This past summer, on Fourth of July weekend, I bled out due to complications from a major surgery to have my cervix removed. My daughter saved my life by getting me to the hospital; my doctors saved my life by performing emergency surgery; and then I saved my own life by fleeing to Nepal to heal.
An old boyfriend I’d met on Tinder, 32 to my 51, therefore too young to keep, had urged me to meet him there, to be both my spiritual guide and nursemaid. He promised Nepal would not only soothe my body but my soul. I was so broken—literally by my medical woes, figuratively by divorce from a two-decade marriage—I was ready to try anything in the name of spiritual enlightenment and healing.
Everyone told me not to go. That I was being foolish. Nepal is for trekking, they all said, and you can barely walk. But they were wrong.
So what if I had to be wheeled through the airport in a wheelchair, and 19 hours crammed in coach is hardly the best way to recover from surgery? You can go to Nepal and be still. You can go to Nepal and find enlightenment. You can go to Nepal and experience the kind of transcendent beauty and attention to kindness and karma that presses the spiritual reset button on your life, without ever having to climb a single mountain.