The reality didn’t hit me fully until I was brushing my teeth after arriving home in an emergency 4-flight, 38-hour travel marathon. As I washed my face, rinsed my mouth out, and took a sip of the water dripping through my fingers, I broke down in sobs of gratitude for simply being able to brush my teeth with the water flowing from the tap. I had just awakened from sleeping deeply for over 12 hours straight.

Forty-eight hours earlier, I had been busily clicking buttons on my little iPad, desperately trying to find last-minute return flights to Asheville, N.C. I had initially planned to live in my favorite yoga ashram, just south of Goa, India, for a month of blissful yoga. But almost immediately upon arriving from Nepal, I felt an achiness and fatigue come over me in a hot, rapid flash as I succumbed to a full-body affliction. Not in the least bit surprised, but nonetheless dismayed, for once again, I was bedridden and feeling utterly wretched in a far, faraway land.

For two and a half days, I writhed painfully around on a hard, mildew-scented bed, nauseous, covered in sour sweat, and delirious with sickly dreams, occasionally plagued by a rational inquiry about just what in the hell I was doing there. Spending my days in meditation, ancient rituals, and the yoga I have come to love dearly was as far from my reality as I could have ventured.

The only thing I could think of to bring the slightest glimmer of hope to my mind was the thought of returning home and walking in the enchanted forest once again. And that was the moment I knew it was time to leave. Sure, I had only been in India for four days… a record-short trip… after the previous week’s magnificent journey, trekking through the Himalayan mountains of Nepal. In fact, I had not even experienced a whole day here and already was over it and longing for closure.

Sometimes, our wildest dreams are not what we imagine. This was my third trip to India, and every time I have become extremely ill. These haven’t been foodborne, bacterial, or even viral infections. Every time, it was a sickness of the soul, instigated by the resistance to the challenging environment. In the past, I have always somehow chosen the hard path, as if I had to learn my lessons as trial by fire instead of the path of grace and ease. India can be harsh. It is smelly, dirty, excessively garish and loud… and yet delightfully colorful, holy, and alive.

Lying there restlessly, I was hot and sticky, unable to find food my belly wanted to eat, and too anxious about the wild packs of dogs found, well, everywhere here, to venture off on any kind of relaxing walk. I was trapped in my mind without an end in sight.

I hit the button marked “CONFIRM” on the new flights leaving from the Dabolim International Airport in Goa, India, the next day, and then a miracle happened. I began to feel better. Not just better, but miraculously, instantaneously recovered, with only a fading memory of the past couple of days of the fitful, sleepy delirium that had descended upon me since my arrival. I felt better than good. I was going home.

The following morning, I shared with the others in the ashram that, yes, even though I had just arrived, I was indeed leaving that afternoon. As I spoke, an awkward smile revealed itself from the corners of my mouth. One of the first people I told exclaimed how inspired he was that I would even consider doing such a thing. And just then, I realized that I wasn’t so much running away from my discomfort… sickness… or my fears so much as that I was choosing to take care of myself. Could canceling my trip actually be the elusive Self-Care I was eternally seeking???

The longer I sat with the idea that I was following my heart and genuinely caring for myself, the faster the guilt and shame for leaving washed away. My dear friend told me he was so proud of me for doing what I wanted to do, even if it meant leaving before the weariness from the painstaking journey to get there wore off. As I repacked my bag and tidied my room, I felt a deep peace flow through me as I prayed to my angels and guides for an easy voyage home. I asked that my flights be on time and without hardships, that I encounter friendly, helpful people, and that I arrive safely in the U.S. with all my luggage and sanity intact.

Lo and behold, my trip home was everything I asked for and so much more. I had lively conversations with several interesting people along the way and had some of the smoothest travels I can ever remember having. Even returning unplanned on Thanksgiving Eve, the busiest travel day of the year, proved an effortless undertaking. Every one of my prayers was answered, and although 38 hours of travel is never easy on anyone, this was one of the most painless transitions I have made.

…

Upon further reflection in the short time that I have been home, I recognize now that it was the absence of taking my daily walk in nature that had me so completely out of sorts. As walking is my most profound spiritual practice, spending the last few days in Kathmandu, Nepal, before flying to India had me walking no further than the chaotic city streets would allow me to explore contentedly. Other than the days prior on the trek where I led my first international trekking group, my “walks” had been hectic and short and far from a Sacred Practice. You can take the girl out of the enchanted forest, but you cannot take the WildWood Magic out of the girl… Walking is truly my most profound medicine, and I am GRATEFUL.

[End of Part 1]

 

One of the only 3 photos I took on my short 4-day trip to India (The view from the main ashram building)