I drink in the sweetest scene in a Nepalese guesthouse 30,000+ feet high in the Annapurna hills.

As the sun sets and night emerges hiking tourists, their trekking guides, and the guesthouse keeper all huddle around an old and rusty metal furnace in middle of the dining room to keep our feet — and Souls — warm and cozy.

Nepalese men teach some white women how to play card games, as the cooks listen to a harmonium being played from a radio in the kitchen.

Some are on their phones, others and reading books or chatting, and for this evening it feels as though we are one big happy Ohana (family)...

If you ask me what I do in Nepal, I would say I eat, shop and WALK.

I walk up countless stone steps to Ulleri, and along the Fewa lake to its’ Northern most and quietest side where the crows swirl around the paragliders.

I walk past Tam farmers harvesting in the rice fields, lazy cows chewing their cud, jungly waterfalls and muddy riverbeds.

I walk on dirt roads, through the magical forests of Ban Thanti, past nearly empty villages of Bhaisi Karkha and on the ancient and dusty cobblestone streets east of Katmandu.

Walking becomes my meditation like never before. I walk as my mind fixates on the past — analyzing the details of an interaction with my lover, or a memory with my family that emerges.

And I walk as my mind wanders into the future — fantasizing about different potential fulfilling scenarios for the next chapter of my life.

I walk as my mind is present, and I walk as it isn’t. I walk in joy, in sorrow, in worry, in peace, in physical pain, in gratitude, and everything in between...

As my legs become weary from four straight days of trekking and I desperately desire a ride to the bus station, the lines between me and the locals dissolve as I spontaneously hitchhike a Jeep ride down to Narapul.

I’m the only non-Nepalese in the crowded Jeep, and the locals are clearly amazed and respectful of my hitchhiking efforts.

Life suddenly looks sharper and feels deeper, perhaps from my brave and daring act. Somehow everything occurs as more real, and in this transit along the torn and bumpy road next to the flowing river I hide the tears that are rolling down my face as I let go of my expectations of what the future will bring me...

I’m back in the City and as soon as I walk into the Boudinath Stupa I can feel its’ Holy. The blockages in my third eye and crown chakra instantly unblock. There is a presence here, a clarity, a meaninglessness, an emptiness.

I walk for 108 times around the Boudhanath Stupa for a Kora Meditation. It takes more than seven hours in one day. It’s honestly brutal on my body and psyche and I can’t ignore the perfectly Buddhist metaphor of journeying with Life in suffering and pain...(or not).

Moments of beauty are my saving grace during my seven hour circular sojourn. I watch in awe as a woman prostrates around the candlelit Stupa when it becomes quiet from night.

I smile with delight as a handful of young girls chant while they circumambulating.

A Buddhist monk’s chanting inspires me for a few hours and as he sits on a bench at the stupa and nods at me each time I pass for another round, his gesture a profound act to encourage me to keep going.

An old Nepalese man offers me a handful of his popcorn as we walk together for a round or two.

I get very present to the scene I’m in and suddenly my heart explodes. Hundreds of fellow humans are walking around the stupa with their mala beads in hand as an act of PURE DEVOTION to themselves, and to something greater...What could be more Holy?

In my walk back from a brief visit to the beautiful Kopan Monastery, I stumble upon a Durga temple in a backstreet alleyway. The Goddess of Good clears my heart and throat chakras and she is clearly so pleased I came for a visit...

I experience more magic in ordinary moments and understand that THIS is my Nepal: it’s the sweet flow of dropping in and rolling with the traffic in a taxi, as the driver listens to American hip-hop.

A Taurus Full Moon gift reminds me that letting go of control can bring the sweetest forms of abundance. Shoddy Kathmandu wifi leaves me unable to choose my airline seat online after several attempts, so I give up and trust that I’ll have a decent seat.

At the airport, I wonder why I’m guided to the airline lounge and offered endless food free of charge, and when I board the plane I’m awestruck and mystified to learn that I’ve been assigned a first class seat! A magical parting gift as I bid Nepal a farewell (for now)...