Issue 05: Reflections from Ladakh: On Expectations, Instinct & Understanding Your Creative Vision
It’s almost 1 am, but I’m leaning into one of my favorite quotes from Naval Ravikant: “Inspiration is perishable and must be acted on immediately.”
I’ve been back from Ladakh — yesss, I made it to the mountains of India!! — for about a week now. Life feels like it’s moving fast again, yet that one week in nature has left me reflecting on how much slowing down can help me grow. Slowing down created space to connect so many of the learnings from the past six months.
I tried to articulate how I felt just after I came back in this caption for an Instagram post:
There are certain trips that remind you of your connection to something greater than yourself.
Throughout my time in Ladakh, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything leading up to this point had somehow brought me here. Standing among sand dunes, beautiful mountains, vast lakes, winding streams, and fields of wildflowers, I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude. There were so many moments of complete awe. I was fully present, yet it all felt like I was living inside a dream.
This past week in the mountains also reminded me that dreams are worth chasing. Experiences like this are exactly why I chose to move back to India — to intentionally spend more time in nature and build a life around moments like these. It’s something I’ve been craving over the last six months, and now it finally feels like I’m settling at home!
While all of this is true, I’ve found myself coming back to two thoughts that didn’t make it into that caption. The first is something I thought I had gotten much better at: letting go of expectations.
However, I realized that… letting go of expectations is a lifelong marathon
I know expectations can take me out of the present. I’ve written about being present. I’ve practiced letting go. And yet, there I was, surrounded by one of the most beautiful landscapes I’d ever seen, still occasionally comparing the moment in front of me to the one I had imagined.
Interestingly, the locations I had researched the most left me feeling uninspired, while the ones I found spontaneously kept me creatively engaged for much longer.
Two instances come to mind.
The first was when I was photographing an area known as “Moonland” in Lamayuru. When I first saw it on the map, I got so excited that I had found a landscape similar to Death Valley — a place I often describe as where I discovered what excited me creatively. Yet, experiencing Moonland in person, I kept comparing it to Zabriskie Point. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t switch to seeing the landscape in a new way.
Reflecting on that day, I wonder if building up expectations around creating interesting images in this area actually prevented me from seeing it differently.
The similarity of the landscape that excited me ended up blocking me creatively.
Eventually, I stopped trying to photograph the scene I had imagined and started paying attention to the smaller patterns surrounding it.
The second instance was when I was exploring the famous Hundar Sand Dunes of Nubra Valley. Even as we drove into the area, I could feel my brain shutting down. Part of it was creative fatigue, but the other part was that the light wasn’t how I had expected it to be.
I had misjudged the time we needed to be in that area, and by the time we arrived, the sun was almost set behind the mountains. I couldn’t make the sand dunes work in the way I had imagined by playing with light and shadows.
Ironically, a rainbow appeared almost as soon as we arrived. But instead of reacting instinctively, I became preoccupied with finding a fully refined composition. By the time I was ready, the moment had passed.
I was so focused on finding the photograph I had imagined that I missed the photograph reality was offering me.
In both instances, I had to remind myself of something I had written as a guiding light for the trip:
Accept failure. You will grow from this.
As I photographed these beautiful landscapes, I was reminded that growth doesn’t always mean overcoming something once and for all. Maybe sometimes growth is simply noticing the same patterns within ourselves and choosing to respond to them differently each time.
The second thought that I keep on coming back to is … how important it is to find the words to communicate your vision.
We had a wonderful guide throughout the trip. He wasn’t a photographer, but he had incredibly deep knowledge of the local area. I would try to explain what I was looking for — whether it was shadows across the dunes, textures in the mountains, or simply wanting to stop along the road because something had caught my eye.
A lot of what I was drawn to wasn’t obvious, and over time there were moments when he understood exactly what I was looking for. But there were also many times when he would tell me that he was confused by what I was drawn to or that he didn’t understand what I wanted to photograph.
Every time he said that, I found myself wondering: Could I actually explain what I was drawn to?
So much of how I photograph is based on instinct. I know when something catches my attention. I know when a landscape makes me want to stop, take out my camera, and spend time exploring it. But knowing what I’m drawn to is not the same as being able to describe what I want to photograph and why I want to explore a certain location.
Why the textures instead of the entire mountain?
Why the shadows across the dunes instead of the rainbow?
Why could an unexpected scene along the side of the road hold my attention longer than a location I had spent weeks researching?
Trying to explain what I was looking for made me think more deeply about these questions.
There were also moments when I didn’t have the courage to ask the driver to stop the car. I would notice something that inspired me, but I didn’t act on it immediately. I would let the moment pass, convincing myself it wasn’t worth photographing, even though deep down I knew I wanted to stop.
Perhaps that was also a reflection of my own lack of self-belief. If I couldn’t fully explain why something interested me, was I confident enough in my own instinct to ask everyone to stop anyway?
On the last long drive through the valley, I was wrestling with these thoughts when I finally found the courage to ask the driver to reverse and stop by a stream surrounded by wildflowers. It ended up being one of the last scenes I captured.
I didn’t necessarily get "the shot". But standing there by the stream, surrounded by wildflowers, mountains, and wild horses, felt like a truly magical end to the trip.
All of this made me realize that maybe finding the words to communicate your vision isn’t only about helping someone else understand it. Trying to explain it can also help you better understand your own vision and build a deeper connection with your work.
I don’t think I came back from Ladakh with a clear answer to the “why”. But I did come back knowing I wanted to spend more time thinking about the “why”.
I’m still processing everything I experienced — and the many photographs I made along the way — but I’m excited to share more soon. I’ll be putting together a full trip report with reflections from my first photography trip exploring the mountains of India, as well as a new gallery of images from the journey.
Until then, here are a few of the Border Roads Organization (BRO) road signs that made me laugh during the many long drives through Ladakh.
Normal speed meets every need
When on road switch on safety mode
Break rules and break bones
Drive with a reason this holiday season
Accident brings tears; safety brings cheers
You booze you cruise you lose
Safety on road is safe tea at home
Tough times don’t last, but tough people do
Your silent whispers.. can move a mountain
Ice and snow take it slow
Donate blood but not on the road
Even normal speed can meet your need
Peep peep do not sleep
Lower your gear curve is near
If you sleep your family will weep
Drink and drive you won’t survive
Stay alive, think and drive
If you are married, divorce speed
Disconnect internet and connect to nature
Road safety rules are your best tools
Don’t be gama in the land of lama
Drive with whiskey is risky
It’s not a rally; enjoy the valley
If safety is your question, patience is your answer
On the bend go slow, my friend
Don’t act like a fool; follow the rules
Fast drive can be last drive
Alert today, Alive tomorrow
Eager to last, then why go fast
Speed thrills but often kills
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