In Search of the Snow Leopard: An Awakening Expedition

The Call of the Wilderness In autumn 1972, wildlife biologist George Schaller invited his writer friend Peter Matthiessen to accompany him on a trip to northwestern Nepal for the study of Himalayan blue sheep (bharal), with the aim of collecting data on the wildlife of the Tibetan Plateau.

Snow leopards, Matthiessen knew, were certain to be found wherever blue sheep were most active. The blue sheep, according to his information, were present in large numbers around Shey Monastery in the Dolpa region, where animal populations had long benefited from strong protection thanks to age-old customs and the monks' strict adherence to the precept of non-violence. To Matthiessen's knowledge, only two Westerners had glimpsed the rare and beautiful animal during the preceding twenty-five years, and Schaller was one of them.

In September of the following year, Matthiessen and Schaller set out from Kathmandu. Matthiessen had readily agreed to accompany Schaller, eager for a chance to see the "mystical creature of the snow-capped mountains." At the start of the trip, his knowledge of their destination was only faint and imprecise. Having spent so long within modern Western civilization, the distant Himalayan world appeared to him still cloaked in mysterious legend.

After almost two months of strenuous hiking, they would cross the Himalayan range completely from south to north, finally arriving at Shey Monastery (Crystal Monastery).

Matthiessen began keeping a careful diary of his daily experiences, observations, and reflections from the very outset of the trip. In contrast to Schaller, who pursued scientific research, Matthiessen's goal was "to delve into the high mountain sanctuary in search of something still unknown, and like the yeti, perhaps something that might be lost in the pursuit.

Pilgrimage of the Heart: In the deep mountains, far from modern civilization, the concept of time is absent. Eventually, these records were gathered into the classic work 'The Snow Leopard: A Pilgrimage of the Heart,' which critics have lauded as 'a seamless blend of nature writing and spiritual Zen insights' and which is still a bestseller. Matthiessen was once again given the prestigious National Book Award for this work.

In Matthiessen's view, the centuries since Siddhartha Gautama, who lived in the 6th century BC, had brought little change. The local people's beliefs and daily routines remained as unhurried, tranquil, and enigmatic as they had always been.

During the journey through Pokhara—"the last outpost of the modern world," as Matthiessen called it—he took off his watch, because "the time on the watch had lost all meaning here" for him. "We seemed to be a century away from the mundane world." With no news, no telephone, no mail, no conventional secular pastimes or material lures, and not even the usual markers of time, space, or other people, the matters once thought vital in life were stripped down to the basic instinctual routine of eating, walking, observing, daydreaming, being alone, and sleeping.

In this place, there is no call for cognition, planning, or organizing; one simply follows present intuition. As the saying goes, "We live like the locals, retiring at sunset and rising at dawn." Without deliberately forcing oneself to write or think, it felt as though even any mental activity was unnecessary.

Once the layers of overload are stripped away and things are simplified, life can be so straightforward and light. In this state, with the barriers of defensiveness and self-consciousness removed, one reacts to all things automatically, just like deep-valley flowers that forever follow the natural rhythms and cosmic order, totally immersed in growth and finishing this cycle's practice within the endless cycle of existence. And what a marvel that life can carry on as usual under these circumstances.

For those accustomed to linear thinking, the Western emphasis on reason and logic begins to loosen its hold. A life once oriented around strategy and planning shifts toward an exclusive focus on the present moment and awareness, uncovering the very essence of life itself. It resembles a bright moon emerging from behind the clouds, its clear radiance filling the heart and mind with tranquility and joy. To outside observers, such a journey may appear harsh and solitary.

Char's haiku—"Alone on a mountain path, coolies chatting softly, magpies dancing ahead."—offers a glimpse into their circumstances. The journey, especially with winter drawing near, is increasingly disrupted by the Himalayan region's brutal weather, which throws unexpected hurdles in their path. Yet for these two people, who have grown indifferent to modern human civilization, the trip represents a singular chance for inward reflection, serving as a spiritual pilgrimage.

The practice of meditation as a "soul-cleansing journey" has become widely known, and the pursuit of inner tranquility now carries a fashionable appeal. Matthewson describes this as a "fragrant journey," capturing the core of intuitive existence. Meanwhile, places that were once off the beaten path and largely untouched by commercial development can suddenly draw throngs of visitors once they gain media exposure overnight.

Everything exists dialectically: a river never has just one bank, and a hand never has only one side. Thanks to the ease of material goods and travel, any soul worn down by noise, agitation, and unease can set down anywhere on earth whenever it wishes. Yet the internal barriers of a rigid, shut-off consciousness can once again tarnish even the purest land, whereas a lucid mind can always find calm amid the world's clamor.

When social media is filled with an intense craving for utopia and paradise, we should realize that this is merely a game of self-deception. True utopias and paradises do exist in this world, yet they can only be truly known through a thorough and balanced grasp of every aspect, acknowledging that the good and the bad are fundamentally intertwined and cannot be pulled apart, while dissolving all mental categories completely. Once this point is reached, one no longer perceives or interprets reality through dualistic thinking. Every phenomenon appears wholly transformed, possessing an entirely unprecedented essence.

For decades, Matthewson's travel accounts have remained a best-selling classic, offering deep insights into the soul. A new quality gradually grew within him over the course of his journeys, and this is what gives his work its lasting value. His travels were not mere surface-level tourism; through them, he experienced spiritual growth. Genuine meditation does not require finding a space removed from the everyday world—no place of silence exists as an object to be discovered anywhere in the world.

Before setting off, Matthiessen had already spent two to three years in meditation practice and had read a significant portion of representative Eastern philosophical works. Nevertheless, at the start of the journey, this level of understanding may not have been truly and clearly realized by him; if it was, it remained only a theoretical understanding derived from his reading, far from the intuitive experience that comes with an open mind.

The notion of "renouncing desires, contemplating well, and realizing the truth—the true essence of intuitive existence" is what this aligns with. Siddhartha Gautama gave up the ancient epic philosophy, convinced that "such tranquility lacks the supreme truth," and instead threw himself into the midst of activity. As for Matthiessen, his journey was, in actuality, a rare real-world empirical confirmation of the Zen ideas he had previously internalized only at a theoretical level.

Matthiessen's introspection and the advancement of his travels were intertwined, as shown in this substantial diary. Whether he was remembering his wife who had been lost to disease or missing his son who was abroad, the convergence of causes and conditions—toward others, himself, and all phenomena—drove and supported his awakening, granting him a wholly new and receptive viewpoint and state of mind.

Truly living in the present moment—this is what the so-called purification of the soul actually amounts to: becoming awakened, with an open consciousness that is fully aware of every instant of life. "He has the wild yet wise eyes of a yogi monk. He exudes an inner tranquility, likely related to his spiritual attainments... He seems like a hazy figure from a past life, as if we have known each other for a long time...

I feel an unsettled sensation, instinctively aware that his being here is no coincidence, yet he treats our bond as something entirely natural. His gaze so often falls upon me, as though he’s watching over me; it is direct, serene, and kind, free of any condemnation. But when I meet his eyes, as though peering into a mirror, I see my own emptiness, greed, rage, and delusion reflected back. He carries what Tibetans call the wisdom of a "mad traveler"—utterly unbound and at liberty. That was in 1968, among Nepalese porters.

Matthiessen was deeply impressed during the journey by Tukten, the Sherpa guide, who put his full effort into every assignment and often assisted with others' minor matters beyond his own scope. In addition, Matthiessen depicted a local grandmother, Sonam, residing in a tranquil hamlet and resembling a wise elder. 'On the way down the mountain, I stopped outside Mrs. Xiaocun Sonam's yard for a while.' Photography: Rabi Sharma Khanal.

Sitting on a pile of dried cow dung with her legs stretched out, she diligently wove a wool blanket on a makeshift loom made of sticks and stones, using old straw shoes to tighten it against the stones. Her clothing was ragged and black with coal smoke, and she wore rough spun boots, plus coral beads left from her girlhood. The blanket she was weaving bore a delicate, elegant pattern, showing that even rural old women appreciated design. I admired her sudden smile, her strong back, and her skin that showed no fear of dirt.

At dawn each day, she went out to gather cow dung. And at night, what did she dream of? In the dim light of a half-moon, as the cold crept in and darkness gathered, she would quietly pass through her narrow doorway to eat a little barley. Once, long ago, she had been a girl with rosy cheeks; now, in her later years, she labored without rest.

An elderly grandmother in the Himalayan mountains, photographed by Eric Valli, may have been wiser than that: she gave no thought to it at all, simply concentrating on survival like a wolf—for her, staying alive was meditation. Such people embody their beliefs in every part of their daily existence. This is not about endlessly repeating rituals and dogmas, but rather about "nurturing inner awareness" and living authentically and wholeheartedly in the here and now.

With an intuition that is fully clear in the present moment, they can have an entirely responsive exchange with a person, a mountain, a lake, a blade of grass, a bird, or an insect alike. Instead of using the mind’s activity to judge or categorize, they attentively sense the natural being of every entity, feeling one with the universe. In Nepal, a group of children are playing a game.

His body dissolved into the light as the mountain fell silent, and tears rose that had no connection to "me." In his diary he wrote: "Wind, grass swaying, sun. The blades that are withering and the cries of birds heading south across the sky pass no faster than stone, nor do they last longer—all are equivalent." Such total absorption in every act comes not from thought but from a state beyond it. Photo: Pinterest

The reason behind my tears remains a mystery to me. Along the road, the mica and scattered stones glistened, while a feather in yellow and gray-blue rested there, its presence suggesting it was no mere dropping from a bird.

I was suddenly struck by an inexplicable, sharp intuition: along the silver-white road, inside the feather, in the sound of wooden and leather boots, within breathing, in the rhythm of sunlight, wind, and flowing water, among mountains and rivers that make no distinction between past and future, in this moment and in every moment, “impermanence” and “eternity,” “death” and “life” are inseparable. The front page of The Revelation of Crystal Mountain commented on Matthewson’s writing, observing that his superb, exquisite command of snowy scenery brings Nepal’s mountains vividly to life in just a few words and exudes a pure, crisp atmosphere. Photo by _vzvsky: villagers in the mountain valley.

One of Western culture's misconceptions about Zen Buddhism is that it means fleeing reality. Behind this vista, thoughts spill over, alternating between sorrow and levity. After the many peaks and valleys of a slow passage, all roads lead to a serene and lucid enlightenment.

Zen Buddhism is not about pursuing a pure land apart from the world; rather, it seeks purity inside the world—'awake without leaving the world.' It calls people to dwell in the here and now, to 'bravely exist in this moment.' The tradition emphasizes the awakening experience: one lives as an awake observer, directly confronting reality, releasing clinging to past and future, and focusing on lucid awareness and contemplation of each present moment. A Bodh Gaya travel poster from the 1960s.

Photo: Pinterest Western rational thought systems, which tend to rely on logic and analysis in their exploration of the essence of things, sometimes view Eastern knowledge as mystical and abstract because it exceeds the bounds of reason and logic. Ancient Eastern philosophy, in contrast, often attains the essence through intuition and inner insight rather than through theory and logic.

Ancient Indian philosophy, however, has long viewed life as an unknowable mystery, not as a puzzle that analysis and explanation can readily resolve. Perhaps it is exactly here that life’s beauty resides. As an old Zen saying reminds us, “Not a single snowflake falls in the wrong place.” Each being follows its own rhythm and exists just as it is. Cultivating the heart and mind matters more than achieving enlightenment through knowledge. “Break free from preconceived notions and evidence-based judgments.”

In his diary, Matthewson observed that the enigma of the mountains comes from their pure and simple existence—unlike his own, which is not. The mountain holds no 'meaning' but is meaning itself; it simply exists. The sun is round. At the same time, the practice of carrying awareness of 'now' into all parts of daily life calls for accepting the exactness, openness, and intelligence of the present instant. An elderly woman is shown during the peak farming period. Photo: Pinterest

The precious insight Matthewson gained on this journey—likely the only one of his life—was that life resounds through his entire being, and the hills do as well, and that hearing this sound forges a shared connection. He understood this not through his mind but through his heart, recognizing the futility of attempting to capture the inexpressible. He also knew that when he later reread these records, his state of mind would have altered, leaving nothing but hollow words and symbols. However, even clinging to this realization proved useless.

Knowing full well that any attempt to preserve it is in vain, I am filled with sadness and look around, wishing to capture in this diary the precious feeling of Shey; just as I let go of the rocks in the stream, I must happily let go of this place's beauty. His travel companion Charle wrote a haiku: "The burdened cloud of Han, black claw marks in the snow, fleeting emptiness." And as it is said, "If you grasp at emptiness, emptiness becomes a barrier." Fish Tail Peak Photography: Khim Lamichhane Kazi Everything is here.

Frustrated as I am by how poorly words express things, I turn to my diary—yet one strand of wool, a single dry immortelle branch, holds more of Shey's essence than everything I have written. Trying to make permanent what I thought I understood, I failed to grasp the essential point." The human perception of beauty, or the conventionally accepted concept of beauty, separates it from ugliness; nevertheless, that separation is an illusion. True beauty comes from wholeness: a thing is beautiful because it is complete. Ugliness, when viewed through a holistic consciousness, is another manifestation of beauty.

In the same way that a lifetime encompasses every unavoidable condition and phase—youth, aging, sickness, health, vitality, and dullness—so too does a journey begin with leaving and advance toward coming back, and the beauty of a year's cycle lies in its shifting seasons. A holistic awareness ought to be nurtured. Matthiessen Photo: Pinterest Thus he remarked, "The yearning that drives people to travel is rooted in homesickness, and this journey to the Himalayas could truly be described as starting down the path home.

More than any transformation in physical distance, it is the crossing of spiritual obstacles that lets the heart become clear and pure again, giving the journey deeper and more important meaning. Sometimes, even after traveling a long way, a person's heart continues to look back, resists opening fully, and stays lost in a corner of gains and losses. 'Because catching a glimpse of one's true nature is a different kind of return.' Matthew's journey may be finished, but his journey as a seer is unending.

Just as water returns to the ocean a thousand times, he has understood that all things are united with the universe; caring for the survival of the whole, returning to his inner self, and letting intuition exceed cognition are all required, since everything lies within this. Translated from Dalu's blog, this article features the 1971 photograph "The Wanderer of Bokhara Valley" by Kahil Gibran.