I just recently put down a book that I have been savoring for many weeks now, taking my time each evening in the reading and turning of pages, because it was such a beautiful journey. The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen is unlike any book I have read in my long life, a story of a journey across a vast territory that is the Himalayas, and a journey into the mind of man, one man in particular. Over ice and snow this writer treks with his friend whom he calls GS (aka George Shaller), an accomplished field biologist who is researching the exotic blue sheep called bharal and attempting to witness once again the elusive snow leopard. Matthiessen keeps us so close to the environment, both forbidding and lyrical, that we literally feel the icy feet, hear the wind's scary howl, and see the infrequent blessing of sun on a mountainside. His eye doesn't miss anything. He writes from such clear seeing that we are able to track his mind at the same time that he's on the search for the snow leopard! He carries deep loss on this journey, a wife dead of cancer, and a tugging inside for his children at home. But he is able to carry this suffering because he is wonderfully, humanly buddhist; he is a person who stays present and open to what comes his way and sheds (as he must) what he does not need. When you are trekking in the wilderness, you will not survive if you stay burdened by too much baggage (thinking of all kinds of baggage right now...). When far far away from all the support systems you know, you have to keep it simple. This goes for all the little discontents that arise on the journey because other humans perhaps let you down or piss you off, or the disappointments that come because you have not (perhaps are not meant to) succeeded in coming face to face with the legendary mystical snow leopard who knows how to disappear in the snow. This adventure in the harshest of natural landscapes is certainly a major metaphor for man's own life journey, and the message that is crystal clear to me is: do not lay your hopes too heavily on a particular outcome or goal, because everything in this life is uncertain. In this case, the snow leopard. I had a feeling all the way through this modest but very dense book that Matthiessen and his team would never come upon the leopard, because in a way that would have seemed too tidy a finish. And even though there is plenty of evidence that this beast does walk in their territory, lurking in the vast whiteness around them, he is not willing to be witnessed. Why, I wonder? Is there a particular time and alignment of forces that permit the innocent traveler to finally come upon his envisioned goal? Or arrive at his beloved destination? And the question always is, of course: then what? We must hold the desire lightly, it appears.
I learned a lot about mountain climbing, sleeping on icy mountainsides, about the culture of the sherpas and porters, and Nepalese Buddhism, about ancient pre-Buddhist remains in the landscape, and about dealing with suffering. Or should I say, dealing with adversity and pain? Because the only thing that is tangible really is the pain ... the suffering comes as a result of our human mind's dance with the difficulty. I felt the pleasure of reading clear, honest, poetic writing, which for me is one of life's major joys. I was grateful that this man worked so hard to make this journey on the mountain, and that he labored perhaps just as hard (but in a different way) to craft his experience and show us the world. I felt lonely and satisfied when I turned the last page, and was returned to my own strange landscape of mind...
In the end, what he has done makes me feel honored to be part of a community of travelers and writers, a brave and unusual bunch who write from their loving hearts, and their tireless eyes.
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