With eyes on the final cairn, I continued trekking towards the peak. I experienced a nagging numbness in my toes and fingers, and with every step forward, I struggled for a deep inhale. Mount Kala Patthar summit was a few steps away, and I could see the Tibetan Lung Ta’s (prayer flags) flying in the wind up ahead. The colorful cloth panels blew Tibetan mantra across the Himalayan Horizon, spreading luck to all nearby expeditionists. Beyond the flags was a blue and pink watercolored sky with dancing clouds all around. The clouds parted and views of Mount Everest became visible. The afterglow gleamed on the jagged peak as if the horizon was about to start its overture. I knew then, this moment could not be replicated.
Today’s society often references the term “reaching peak” to depict life’s indescribable moments. As I stood 5,555 meters above sea level, staring at the sun setting over Mount Everest, I felt as if I had reached my literal peak. Trekking the Khumbu region of Nepal had been a dream of mine for most of my childhood. And this past December, as I boarded my flight for my semester abroad in Thailand, the idea started to feel attainable.
I set out on this adventure with my friend Emily, whom I had met while abroad. Emily and I had spent most of the spring semester saying yes to anything and everything presented to us. We usually planned our travels on a whim, booking flights a few days out and applying for travel visas on the way to the airport. Whether navigating food poisoning on an overnight train back from Vientiane or falling asleep while cradling our bags on a bench in the Kuala Lumpur Airport, our “Type B” mentality always kept us on our toes. We usually started our travel days with no plan, and we liked it that way; it left room for the adventure to guide us. Each of our adventures around Southeast Asia led us to our final journey to Nepal, where we trekked for two weeks through Sagarmatha National Park to Everest Basecamp. I spent the entire plane ride there looking out the window at the distant mountains. The anticipation was consuming me as I thought about the adventure we were about to embark on.
Before going abroad last December, I was obsessed with endurance training. I found myself simultaneously racing triathlons, marathon training and researching my next trail ultramarathon. I have always found peace through movement. In my teen years, I heavily relied on my running capabilities to release stress. I felt that the physical movement brought me to a place where I felt security and control over my body. The most powerful I’ve felt has been through conquering physical challenges like a marathon or climbing to a mountain peak.This is partly what had me so obsessed with the idea of trekking to Everest Basecamp. I believed, if I could trek the highest mountain range in the world, it would bring me the ultimate self empowerment. In life, is the goal to climb as high as possible in search of satisfaction? Or is life a series of hills, valleys and summits, and is physical gain really enough to put our minds at ease?
Today in the U.S., we are driven by technological innovation, consumerism and a desire to compare and compete with other nations. Our culture is shaped by individualism, which is often expressed through a linear model of progression. Although we excel at communicating on digital platforms, our reliance on them has distanced us from an authentic human connection and expression. It sometimes feels as though society puts mental health awareness on the backburner as we place greater emphasis on workplace success, especially when it has become increasingly difficult for the average citizen to maintain comfortable standards of living amid rising economic pressures in the United States. According to a recent CNN poll conducted by SSRS, 76% of Americans reported costs of living as their biggest economic concern in 2026. We live in a politically polarized society with trust issues. The ability to connect and trust others can sometimes seem impossible. Immediate satisfaction and consumer culture have become increasingly embedded in American society today, and it seems to have displaced our importance of companionship, gratitude and human connection – the core human needs. As a product of this environment, it had never occurred to me that a lot of my struggles in life may be due to the culture I was raised in. My time abroad opened my eyes to a new way of thinking – one that I had never experienced or practiced before.
In South Asia, the most prominent religion is Buddhism, a spiritual and religious practice that focuses on the relationship between mind and body. For many Buddhists, the practice is a way of life, not just a set of beliefs. Buddhism is non-theistic, and focuses on self-reliance for liberation rather than a faith-based system that puts power in the hands of an almighty creator. Buddhists focus on personal spiritual development and a devotion to reaching enlightenment from within. Meditative Buddhism rituals include grounding techniques and mindfulness practices to deepen the connection between the body and the natural world. Before going abroad, I was unaware that such harmonious practices existed.
While trekking the Khumbu region, we visited the Tengboche Monastery, one of the most recognized spiritual covenants in the region. Inside, monks chanted and offered passing trekkers the opportunity to join them in meditation. Our group joined for an evening. At the monastery and throughout the trek, we were taught about the Sherpa cultural connections to sacred land, elemental spirits and community connection that keeps the Himalayan Khumbu region thriving. What fascinated me the most was the way Sherpas connected with the land and its people in a way that visitors to the region may not have understood until visiting.
For many tourists coming to the Khumbu region, the land represents a challenge to be conquered and an opportunity for self-driven achievement. However, Sherpas see their relationship with the mountains as reciprocal, rooted in cultivation and sacred harmony. The contrast that tourism brings to the Khumbu region made me reflect on how societal structures and national ideologies shape our understanding of self-actualization.
Throughout my trek, I reflected on my mental empowerment and connection. I felt I developed an entirely new mindset. Ironically, the Diamox-induced stomachaches, altitude-related headaches and frigid temperatures did little to diminish the beauty I was experiencing. Instead, I found myself captivated by stories of monks retreating into isolation in remote mountain caves, the spiritual lives of Buddhists at Tengboche Monastery and the stories behind the prayer flags and stupas we passed along the way. I felt deeply attuned to my surroundings — the mountains, the people and my own mind. I experienced a peace and comfort, completely disconnected from my digital life.
Paradoxically, the more I became surrounded by the elements, the less I seemed to care about how far away we were from the peak. I had expected this journey to lead me to the pinnacle of achievement, when I realized somewhere along the way that I may have already arrived.
. When I reached the top of Mount Kala Patthar, I felt ethereal. Part of me felt I had just reached an irreplicable peak, yet I was already satisfied with everything I had gained from the journey. Instead of feeling the overwhelming sense of completion, I was left mourning moments that had already passed. I turned back down the mountain toward my trekking partners and the trail we had been walking on for the last two weeks. Reaching such a remarkable physical peak did not necessarily bring me the ultimate satisfaction I had imagined. Instead, it made me more curious about the world around me and where I might go from there. Returning back home to the U.S., I found myself struggling to reintegrate into what once was familiar patterns and routines. I began to realize that reaching a peak can be deceiving and oftentimes leaves you wondering where to go next. In most cases, the peak indicates that you’ve reached a limit and you must start your descent.
Reaching a peak can offer us the opportunity to learn and grow and understand perspectives we have never considered before. At my own summit, I reflected on how I had moved past my preexisting physical complex, and toward a deeper process of mindfulness and self-discovery. I began letting go of old habits that were tied to a culture that revolved around domination and status. While I am not religious, opening my mind to Buddhist perspectives sharpened my understanding and appreciation of seeing life through different lenses, and allowed me to start using new approaches towards self success.
I now believe success should not be viewed as linear. Life can be a series of peaks. Seeing the top of the world doesn’t mean you’ve outdone everyone else; it reveals just how much space is out there to explore, experience, learn and grow.
As life becomes more stressful post-abroad, I let my curiosity be the catalyst for exploring the complexities of the world and indulge in every new connection that lay ahead. The paradox of growth is the farther we climb, the more we realize the summit is not the destination, but rather a start of another journey.
But don’t forget to enjoy the view at the top.