pilgrimage.

I have a week, after I finish teaching, and when my visa runs out, to kick it, and so I am going somewhere. I didn’t know where I should go. This is a big country after all. Secrets not even the Angels know about live here. I researched all the places I could have gone, but didn’t get a chance to explore, while I have lived here these last two years. And then I asked my gut to squeal when I came across the right one. And so I am going horseback riding into the Tibetan Plateau. It will take a long time to actually get to the horses, and then I will be amongst a wild China for three days. Staying with nomads, drinking goat milk, rubbing my soar ass, and remembering all the things I don’t want to forget. I will use the presence of Annie Dillard’s written word, the sound of Tibetan chanting, and my foggy memory to try to capture these last two years. I don’t want to forget things. I don’t want to forget this. I don’t want to just leave as if it is nothing. But sometimes it’s easier to leave as if it’s nothing. But I want to feel this. I want to feel these last two years no matter how hard it will become. I need to, because I don’t want to forget.

(image from chama gudao)

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