I’m standing on a frozen lake at 5,400 metres, halfway across the Cho La pass. My heart is hammering—not just from the altitude, but because each step sounds hollow and brittle, like something might give out.
Ahead, Pasang turns and grins. “We’re good,” he says, casually, like we’re strolling to lunch, not traversing a sub-zero lake on a remote pass.
12 hours ago, my alarm went off at 4am.
My clothes and water are wrapped around me in my sleeping bag to keep the clothes warm and to stop the water from freezing.
When I was 13 years old, I went on a school trip to the Forest of Dean.
The entire year came on the trip, and we all stayed in a wooden bunk house with 3 or 4 kids in each room. The teachers had their own quarters down the hallway.
We’d go on trips to nature reserves and railway stations during the day, and have lessons in the afternoon. In the evening, we’d all eat together in a tall hall with long wooden benches.
“Blessing, infinite in its modes and colours, often seems to me to be the very nature of all things, of all existence.”
—Rob Burbea, in one of his final emails
I arrived at The Barn yesterday for a 6-night solo retreat at the Hermitage. Walking along one of the garden trails, one of the coordinators asked when I was last on retreat.
“It must have been 10 years ago, at least”, I said, surprising myself. Had it been that long?
It’s 8am on Monday, and I’m in my office at my standing desk with the Sun streaming through the window.
I’m kicking off the day with a frenzied triage of email, meeting prep and multiple to-do lists. Yesterday was bad enough that a second to-do list was created to manage the first one.
Slack is lit up with messages from Indian developers who were busy working while I was sleeping. They need my input on how to proceed.
A few days ago, I started a story log, as part of learning to tell better stories. Or rather, tell stories better.
Here’s how Matthew Dicks describes it in his book, Storyworthy:
At the end of every day, take a moment and sit down. Reflect upon your day. Find your most storyworthy moment, even if it doesn’t feel very storyworthy. Write it down. Not the whole story, but a few sentences at most. … What is my story from today? What is the thing about today that has made it different from any previous day?