27 & 28 March 2025
Yesterday began early with a 7 a.m. yoga session led by a national-level, gold medalist teacher. Afterward, I showered, had breakfast, and met with the young manager at the center where I’d just arrived to volunteer. It became clear very quickly that we had different understandings of what a volunteer exchange through Worldpackers was supposed to look like.
I took a deep breath and listened as best I could to the vague expectations being laid out for me. One of Worldpackers’ key policies is to ensure both host and volunteer agree on clearly defined roles, boundaries, and duties. But here in India, listening often seems optional, and detailed explanations even more so. Most of my questions were met with the infamous “Don’t worry…” which, as any traveler here learns, often means “You probably should worry, but we’re not going to talk about it.”
Eventually, I was handed a laptop to help with their social media and retreat planning. I was also given the green light to begin painting a mural in the dining area. The wall’s old, faded paint made me hesitate, but I was told to go ahead, so I did.
As I sketched the first lines, I found myself still emotionally tangled from my nightmare of a bus ride just two days ago. Solo travel in India is not for the faint of heart. It’s intense, unpredictable, and pushes every button. Even though I’ve grown so much since my first trip here—and am much more grounded—this visit has tested me in ways I didn’t see coming.
Why has it all felt so heavy this time around? I’ve cried more tears than I care to admit, felt lost, homesick, overstimulated, even angry. Meditation and time alone in Jodhpur offered small insights, but nothing had fully clicked… until today.
While replying to a long voice note from my brother Joe, something cracked open. It’s hard to explain clearly, but anyone who has done deep plant medicine work might understand the feeling: you’re tumbling through layers of yourself—old wounds, broken beliefs, raw emotion—and then suddenly… clarity.
In that moment, it all made sense.
Every challenging person, every triggering moment I’d experienced since arriving in Delhi—wasn’t random. They were living reflections of deeply embedded beliefs within me. Beliefs I didn’t even know I still held. They surfaced now, one by one, through confrontation, discomfort, and emotional intensity. And just like that, I sobbed, deeply, and felt the storm pass. It felt exactly like the moment you “come back” from a medicine journey—body and spirit reunited, clarity dawning.
I smiled through my tears. Level complete. Upgrade received.
Later that evening, the owner invited me to attend a kirtan in Rishikesh. Excited and uplifted, I gathered my things and joined the car ride. Though I raised an eyebrow at the time—we left just before 7 p.m., and I knew most kirtans start at 7—I decided to release all expectations.
Naturally, traffic was a mess. At 8 p.m., we made a pit stop… at a burger café. I was told, “just five minutes,” which in India is more like an hour. By now, I was laughing silently to myself. Any kirtan we were supposedly going to had surely finished.
Finally, we reached a beautiful hostel in Tapovan. The room was glowing with energy and color. We caught the very last song of the session, but the atmosphere still buzzed with joy. On a blackboard near the entrance, someone had written:
“Freedom is not just about independence… It’s about self-discovery & self-realization.”
I blinked. Tears returned. That message—it was meant for me.
Tonight, I feel peaceful. Raw, open, but settled. I know that I am exactly where I need to be. I trust this journey. And for the first time in weeks, I feel like myself again.
