Recently I was returning from gorgeous Goa to the city of Bombay and the bus stopped at a roadside dhaba (diner). After my requisite chai I wandered up to the highway to view the consoling stars in the black heavens. I recognized the spot as a site from my dreams, the highway appearing from the dark and disappearing into the dark; headlights flashing from nowhere as vehicles came at me, then melting back into the gloom as the vehicle continued on its way. And only the light of the dhaba behind me representing the one, small spot of civilization, as support, as succor, otherwise it was all chaos, wilderness, the unknown. Thru-out my life I am always lost on that highway, a mystery as to how I got there and where I'm going, the heavens, the earth, all an awesome enigma.
And after Goa I went high up in the Himalayas, to the snow-line and a magic temple to Shiva the Destroyer, the dancing, whirling Universe meditating on existence, where a hot-springs fills a tank. You can sit in the hot-water and view the snow-caps, have icy sleet fall upon your face after smoking the local hashish and feel very high. There's a wooden chalet to sleep snugly in at night and delicious vegetarian food to warm the stomach, but no phones, no television, sometimes no electric power at all.
And every time I'm weary of my contemporary rat-race life I escape to these heights and have some healing time-out. On this visit I was extra weary and wanted to end it all. I thought of walking out of the tiny village in the early morning, into the snowy fastnesses and cutting my wrists in some hidden defile. But I didn't do it. There still seemed something to live for, the grand search for meaning revealed there was no meaning; the journey, the quest was THE FUN, there was no grand Destination except death and I'd get there eventually, for me Life was all about Moving, moving on down that infinite road.