Recently, I started to read my friend's travelog,when I realised that most people will never see the mountains of Nepal.
I was sitting in my flat, having just mended part of my duvet from the ordinary wear of living.
Most people will only know ordinary life no matter how extraordinary they aspire to be or dare to dream.
I applaud my friend (and our other friend) who decided to go on actual pilgrimages as a way to get out of the ordinary ruts of life. To experience something different than their worn out surroundings could offer and who may have even been led into this journey.
I felt encouraged when, after having the first friend over for dinner after his travels, he essentially described my own journey over the past ten years: of being uprooted, of beginning to see things differently, of being alone, of being beautifully provided for, of confronting the inner world and why it is the way it is, of taking risks and how all of this teeters on a trust the world doesn't provide and doesn't know.
If I am willing to quiet my soul, listen, and hear, there is Something in the mundane routine of being, of the ordinary. And it is so rich!