It is Easy to be New Away

Over the past 24 hours, riding a camel, I seem to have made mine this dire earth's desire for water. I seem to have made mine the desire to thrive under the extreme sun, to endure extreme conditions, and to persist within draught. Now, there is an an ocean of sand, shades of red confusing themselves with the intense blue that fills the sky above. The sun, impressive, shinning still, as the day ends. The heat, at the late hours of the day, manageable. A dozen camels, resting below the dunes. Sand dunes covering the horizon and spread around in every possible directions. Mountains of gold, of silky sand, untouched by the billion people that populate this subcontinent.

I am in a remote place. I am in a remote place. I am in a remote place. I am in a remote place.

Gold and blue in shades my eyes have not seen before. I stand here in the Thar Desert, about 60km away from Jaizalmer, Rajasthan's largest city furthest to the West, equidistant from the Pakistan border. There were camouflage military bases, military vehicles, and peacocks flying freely on the way before reaching this point. I stand in an area of intense international conflict. An strategic point between two of the world's nuclear powers. An area that has seen hoards of Hindi and Muslims disagree, fight, destroy, and combat. Combat for beliefs. Combat for land. Combat for history.

In the single moment, I too stand here combating, disagreeing, fighting, feeling nuclear against my own history and the present moment. Desertic oceans do that. They make moments, ceremonial. It is easy to be new away. Away from history. On an ocean of golden sand.

I walk on the profile of the summit. And I remember. On one side shade. On the other, the sun, as a perfect circle, setting down. My heart looks aside and suddenly discovers the perfect opportunity for action. The perfect opportunity to allow greater excess to this extraordinary moment. The body craves to run downhill, at full speed, down the mountain of sand. No repercussions. Just run. I run. 45 degree slope. I run. Feet reach deeper into the sand. Hit whatever I have to hit in the way. Fall whichever way. Just run and toss and turn. Be free.

Running downhill leads to trampolines. Of the childest kind. Running downhill leads to laughter and the heart pounding ever faster. Running downhill presents you with the summit yet again. It reminds you, of the opportunity, for mastering the day, through the simplest, single moment.

This pilgrimage continues. Experiences, brutal, transformational, find shape. India is a revolution to the heart and mind. I can only find minutes to uncover fine moments. The desert was one. I hope, to find structure to all of this. The journey, itself, is meant for that. For now, I remain, running downhill, falling whichever way, discovering India, tossing, turning, in awe, admiring, being eternally grateful for this amazing privilege, understanding it, and, every day, being less metallic, less aluminum, and a more compact soul.