This blog is very very special. Thank you very much for sharing.
Here are the precious memories of yours, I cherish and will read again and again.
And yet, they trusted their adult son, who now lives in a van, to be their tour guide for three whole weeks. If that’s not an act of love (or blind faith?), I don’t know what is.
But maybe that’s the point. We left space for life to surprise us. And it did.
I used to think trust came from knowing what to expect. But more often, it comes from just showing up—and staying.
I also came to see if I could rekindle the stoke—to try hard again. Not in some prove-myself kind of way, but to rediscover joy in the movement, the obsession, the rhythm.
One day, I accidentally backed into someone’s front porch outside Santiago. I ruptured their water pipe. Water gushed like a geyser. I also cracked a planter. I was horrified.
The woman inside, Rosie, came out. She made sure I was okay. Then, without anger, she gave me a list of plumbing parts and simply said, “Go to the hardware store. Come back.” She didn’t ask for money. She didn’t threaten. She trusted.
And I came back. We fixed the faucet together. We laughed. She sent me on my way with a smile.
That moment will stay with me longer than any route I climbed.
Thank you again for sharing and making me part of your journey.
I feel privileged.
Wishing you good health and more memorable days, months and years of happy life.
Dear Kush and Sudhir/Chtra,
Lovely to see you all in the photoes.
This blog is very very special. Thank you very much for sharing.
Here are the precious memories of yours, I cherish and will read again and again.
And yet, they trusted their adult son, who now lives in a van, to be their tour guide for three whole weeks. If that’s not an act of love (or blind faith?), I don’t know what is.
But maybe that’s the point. We left space for life to surprise us. And it did.
I used to think trust came from knowing what to expect. But more often, it comes from just showing up—and staying.
I also came to see if I could rekindle the stoke—to try hard again. Not in some prove-myself kind of way, but to rediscover joy in the movement, the obsession, the rhythm.
One day, I accidentally backed into someone’s front porch outside Santiago. I ruptured their water pipe. Water gushed like a geyser. I also cracked a planter. I was horrified.
The woman inside, Rosie, came out. She made sure I was okay. Then, without anger, she gave me a list of plumbing parts and simply said, “Go to the hardware store. Come back.” She didn’t ask for money. She didn’t threaten. She trusted.
And I came back. We fixed the faucet together. We laughed. She sent me on my way with a smile.
That moment will stay with me longer than any route I climbed.
Thank you again for sharing and making me part of your journey.
I feel privileged.
Wishing you good health and more memorable days, months and years of happy life.
Srinivasa Murthy