Lhasa—the first thing on my waking mind.
My chest contracts at the thought of going. What brought so much joy yesterday evening frightens me in the early morning after. My hands weigh heavy on my chest as my eyes open to the stark darkness covering the room. The wooden ceiling is a blur from afar, but my mind is sharp. How quickly genuine enthusiasm turns into crippling anxiety when we let our mind rule over the call of my heart.
Prayer—that will focus me, give me the courage to step on my path again. Now that I’m not in the monastery anymore, I’ve been neglecting my daily prayer and meditation. Being with my sisters, following the monastic rhythm, day-to-day life was simple. Over ten years of a meticulous routine of prayer, study, and work—how quickly I’ve let myself fall out of this
