Some philosophers find inspiration in mountains, such as Nietzsche, and some in caves, like Plato. Clare Carlisle found hers in a cave halfway up a mountain.
It happened 20 years ago: walking on a Himalayan path, she met a holy man who lived in a cave nearby. Not your stereotypical sadhu, he didn’t have matted hair and wasn’t semi-naked but wore nice trousers and an acrylic pullover. Nor did he have any obvious wisdom to impart; at the last of their three meetings, he and Carlisle mainly got stoned and giggled about the chicken-like patterns on a cushion she had brought him as a gift. Yet, after leaving, she felt a “yearning” for something that they had shared: a sense that there could be a more “noble” way of living, or that we could experience “transcendence”, a higher perspective on life.
