I’m a big believer in running away to the mountains when life gets even slightly inconvenient.Every year since turning 30, I have found myself around the perennially snowy peaks of the Himalayas – close enough to the roof of the world. That’s an absurd stretch of a mile to find inner peace, you may think. However, I’m Indian and very much favour our stereotype of finding ourselves spiritually in the mountains or wilderness.There’s precedent for this. My paternal grandfather, after a heated conversation with my grandmother, would threaten to go away. Eyes half closed theatrically, and with the heaviest of sighs, he would declare: “I’m going to Kashi.” Varanasi, also known as Kashi, is a place of pilgrimage for Hindus, and a trip is recommended at the end of life to break the cycle of rebirth and attain salvation.Quite unsympathetic to his grand ambitions, I would remind him bluntly that with his limp from falling from one of our tamarind trees, he was going nowhere. My father was also prone to declaring that he was going away to join a monastic order – a plan my mother and I would fervently back.So it came as no surprise when the familial desire for spiritual wandering struck me in my 30s. Nobody raised an eyebrow when I quietly removed myself from polite society in my birthday month and disappeared into the mountains.Mountains rise above Nundkol Lake in the Kashmir region. Jennifer Gnana / The NationalShow caption: Mountains rise above Nundkol Lake in the Kashmir region. Jen…The first time I went away, I set the bar high. I was off to see Mount Everest – with absolutely no experience of hiking.The plan was to go halfway to base camp and stop at a viewing point for Everest. However, I barely made it past the historic town of Namche Bazaar, which sits at 3,440 metres above sea level. I had a throbbing headache that wouldn't go away. Shortly after I met a herd of yaks, I started seeing stars and collapsed into my guide Manu’s arms.I had come down with mountain sickness. I woke up the next day in an inn run by an elderly Tibetan couple to find my porter and Manu anxiously waiting by my bedside for signs of life. It was my birthday and while I didn’t get to see Everest, I woke up to a glorious view of the stunning peaks of Ama Dablam, standing tall at 6,812 metres.The near-death experience – I had spent my waking hours watching documentaries on people dying on Everest – did not deter me from returning to the mountains. It was only when I was down in the Kathmandu Valley, and the brain fog from altitude sickness had lifted, that I realised something.Carvings in Tibetan at the entrance to the Sagarmatha National Park in the Khumbu region of north-eastern Nepal. Jennifer Gnana / The NationalShow caption: Carvings in Tibetan at the entrance to the Sagarmatha Nation…I’m a practising Buddhist who follows the Tibetan path, and we believe in the existence of beyuls, or hidden valleys. These are vast spaces that are accessible through a portal completely invisible to the naked eye. During times of deep crisis, beyuls present themselves as refuge for Buddhists. The Khumbu region, which is home to Everest, is one such beyul. When the Sherpas fled religious persecution in Tibet in the 16th century, the Khumbu valley opened up, allowing the establishment of settlements such as Namche Bazaar. It is also believed that if you approach a beyul with an impure heart or if it is not your time, you will not be able to go through.The following year, I climbed Mount Sandakphu, which is 3,636 metres high, on the Nepal-India border. After six days of trekking, which featured tears and a hailstorm, I woke up to a panoramic view of Lhotse, Makalu, Everest, as well as the many peaks of Kanchenjunga – all of them 8,000 metres above sea level – the tallest mountains in the world.The peaks of Lhotse, Makalu, Everest and Kanchenjunga, seen from the Indo-Nepal border in North Bengal. Jennifer Gnana / The NationalShow caption: The peaks of Lhotse, Makalu, Everest and Kanchenjunga, seen …I spent our descent largely in silence, unable to believe my luck but also grateful that I had finally earned my place in the mountains. The Himalayas humble you. Not only are the peaks so inaccessible that you’re lucky to see them, but your cares and worries feel microscopic next to their immense stature. The ego death that Buddhists talk about happens in the mountains. It strips away illusions of grandeur, excess and ambition. The mountain gives you what you need and sometimes more.It has been 18 months since I was last near the Himalayas. I couldn’t run away from inconvenience and stayed firmly at sea level to deal with it. The Himalayas are also bleeding. Climate change and tourism are rapidly destroying their sensitive ecosystems. This summer, rather than running away as usual, I decided to do a spiritual weekend in the Hajar Mountains of the UAE instead. At 330 metres, they’re smaller than the hills in the Lower Himalayan region. My best friend and I had signed up for yoga, a metaphorical card reading and a group therapy session – spiritual glamping, in short. Goats, peacocks, tortoises and deer are some of the animals that live on the property at JA Hatta Fort Hotel. Jennifer Gnana / The NationalShow caption: Goats, peacocks, tortoises and deer are some of the animals …I kept thinking back to the last time I had been in the Himalayas. I was in Kashmir and trapped in an abandoned cabin during a snowstorm. We didn’t have firewood to keep warm. One of the guys ran to the nearest settlement and found some timber. We bartered cough medicine to an elderly woman in return. Mountain life is tough. While toughing it out for six days may give perspective, does it really change you?As we sat through our metaphorical card reading after a very indulgent dinner, I was wondering whether we would find answers. Tania, our guide for the retreat, came over and asked me to pick a card. It showed a woman standing on the edge of a mountain, going forward in motion. I smiled as Tania came over to help me make sense of it. Perhaps I didn’t need to run quite so far after all.