In this incantation, I reflect on a profound state of detachment, where external surroundings—whether in the heart of Kathmandu or elsewhere—hold no sway over my internal equilibrium. I realize that my sense of excitement has dwindled to just two things: my digital creations and the simple pleasure of food. Despite the isolation, I take pride in the tranquility gained, as it distances me from suffering and the narrative of my own awakening, allowing me to remain unmoved by the outside world.
I have reached a state of detachment where nothing outside of myself can excite or engage me. Sitting in a darkened hotel room in Kathmandu, I feel no difference between this city and any other, as there is nothing out there that I cannot find within. The only remaining excitement I feel is for my digital work creation and, occasionally, for food. However, I take greater pleasure in the detachment I’ve achieved, knowing that it lessens my suffering as I extract myself from the story of my awakening.
I have reached a point of detachment where there is very little that can excite or engage me. I sit now in my darkened hotel room in the middle of Kathmandu, curtains drawn. Though I have been here many times, it would not be any different if it was another city in another country I was visiting for my first time. There is nothing out there that I cannot find right here.
I am unmoved.
I am encouraged by my progress in this area. I was once such an excitable person, but that only remains for my final creation: my digital work management solution. Nothing else can elicit any excitement from me. I remain unmoved, uninterested, and disengaged. I do not feel any guilt or regret for the long hours I will spend here in my hotel room, as one week passes and I return to my tranquil cottage in the Himalayas. I do not feel that I am missing out. All I do is change the wallpaper of my space; from a Himalayan cottage to an urban Nepali hotel. There is nothing else happening; I am not moving. I am not changing. There is nothing in the space beyond my darkened room that I want.
What am I? I am what I am when I close my eyes. And when I close my eyes, all the qualities of this place I see infrequently as Nepal, are reduced to similar noises. The only excitement that remains for me is that of eating. I eat one time per day, and I do allow myself to delight somewhat in the textures and qualities of the food I place in my mouth and that fill my belly. But I delight more in the level of detachment I have achieved, for it means that I suffer less as I extract myself from this story I call my awakening.
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