The Blessing of Peace
Khumjung Valley, Nepal
Dear Soul Friends,
Today is the second Monday of Advent. Each Sunday of Advent my church lights a candle on the Advent wreath. This week we lit the candle of peace.
Many years ago in 1983, when I finished seminary and was ordained, I started to sign my letters, “In peace, Susan.” I’m not sure why, but I knew it had something to do with the letters written by St. Paul. He liked to begin his letters greeting people with grace and peace. It felt like a loving approach to greeting others. I decided to end my letters in a similar fashion. One day many years later I walked into a valley of deep peace that changed me forever.
During the winter of 2012 my husband Bob suggested we hike part of the trail to Mt. Everest in Sagarmatha National Park, Nepal. Surprised, I asked why. Unbeknownst to me, it had always been a dream of his to see Mt. Everest. He felt it would be the perfect adventure for our new empty nest status. I’d never considered hiking in Nepal. I innocently agreed. It would be an adventure!
We started the trek the following October by flying in a small prop plane through the peaks of the Himalayas. We landed in Lukla, Nepal on a tiny runway with a terrifying twelve degree uphill slope. Just as we were about to hit a stonewall the pilot swung the plane to a sharp right and came to abrupt halt. All the Nepalese on board burst into applause.
What had I gotten myself into? When I questioned Bob about this detail, he shrugged and said, “It’s considered by many to be the most dangerous airport in the world. I’m glad we made it.” My anxiety began to climb. What would be the next surprise?
We took an easy pace as we started to climb along the trail at the edge of a vast canyon. I was enjoying the beauty of the morning, the mountains, and the motion of my legs until I stopped dead in my tracks. I was standing in front of a massive suspension bridge stretching across the canyon. It was swaying in the wind. The chain link fence on either side of the bridge kept the hikers from falling off, but there were no handrails to hold on to. The gaps between the worn wooden planks revealed the raging river below and I dreaded the first step.
“I have to walk across that?” I asked.
“There are twelve of them,” our guide said.
Choosing to be brave instead of aborting our trip, I began to walk across the bridge only to discover a yak train coming from the other side at quick pace. Somehow I needed to make room for the yaks in the narrow space and keep walking. With my eyes focused on the other side of the bridge, I inched my way across. How would I ever cross the canyon twelve times? Would I be anxious the whole trip?
But the trail held a different idea. Originally an ancient Tibetan trade route, for me it was a trek into inner peace. Each turn brought a new surprise. We passed Tibetan prayer flags, piles of ancient prayer stones, and huge prayer wheels that we spun as we walked by. We passed sherpas carrying goods on their backs to serve the communities high up in the mountains, women washing clothes in streams using stones as washing boards, and children playing outside their huts. All of them greeted us, calling out, “Namaste”—the Buddhist greeting meaning “my soul bows to your soul.” I listened to the sherpas chant, “Om Mani Padme Hum” as they guided their yak trains or carried their load of goods. One couple held hands while they strained under the weight of their packs and chanted. Soon I began silently chanting, too.
On our fourth day, we entered the Khumjung Valley just below fourteen thousand feet. Snow peaked mountains lined the path on either side glistening in the sparkling sunlight. Off in the distance was Mt. Everest and the top of the world. On our left was Mount Khumbila, a holy mountain too sacred to climb. The valley people believed Khumbila watched over them and protected them.
We fell into silence as we walked. Soaking in the beauty surrounding us, I realized the trail was a sacred path too holy for conversation. Even though we were moving, we were encompassed in stillness, glory, and complete quiet. This was peace. Deep peace. Heaven and earth became peace and I felt it within and around me. That is when I realized peace is one of God’s ways of speaking to us. When we feel it, we are united with Holy Presence.
We don’t have to be roaming the Himalayas to experience peace, but it helps to set aside time for quiet listening. It helps to stop rushing and rest in stillness. It helps to pay attention to our breath and calm down.
It is my hope and my prayer that as you journey through Advent, you will find time for quiet reflection. May you be blessed by the gift of peace.
Deep peace to you,
Susan
