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There’s magic in places you don’t know.

Kathmandu is a bustling city. 4 million people live in about 19 square miles. There aren’t any stoplights. Crossing the street means risking death. Literally. You just walk into the middle of the road hoping drivers will stop. It’s very hectic and intimidating. People honking, walking, driving, yelling.

On a main road near Thamel there’s a white wall with a small sign: GARDEN OF DREAMS. It costs about $2 to get in. Then you step behind the mirror of Neverland. Everything is green and lush. And the quiet. It’s. So. Quiet. You almost forget you’re in the hustling middle of a city center. It’s a nice reminder that even when there’s complete chaos around you, the stillness within can thrive.

Squirrels in the Garden of DreamsGarden of DreamsGarden of Dreams

I found it on the way from the money changer. It’s disorienting to be in a land you don’t know with currency that doesn’t look quite right. It reminded me that money is just paper and only has the value we put to it.

I sat for hours in this space. I found a little spot canopied from the rain and watched the squirrels. It was my first day in the city and I thought real hard about dreams. About how I found myself sitting in a garden of them. About how with the right amount of attention and a balance of grit and tenderness, they manifest. I asked myself what were my in-progress-dreams. For much of my life visiting Nepal had been “just a dream.”

Man, I thought,  life is magic.

I wandered around, a little lost and found this plaque:

Voltaire Candide

 

We must cultivate our gardens.

Isn’t that the truth? Even when we don’t know the fruits of our own labor. Even when we don’t know what will come from it, we must water and tend and try again and again to bring forth the best version of ourselves.

Click here for more on the magic of travelling solo.

May your laboring be easy.

With love,

Jemini

 

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