Journal Entry 10.23.23

The porters load up. They strap two trekkers’ packs together with another large duffel and then put a small pack of their belongings on top. Technically they are only supposed to carry 25kg (55lbs) but it is clear when they heft a pile of bags bigger then themselves that the weight is far greater.

When I am here, in a village, crossing language and culture values, I have to be pure and direct and have all my focused attention on the person I am communicating with. There is no room for my baggage.

The porters heft their loads, and with a tump line across their foreheads, they lean forward. They have difficulty looking up, they cannot move quickly, or stop suddenly, they don’t talk, they don’t smile. The look up when they need to so as not to stumble or to see which way we are going to walk, but they are focused only on their loads.

I imagine returning home and how different I will be there. I am like the porters, carry loads far greater than my own weight. Loads of guilt and shame, of anger and loss, or rejection and disparagement, and of judgement. How could I possibly be present with anyone if I am burdened by my baggage? That is the big difference I have to aware of when I return home. The depth of my relationships in other cultures is due to the fact that I stand there, not bent over with my emotional “baggage”, rather I stand there wrapped in a local cloth, vulnerable to my mistakes, vulnerable to eye contact, and the consequences of my words.

I will return home and imagine each interaction is as valuable and quiet and slow and direct as my village relationships. I will put down my porter’s load and stand naked except for a cloth indicating I chose to identify as a member of that community, and hold myself accountable.