I refuse to have a mundane existence. I believe in tasting the air that I breathe as it knocks the wind out of my lungs. I choose not to succumb to routine which I have seen far more closely than I would have liked to. Change is the master I respect, whose path I follow. And when I notice a pattern forming, a cycle taking shape, I realise that it is time I take a lesson from my master again.
So, coming to the cliché introspective paragraph on 2015- here goes. Honestly, 2015 turned out to be far better than I expected. I conquered one of my greatest fears by travelling alone to the other side of the world, breaking out of my shell and talking to a bunch of interesting and amazing people (lets ignore the 'oh my god what if my host is an axe murderer' moment which made me want to turn my flight back around- sorry, Lorri. I love you). I started paying more heed to whom and what I love and learnt to accept the inevitable. I'm pleased, to say the least. But somewhere in between all this, I found routine creeping in again. Routine has a way of making you grow restless, especially when there is a paucity of challenges. I knew it was time to put myself to test once again. So I decided to do my first high altitude trek.