Perseverance

It's raining in LA today... It started raining last night and as I was falling asleep the sound of the rain drops on the window felt like a message in Morse code, calming me down and assuring that everything will be okay. The air this morning smelled fresh and vulnerable. This is exactly how I feel.

So, yesterday I tried to blog about my second day of Kilimanjaro climb and just couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead I looked at the pictures and thought it would be nice if I had more of them. I read my journal and started recollecting everything in detail, which seemed almost too technical and without any philosophical speculations. Then I looked at the list of all the names and contact info of 7 guys from my climbing group and had an urge to get in touch with them and ask them how they are doing. At that moment 7 days of the climb and my group seemed more like some sort of an illusion. I clearly remember that it all happened and I have evidence that it did, but there is no way of returning to it. It is similar to a loss when someone dies...

I've been resisting to wash some of the clothes from the climb for more than a week now. There are a couple of things which require gentle wash and I decided not to take them to the laundry, and rather wash them with my hands... I've been feeling very weird about doing it, especially when I think about my ski pants which protected me so well from cold and wind during the ascent to the summit. I remember taking them off at Barafu camp, where we got back after reaching summit and where we spent the day before. They were all covered in dust and looked grey instead of their usual black color. I turned them inside out and packed in a couple of plastic bags not to spread the dust all over my duffel bag. They are still in those plastic bags, and even a thought of taking them out and washing brings tears to my eyes...

The climb ended on January 30th and then I had 5 more days of safari. I arrived from Tanzania on February 5th and immediately plunged into meeting with friends, doing Spiritual Counseling and preparing for school weekend. Climbing Kilimanjaro was a part of my 2nd year project at the University of Santa Monica, where I am in my second year studying for an M.A. in Spiritual Psychology. On Friday night I shared my experience with the class, which is comprised of more than 200 students. I felt my heart being very open and full of gratitude to my teachers and every single student, whose presence was so tangible during the climb. My share felt more like a real completion of the climb. It was the exclamation mark at the end of a sentence I've been writing for the past 4 months. In every word in this sentence I put so much effort, joy and love. I literally sweated it out, bonded with it, got attached to it. I completed the sentence and stepped into the void.

It didn't feel like the void at first. On Saturday morning I woke up and realized I had some ennui. As the day went by and I got busy with my school, life seemed exciting again. On Monday I let myself be mellow and mostly rested. Yesterday I couldn't bring myself to do anything either. Today I realized that my ennui is not gone, that it's sitting on its usual place on the floor in front of my computer screen and finally I have to face it.

ENNUI. In Merriam-Webster Dictionary the definition of "ennui" is "a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction : boredom", "the kind of ennui that comes from having too much time on one's hands and too little will to find something productive to do". The origin of "ennui" is French, from Old French "enui" - annoyance, from "enuier" to "vex", from Late Latin "inodiare" to make loathsome. Synonyms are: blahs, doldrums, boredom, listlessness, restlessness, tedium, weariness.

I've experienced ennui since I can remember myself. It envades my life in waves. I can always expect it after some kind of an adventure or a meeting with friends, an amazing book I just read or a film that touched me - anything that kept my intellect stimulated and my emotions high. It reminds me of a fire which is fading out and doesn't give any more warmth. The coldness sucks me in and makes me very helpless and weak. It's very uncomfortable and feels like a waste of time.

One of the great expectations I had from Kilimanjaro is that it will allow me to discipline myself. I was convinced that having a training routine for 3 months will be essential for my body getting used to excercise and my mind adopting a structure it can follow to be productive. Ooooops, what a surprise! Like all great expectations, this one fell through.... And it's hard, it's really hard to deal with ennui again!

All that matters right now is that I joined the dark clouds in the sky and poured all my thoughts out together with the rain. My determination to be here for myself is more important than anything else. I've noticed that throughout these days of ennui, for the first time in my life I've been remarkably gentle with myself. And even though my expectation of being disciplined didn't come true, I've gained something else. My spirit has learned to communicate with my body in a more profound way and my body knows how to listen and follow my spirit. The spirit always perseveres.

"My intention is to be strong. My intention is to feel well. My intention is to be safe. My intention is to reach the summit" - the memory of setting my intentions during the final ascend starts tingling my heart, just like Diamox pills tingled in my hands, feet and face when helping me to acclimatize to the high altitude. "Pole, pole" - "Slowly, slowly" - this is how you get to the top of Kilimanjaro. And this is exactly how I need to get back to living and enjoying my everyday life without having to train or climb the mountain. My intention is to continue to be gentle with myself, like the gentle wash I am going to do with my dusty ski pants which served me so well when I needed them.

"Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose" - these words of Yoda I read yesterday on the page of one of my Facebook friends. My ennui is merely a fear of losing the taste of adventure and excitement in my life, a fear of being buried under the dust of uneventful days, a fear of mediocre waste of time. But guess what: it's all an illusion. I cannot possibly lose what I AM. Because I AM the Adventure, I AM the Excitement, I AM the Spontaneity, I AM the Taste of my life, whether it is spicy, sweet, sour, salty, tart or any other. And I am so happy to be able to share it openely with other people!

Sometimes one just needs more time to acclimatize to low altitude before gaining it high again:)