A Family Journey Through the Senses

I see the mountains peeking out from the clouds,

Swaying trees, leaping monkeys, fluttering birds, steady feet on stone stairs,

A carpet of purple ephemeral flowers whose name we do not know,

Lush mosses and abundant ferns, staircases bringing us closer to white-capped peaks…

I smell pollen from little white flowers,

Musky dirt, brand new buds, the fresh wetness of clouds,

Smoldering grasses, burned to renew high altitude yak food,

The sweet perfume of incense burning…

I hear birds chirping in the Rhododendrons,

Loud alarm calls, wind through young bamboo leaves, the slight whisper of human voices,

Ruffling flags, flinging elemental prayers to the seven directions,

The gurgling call of a raven, the rhythmic swishing of our backpacks…

I taste the warm, salty broth of noodle soup,

The sweetness of chocolate melting on my tongue, the warm comfort of hot lemon,

Plate after plate of dal bhat,  variations on cauliflower and potatoes, bitter nescafe smoothed by powdered milk,

The sweet kiss of milk tea and the surprising bite of radish achaar…

I feel my smooth bamboo walking stick,

The light caress of the breeze, the rough scratch of a trees trunk, the soft warmth of a stray dog, the brush of the earth at my feet,

Our bodies, physical, crafted with mountain walking in mind,

Cold stones and brittle rhododendron bark, the warm cocoon of a sleeping bag, a hot cup of tea in hand…

Senses awake, hearts present, we are being shaped by this place…