime Minister knows they have no other form of income, their people will starve..."

"Fuck 'em, they blew up my people! They aren't really people anyway."

"My God, how can you say that?"

"It's something you can't understand," he said violently beating his fist on the table, "It's something your government can't understand, what it is to live in fear..." he said drifting off in thought.

The others around the room just watched in silence, no one dared speak.

"I'm not going to say that I understand any of it, but I just don't see how starving a group of people is a humane or even an effective way to prevent a few radicals in the group from doing the same thing. In fact, I think it would make it worse."

"Whatever...America is the big problem here! You and your shitty politics are always creating these situations. If you'd just keep out of it, these situations would be resolved."

"Somehow I don't believe that, and there's something called history that backs me up on that one--"

"You know nothing of our plight? God, what an asshole you are!" he exploded.

"So let me get this straight, you believe that the state of Israel would be better off without a single iota of American intervention, financial or otherwise?"

"Fuck yes. Get out I say. Right?" he said to the other three Israeli guys, who ardently nodded their heads in affirmation.

"Maybe you're right, but I don't see how any of this has to with America forcing your country to make those payments, because you know what...it's not just America, it's many other countries who would feel the same. It doesn't matter that it's Israel either; I think that any inhumane action would have brought the wrath of the world down on any country. At least I would hope so..."

"You really are an asshole. You Americans wouldn't know anything about being humane. You don’t know what it’s like to live in fear. You don't live in the real world!"

"Maybe we don't, I'm with you on that one, but at least we try to live together, sometimes it's not in harmony, but at least we try--"

He roared with laughter, "Yeah right, America doesn't get involved unless it has a financial stake in the matter. Look at the Gulf War...what a joke!"

"I agree that the Gulf war had nothing to do with saving the people of Kuwait, I realize that it was completely about oil, about money, about preserving America's stake."

"Whoa, finally an American sees the truth."

"Yeah, and actually speaks it," another of his friends added.

"Yeah, I say it but it's not something I'm proud of as an American. Let me ask you, don't you feel like your looking a gift horse in the mouth? Weren’t we over there protecting Israel and their interests as well?"

"Well, if the United States of a America happens to give us a gift then it's the Trojan Horse," he fired back.

"C'mon, you think America is trying to take over Israel?"

"No, just control it, like everything else..." he said spitting on the floor to emphasize further his point.

"You guys are real arrogant pricks," I said leaning across the table at the four of them, "America isn't perfect by any stretch, and we do dictate terms to rest of the world, fairly or unfairly, but the same could be said about you and your country. The difference between us, though, is were not running around blaming others for our problems."

They stood up, throwing back their chairs, and drove straight at me when the Brits finally intervened and served as mediators in calming the situation to a slow simmer.

"Bri, I'd rather go back and freeze in the room than listen to another person bash America. I'm so sick of it!"

"You read my mind, let's go."

We silently made our way back to our cramped, cold room unfolded our sleeping bags and crawled in fully clothed desperately trying to keep warm.

"I can't believe that, I really can't, I’m really pissed off about this bullshit!" I said to Bren my breath filling the air before me with every word.

"Forget about it, Bri, that's the best thing to do...no matter how many times you tell people, we aren't our government, they still blame us...it's pointless."

"But maybe we are our government, aren’t we supposed to be in a democracy? Isn’t this our responsibility? Anyway, I can't let it go…I just find it hard to believe those guys represent the views of the people of Israel, but it goes to show just how deep the animosity goes toward America."

"I think those guys were just assholes, and I don't care what country they were from..."

"Yeah, but it does serve as another example as to just how important the United States is to the rest of the world. I mean, I can see their overall point, even though I still don't see how it was applicable to the current PLO situation. I mean, we are the centerpiece to the entire planet right now, and instead of helping to unite the world, instead of setting the example, we always think of our financial benefit first. If it coordinates with a humane effort like in the Gulf War, so much the better, but if it doesn't, oh well. How can that be respected? Even as an American, I know that it cannot."

"I know, I don't like the direction we are headed either...but I'm just not so sure I'm grateful to you for pointing it out to me. It's always such a struggle viewing the world and America's place in it. I almost wish I didn't see it, or I didn't know about it, so I could go back the way it was," Bren said somberly.

"I know. Your innocence has been stripped, the ignorance bared. It's difficult dealing with the truth. Believe me, I know. I remember that lonely night in Cairns, I felt like crying and crying in the corner of our hostel room. God, I remember vividly, like it was yesterday, that reverberating feeling of being alone facing the truth. Yet, we both know now that such is the struggle of personal growth."

"I feel like that now. Filled with the pain of our country’s direction, filled with the angry from people always bashing us, and all while we try to discover ourselves. I'm so sleepy, I just want to close my eyes."

"It's okay baby," I said rubbing her forehead, "Tomorrow's another day, we'll just keep facing it, we'll keep fighting. We'll never give up, and just think, tomorrow we reach the top."

***************

Early the following morning, we hiked through the gray mist and fog to the Annapurna Base Camp. We stood in the camp a day earlier than scheduled, and now we had an extra day to make it back down. Even though we couldn't see anything but a blanket of thick wall of gray haze, a sincere sense of accomplishment glowed brightly on our faces. It was refreshing to hear that most of the others took much longer, some over a week. In total, there was about twelve of us in "ABC," but only half were in our particular camp. We sat around the common room telling travel stories and anecdotes to pass the time, and each of us held out hope that it would be clear the following morning, that our reward for the pain and effort would burst forth and shine throughout the valley. Bren then explained my persistent Bali-like "feeling" about the monsoon lifting and excitedly proclaimed that the sky would be clear all around us.

Yet the next morning we all woke to the dreary rain and pervasive gray mist that’s been with us every day since leaving Pokhara. For the first time, though, we could see the range of mountains surrounding us through the light mist; they were just faint outlines of the majesty, which we knew engulfed us. For everyone else on the mountaintop, this brief glimpse was enough...the freezing temperatures, the damp rain, the lack of food, and most importantly, the lack of proper clothing were enough to sway them all to descend. I sat on the step of our small room staring at the opaque wall of gray, completely bewildered however. I didn't know what happened. After the "feelings" in Bali and as impossible as it seemed, I fully expected the monsoon to go into remission.

"It's okay, babe," Bren said rubbing my shoulders.

"Maybe it's because we got here a day early--" I said desperately searching for an explanation.

"We still saw the mountains, Bri--"

"C'mon, babe, we could see the faint outline of them. That's not what I was talking about. That's not what I felt!"

"The old man who stays up here says that's how it always looks when it does clear in the morning, it's always like this during the monsoon. That’s the most we could expect."

"I don't know what happened," I said clearly befuddled, "I'm so embarrassed for having anything said to the others now."

No one stayed. I couldn't ask Bren to stay another day. It meant another day enduring the elements completely ill prepared, and with nothing to do but wait, and then to hike ourselves into submission in order to get back down in time. I knew that it was too much to ask her to stay based on some whimsical feeling I had. So we also left.

We packed and began to descend from "ABC" along with the others. I couldn't shake the plaguing feeling of gloom however. It consumed me. I tried to fight it off, but I couldn't. It was my somber reality, and I felt tricked, deceived by something I couldn’t see or understand. I felt ungrounded, and the doubt within me grew because of the sheer illogical "feeling tricked by something I couldn’t comprehend or explain." I just couldn't accept the failure of my "feeling," it subverted the entire experience, our trekking triumph. I began to doubt the "underlying pattern" and my place in it; maybe it was a fantasy designed by my subconscious merely to deal with the freaky chaos within this planetary madness.

Then, Bren suddenly stopped.

"Bri, how long do you think it will take us to get back down?"

"Probably, three hard days or four casual days. It's our choice really."

"So, you think we can make it back in three?"

"Yeah."

"Well, do you still have the feeling?"

"Yes. Absolutely!"

She looked me intensely in the eye and in a deep-exalted breath said, "I have faith in what you feel...I really do."

"So?"

"So, maybe we did get here a day early, let's go back."

"Get outta here. Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I've thought about it, I trust in your ability to understand yourself, and I trust you. I know if you believe that it will come to be...it will."

I jumped across the path, picked her up and swung her around in a circle.

"Let's go, Bri," she said with a short laugh, "Let's get back up there before I change my mind..."

***************

I opened my eyes the following morning, peering cautiously from the small opening in my sleeping bag and through the small window. I saw a remarkable clear bright blueness piercing the dirty rag thrown in the small window. I continue to lay in a silent daze. In an instant of realization, however, I frantically sprung from the entanglement of the sleeping bag, yelling and screaming, "Get up, get up!"

I violently shook Bren's sleeping bag, "It's clear, the sky is blue...hurry, it's unbelievable."

I ran out the door and found myself completely surrounded 360 degrees by the highest mountains on the planet. The brilliant deep blue dome hung over the towering peaks, without a cloud in the sky. The sun glimmered off the snow-capped peaks, the deep lush green gripped the belly of each mountain, where waterfalls lined its walls. Simply, it was a revelation. It was a sight of the purest majesty for the Garden had been revealed. I bowed to her profound glory, her purity and virtue. I embraced Bren as we stood in awe, it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen, and it was without a doubt, the most spiritual feeling I had ever experienced.

"You very lucky," the old man who had come out his small hut said to us.

"Yes. We are very lucky," I returned.

"Never like this in monsoon," he said looking all around at the mountains in disbelief.

"It's so beautiful," Bren said to him.

He smiled softly at us and nodded his head. Bren then rose up on her toes and kissed me softly on the cheek. Her eyes glowed, her smile radiated through the valley, and my spirit soared in this magical vision of Shangri-La.

"I think I'm going to climb that small mountain," I said to Bren, "Wanna come?"

"No, babe, this moment's all yours. Go ahead."

I darted off in pursuit of my mountain. I climbed up another thousand feet straight up from the base camp and found a giant boulder at the top. I sat breathing deeply from the climb and altitude, and took in the highest points on our planet. I was sitting on the cold frozen boulder nearly 3 miles above sea level. I was sitting higher than any point in the continental United States. Yes, I was looking down upon the world, and I was one step closer to the heavens.

The sun was rising behind the mountains creating a golden hue on the eastern most mountains—Annapurna I and Annapurna South. No one else was around; no sounds, silence as I could almost hear the massive golden orb creeping over the mountains surrounding me. I knew as I watched the sun reaching its arms into the sky that my life had once again changed. I sighed deeply as I looked at these magical mountains that encircled me, and I thought of the decision to stay as tears rolled down my cheeks. I had hoisted its heavy burden upon my back. I had climbed the climb. I had cried straight from the heart. And I now held its essence in my outstretched palm. I knew what I so desperately had sought, I knew what had driven me upon this journey, I had finally found; I had found faith.

I knew in that moment what it was to have "faith," and I knew in that moment what it was for someone to have faith in you no matter how wildly crazy the feeling or belief. To wholly cast away your most intimate and personal fears requires much more than mere hope, a wish, or even prayer; no, it requires: love, understanding, trust and respect, it requires all that is FAITH. Bren showed me this, for mere hope wouldn't have kept us on that mountain one more day, only faith had that awesome power. In that decision to stay, to endure the freezing cold, the rain, the lack of food, this asylum of idleness, all for my "feeling," my belief, was simply the embodiment of "faith." She flew directly into the face of logic, and she went against every bone in her body that told her to avoid another night on this miserable, isolated spot that endlessly tortured the mind. She went against it, all in the spirit of faith.

As I sat on that boulder, shivering in the cold, and I knew for me that the sheer beauty of this place would never be surpassed. It was more than just pleasing to the eye, it soothed the soul, it placated the mind, and wrapped you in the warmth of its glow. It helped crush the lethal pitchfork of doubt that lies deep inside us all. I believed in the "feeling," I truly had faith it would come to be. Somehow, I knew it would. As another tear dropped from my eye, I knew that the sheer beauty I was witnessing wouldn't be if Bren didn't have faith; if I didn't have faith. Together, we scaled the wall of apprehension, of uncertainty, which grips each of us in our daily lives. All that strangles the spirituality and faith from our being, that which sucks the life from our spirits.

For me personally, I know that to do this I had to break down the barriers of the inner self. I had to battle through my society’s programming, I had to confront those "corrosive toxins" and realize that within this struggle was the journey. The path was the goal. That's what the Tioman monk so deftly imparted to me. You must have the passion to seek it, to understand it, but most importantly, to trust it...to have faith in that which you have otherwise doubted your entire life. You must embrace life instead of fighting it; that is, to trust in the "underlying pattern of the universe." I thought of the other monk in Bangkok when he said, "Sometimes what you seek is never found, but wisdom is realizing the search itself is something found, it's fulfillment of the being." I can't help but think that ancillary to that is, "What you fail to seek, you shall never find." I sought this faith, I sought it out with a passion I’ve rarely expressed in my short life, and now as I sit literally atop of the world, I have found it. I hold its precious vivacious spirit in my closed grip, it absorbs into my skin and I now feel its pervasive glow sparkling within every cell. I feel faith.

I climbed back down to the base camp where Bren and I found a spot in the dewy grass and wild flowers where we basked in the glow of the warm sun emerging from behind the towering mountains. "Thanks, Bren," I offered as I placed my arm around her.

"You've found it, haven't you?"

"Yep, I think I did, babe."

"I can see it in your eyes. Your sunbursts are back!"

I squeezed her tight, and every ounce of love in me seemed to burst forth, love that was deep inside, the love which had been blackened from my ravaging past, the love that had been tainted, sprung forth afresh. Yes, the love I struggled to find and understand in New Zealand came bursting through in glorious bloom. The buds had opened up and a flower of love, of hope, of all that is the essence of being human, finally blossomed. I was bursting with it all and I shared it with Bren in that moment. I gave her everything that was me in those fragile seconds.

"What was it that made you stay?" I asked her as we continued to soak up the view with inspired awe.

"You really don't know?" Bren asked peering out of the corner of her eye, smiling.

"I mean did you really believe, really believe that this would happen today?"

"Yes, I really did."

"You had that much faith--"

"Yes."

Silence.

"But don't you understand," Bren continued, "I believed because you believed."

I paused, I looked around the towering mountains surrounding us, and I absorbed her ringing "truth."

There it was; there was Mary Matthews' faith. I sat stunned, speechless, almost helpless in her arms. Tears again swelled but I refused to cry. The long, arduous, confusing trek was over, and I had found it. I understood it. And, ironically, the power emanated from me; the source of her "faith" was inside me the entire time. Mary, John at the Pemberton Tree, those Monks, floated through my mind, for I now understood, I knew why it was that they trusted so deeply, why they possessed this faith. I understood how it so easily flowed from their lips and how difficult it was for me to accept. I looked around one final time completely enraptured by the beauty, the majesty, the emotion of this sanctuary, and I knew that it was a place lost souls pilgrimage to regain the beating of their heart. It was heaven on earth. It was this magical place, with my legs literally dangling from the top of the world, that I discovered the essence of faith.

***************

As we hiked back down through the valley from our sanctuary alight of foot, I was consumed with the discovery of Mary Matthews' faith. It has been an ongoing search for more than three years, and one that ended almost as dramatically as it began, with the thought that I didn't understand what might be the cornerstone of humanity. Could it be that faith is the building block upon which everything else is created...even beginning with "God"? Did He have faith in our existence, in us, or did He merely create us as an experiment? It's an answer I will never know during my lifetime here on earth, but the lessons I've learned personally, certainly lean toward him having faith in us, faith to find ourselves, faith that we'll do more with the gift of life than just exist.

I couldn't help but wonder if there could be a larger, more important question, each of us could answer in our short lifetimes? Faith permeates each of our lives, whether we choose to find it and embrace it is our choice, and our choice alone. It is one of the most profound choices we make as human beings, and has one of the most significant impacts on the value of our existence. It defines us beyond the physical; it provides "significance" to our being. It brings something from beyond, from the place within our indestructible purity, our souls, and regenerates it in this material world. And simply, it is our bond. It is humanity’s bond.

It all begins on a deeply personal level as I have discovered, and only then can it be shared with another; eventually through the bonds of marriage, family and eventually downward toward others. It becomes, therefore, the intricately woven fabric binding of our society. As we have seen so clearly, it is the intricate woven fabric binding the entire world, in essence, the basis for binding humanity. It is a precious piece of our planetary evolution. We have observed that the cultures with the most faith, have been the happiest, the most content with life. I know as a result, that with faith, you will overcome and endure; you are provided a channel to express love, which is the truest basis for happiness. Without it, however, you will hopelessly wilt and your life fails to have significant meaning. Indeed, without faith, you merely exist on this earth.

What exactly is faith however? I know today that faith is not having just a strong conviction, a blind belief, or a wish that things will turn out as you desire. Rather, there are two prominent aspects to this faith. One is faith in the "pattern" built within earth, within us, trusting the unseen force from beyond, and the second is faith between us as souls and as human beings. These two forces roll together intertwined like strands of DNA, and like our basic physical composition, create a force within this world and beyond that is our basic spiritual composition. The first aspect of faith is attained by actually releasing control and accepting the path of consequence chosen by fate, it’s trusting in the "underlying pattern of the universe." It’s trusting in what cannot be seen, touched, or completely understood—trusting that force within us and in earth. The second aspect is necessary for we still need others to help us fulfill our trust, to assist us in letting go, to let the wheel of fate spin freely. Why? Because it’s just too much to ask in today’s often hostile climate to trust, to have faith in everyone. So, finding a person who has a chance of actually fulfilling your faith becomes critical, possibly imperative, to the "significance" of our existence. To this end, by finding someone who will indeed accept responsibility for others, beyond their personal stake in the situation, makes this crucial jump of faith much easier. Sustaining faith, especially in our present-day world, is beyond the ability and strength of one person. We can’t do it alone.

I thought back to Bali, when I was dancing in the rain and confronting that inner being I was afraid of at the Grand Canyon, and I saw a glimpse into the person I was—chasing the thieves, helping the old man in the street, and the motorbike crash. We must understand that we have an inherent responsibility to one another, to selflessly give back, to reach out even when we have nothing to gain. Mary saw this, she realized at some point that I would step beyond the parameters of my immediate responsibility to give back. Even though I didn’t know it myself, she did. Indeed, I know from the moment I set eyes upon her that I did care, and it had nothing to do with her legal case. This, this was a bond of humanity, and it was the basis of her faith in me, in all of us. You see, faith in one is faith in all. It is our building block to our future, our spiritual evolution.

I realize now that to Mary, it wasn't winning or losing the battle, as much as it was how the battle was fought. She knew that I believed in her, that I believed in the battle, that I believed in right over wrong, and that I would fight with everything I had to tilt the scales of justice in her favor. But it was the element of fighting this battle as a human being, rather than as a lawyer that intrigued her, that drew me to her. She understood that winning or losing meant the path of her life would be altered, but it was how the battle was fought that would change who she was, and give it meaning beyond the lawsuit. She picked me over the others because I had the passion to fulfill this vision. I truly cared. In the end, the money and winning were immaterial; rather, it was carrying the torch of her faith in the cause, fighting for what was "right." When I think back about my shining moment of achievement, I don't think about the money or even winning, I think about the smile on her face and her words as she embraced me, "I knew you could do it. Thanks for sustaining my faith, Brian. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

I didn't know what those words meant then, I thought she was just being overly dramatic in a time of our glowing accomplishment. I don't anymore however. I know her words were true. There comes a time in each of our lives where we will search for this faith, and that search will lead us inevitably to another, where we become dependent upon that person to help us find it, to fulfill it. Yes, again, faith requires not only that one accepts responsibility beyond his or her stake, but also it requires that someone support that faith—just as Bren did for me at the Sanctuary. That was what the lawsuit was for Mary—depending on me to fulfill her faith. She chose me for that endeavor, not just as her lawyer, but also as a human being. That's what this trek became for me—a trek of faith. It's a trek we all must make, one to discover our significance, our place in the world. I look at the expanse of the massive valley unfolding before me, and I know now that after thirty years upon this precarious rock, I have found mine. I looked up for the final time within the Sanctuary, at the top of the world, and I feel those ubiquitous "partners" fading, their image unrecognizable and their hold loosening, and with a deep exalting breath, I finally exhaled their enticing grip.

***************

Just as the trek was destined, so was it that we'd complete it within the nine days. We pushed hard, hiking twelve hours the next two days giving us an easy final day's hike back into Pokhara. We walked back into our hotel room spent, exhausted physically, emotionally, and psychologically. It was the hardest physical and mental experience of our lives, and it challenged the essence of ourselves. It broke us down to our barest, inner most being. We saw and felt this veil removed, we touched the deepest reaches of our souls. We experienced the purest part of ourselves, a part most people rarely even glimpse within. I know now that it obviously wasn't an impossible task, for we did it. But it was confronting what was perceived to be impossible, the unknown, and that is what I am most proud of—our stern confrontation with the unknown. We looked it dead in the eye, and fought it each day knowing fully what was at risk. We fought the elements, the leaches, the pain, the fear, and we fought our inner selves, we fought doubt. We took control of those "corrosive toxins" and purged our beings from these eminently destructive forces. From beginning to end, we denuded ourselves to reveal our true character, we threw away any doubt and discovered along the way that together we thrived.

It has brought a flicker of light to our consciousness, to conquer those corrosive toxins. To become "aware" is to not only feel a deepened sense of responsibility to the world, but also to no longer need to avoid different area’s of expression in our lives. Without this oppressive fear lingering within our being we are able to "see" the "underlying pattern of the universe" freely weaving its delicate ribbon through our life. I understand now that the key ingredient in this provocative equation is faith, for once you allow it into your soul, you are able to let go, let go of the material attachments which we perceive help us deal with our pervasive fears. We can remove the hardened plastic masks. In essence, once we let go and have faith, we are actually only then in "control," and this then exposes our true "direction" in life. Is this our "destiny," this force within the underlying pattern, built into each of us, built into this earth?

With this basic understanding, the process is clear. The spirit must first seek the truth, the mind must envision the truth, and then it must build upon it using the disciplined free will of the body. Our personal growth, therefore, hinges upon the application of this truth, by bringing the spiritual into the material. By having faith and trusting in the underlying pattern, we are freed from the shackles of this material world, and therefore, as we build this condition in the mind and build upon this truth, this ideal, we bring the creative forces within our souls into the material world—this world. Yes, that’s what nature offers us as human beings, a reflection of that infinite force that exists within ourselves, and most importantly, that’s precisely why it’s so painful, so manifestly difficult to observe, because our spirit recognizes our insufficiencies, our daft inability to "see" this basic concept within a harmonic universe. So, in witnessing this "golden intent" from nature, this selflessness, we can defeat the Darwinian Human and reverse the process; that is, instead of bringing the material world into the spiritual, we can then bring the spiritual into the material. In doing so, we give back to the universe; we become a part of its resounding opus, instead of incessant taking, instead of stripping its divine purity.

As this Nepal has palpably demonstrated, the gut-wrenching torture of merely observing the blatant inequities within this world, can devastate one’s inner spirit for a rolling avalanche of unworthiness smothers all else. However, with faith, in myself, in others, in this underlying pattern, I sense a higher purpose to this plane of reality, one I don’t understand but trust. The "golden intent," selflessly giving back, helps us to combat this pervasive feeling of helplessness and unworthiness that naturally arises from the gross inequities of our tiny orb. The Nepalese boys smile, the poor old man offering me water bows, they glow of a white purity in my mind now, the light of consciousness beams openly through the dense fog of this world. They are truth, and I feel a hardened sense of the agapē, the mojo, within me as it is a piece of them, for the mojo is not just within us but a connecting bond from that agapē, that purity of love. This is the basis of our human interconnectedness, our oneness. Even more, I now not only feel the interconnectedness with earth, as in Oz, but my place within it. 

I see the old man in Penang, Malaysia, slouching in the corner begging for food, and I remember turning my back to the horror within myself. But now, I see myself within him.  We share that street corner in my spirit, and that the anguish and suffering is part of this existence, I know it, and for the first time I can boldly face the reflective gaze of the walls of the Grand Canyon. As I think back, I know now that the journey to ABC was transcendent trek inward to connect my spirit with another realm of consciousness, within it I found the light within Mother Nature’s eyes, the creative force that lives within the stranger that once was—me. It lifts my soul physically, it vibrates a soft melody to it, and I feel again that moment precipitating our “fall,” that bite of the apple, I feel all those moments that brought us to this fragile moment in time, and now I feel those souls I have met along my personal journey, they are all together with me, because I am a part of it all.

Literally, their blood flows with mine, and we are One.

As drained as we were, the adrenaline of fulfilling our quest consumed us and we had to celebrate. We took our first showers in eight days and put on fresh clean clothes—it felt like it was our first day of school and we were donning our new digs for the first time. As we walked through town, it was as if a divine hand reached down and twisted fate one more time, for we ran into, one by one, every single person who was on the mountain with us at ABC and decided to leave. One by one they then told us how that next day after leaving the mountain when the monsoon briefly lifted they thought of my strange “feeling.” Even the Israelis approached us taken with the fulfillment of the prophesied “feeling.” Bren and I both could see it clearly just how much it bothered each of them that they didn't stay. It was a splinter under their nails, for they knew they didn't trust, they didn't believe. Each one reluctantly asked how it was, what it looked like, what it felt to see those mountains uncovered, bare. They understood it was an opportunity forever lost. I know that at least a small piece of faith was imparted to them, however, and maybe, just maybe, the next time such an opportunity exists they'll trust that person, or even themselves. Faith is something that binds us all, and when you trust it, it can be one of the most precious moments one can experience as a human being. I now know that first hand.

Bren and I wandered to an isolated spot on the edge of a lake just outside of town. We sat looking over the calm, black lake to the gracious mountains of the Annapurna Range, the ones that only a few days ago we were smack in the heart of. I stared in awe at our achievement.

“Can you believe it, we did it! We did it!” Bren cried out, her proud voice echoing over the placid lake, through our mountains and to the heavens above.

She slung her arms around me and whispered, “We really did it, we really did!”

Without a word, I just looked up into the Himalayas, I was filled with awe, an inspiration of what we as humans are capable of, and with stinging clarity, I was proud to be human. I no longer felt as if I wanted to escape from the being I was, I had found a semblance of the “happiness” in being this entity, in being human. For the first time, I accepted my faults, and freely flung away my desperate desire to control, and just had faith. The feeling was resounding, for I felt human, I felt alive, and with each precious breath of air, that which gives me life, I was profoundly grateful.

I glanced at Bren in veneration, and I loved her so.

“Thanks again, babe,” I whispered.

“Quit thanking me, I didn’t do anything, you did.”

I sat and pondered her statement for a moment, consumed with it. She really didn’t think that she had done anything, but I knew better. I thought about our boys in the Square, and I thought about Bren here in the Himalayas, and it broke my heart, to just have that much faith. That faith utterly fills your soul to such a profound degree that you would intentionally accept the harsh consequences of an arbitrary world, and all because of this faith in another. It tore at me, clawing my insides, for it was such a precious gift—again I felt like flinging my beating heart away for it was unmerited.

I was truly in awe of Bren and Mary. They were both my Angels, my inspiration, and always will be, for they gave me a gift I can never repay, one that forever changed my being, and one that I will be forever grateful. I then chuckled, amongst the closest place to the heavens on earth, I chuckled for I realized that the “underlying pattern” of this place had brought them both to me, and I had finally accepted their gift, a piece of their purpose. Fate brought us together, wrapped us in its glow, and waited for us to fulfill a precious piece of the human existence. And we did.

And in that same moment I felt terror take hold of my bones, for what was my purpose to them? Was it merely the tangible aspects of who I was, being a lawyer, a boyfriend, or had I yet to fulfill my purpose to them?

Just then Bren brought me back to earth, “I don't really want to leave Nepal. It's been truly wonderful...despite all the problems.”

“Yeah, it’s been an experience that's for sure.”

“I'm glad we spent more time here than in India, especially since so many others have told us it has much of the same feeling not to mention after they were so mean at their embassy.”

“Yeah. Besides, we just didn't have enough time for India, it seems like it's a waste of time to just go there for a couple weeks.”

“It couldn't have worked out any more perfect. And just think in two days we'll be in Africa,” Bren said excitedly.

“Oh, the Dark Continent. We're goin' on Safari, can you believe it...we just finished trekking through the Himalayas in Nepal and we'll be on Safari in Kenya in a couple days.”

“Now what do ya think everyone's doing back home?”

We both drifted off into reflective contemplation, staring out over the lake at the string of commanding peaks of white before us. We were lost with our thoughts when I interrupted, “Hey babe, remember when we were in Kathmandu, in front of the Embassy, when you asked me what we are going to do about America and its direction?”

“Yeah, I remember...I don't think I'll ever forget it, but what about it?” Bren said still enraptured by the sparkling mountains in front of her.

“Well, I know what we're going to do about it. As I was looking at the mountains, thinking of our trek, what we've accomplished, it just hit me like a ton of bricks,” I said drifting back off in thought. It had come to me with those thoughts of Bren and Mary.

But is it my divine purpose? Is this my destiny?

“Well, what is it?” she asked turning her attention away from the Himalayas toward me.

“We're going to change it! We're going to go back to the States and help change it.”

“You're joking,” Bren quickly blurted out with a dazed look in her eyes, “Bri, you really gotta be joking, because that's absolutely ridiculous!”

She shot a quick glance in my direction as I remained silent.

“Whew,” she exalted, “you really had me worried there, I thought you’d lost it for real!”

She looked over with a smile, and as no reply came, the smile faded.

“I’m serious, Bren.”

“It's not ridiculous. That's what we're going to do. Babe, I'm not going to bear this pain the rest of my life. I'm going to change it, or I'm going to die trying.”

“How?” Bren asked her voice cracking in shock.

“I don't know how," I said looking up to the beauty before me, "But it's something that must be done. If I know one thing in my life, this is it!"

"Yeah, but c'mon Bri, it's just the two of us, what the hell can we do..."

"Bri, it’s imposs—"

I smiled. My whole body soared to the sky above and into the mountains, and back to the Sanctuary.

"Where the heart wills, the impossible is only a state of mind," I solemnly reflected as I looked upward to the heavens above me.

Bren then jumped into my arms, looked deep into my eyes and screamed, "After that trek, and everything that’s happened on the trip, I'm never going to say that again!"

We embraced filled with love, filled with all the recent lessons that bound us. In that moment we were One. We laid on our backs, staring up at the sky, joined by our hands, and I stared off into the clouds consumed with the aching pain of my physical body and yet the emotional high from fulfilling our quest.

I felt the dream of the endless obsidian darkness of the spinning vortex of my dreams, and now with a touch of faith, I pushed passed the fear, the denial, the endless perceptions of this haunting place, and the physical "reality" that surrounded my body. I moved swiftly downward consumed with this faith, and as I soared downward into this darkness, a faint speck of light emerged at the end. This wispy whiteness illuminated the walls of this seemingly black gyre and I could see the lines, the strands of golden string flowing systematically downward into this distant star. These flowing strings within a seashell structure were everywhere, so clear, so palpable, and they literally sung to my soul, telling it that this, this was the golden spiral of my existence.

This was me.

Faith brought me to this profound life-stopping moment, and in this same moment I heard Bren’s voice softly calling me, and with a gentle nudge to snap me back to this world, she said with an ironic-filled chuckle, "Our lives are never going to be normal, are they?"

I paused, thinking, staring, and whispered with a deep sigh of relief, "I certainly hope not..."

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