I am burrowing.
I tend to do this every winter. For the longest time, I thought it was seasonal affective disorder. Then I moved to the California desert, which gets approximately 500 days of sunshine per year, and I realized I no longer have an excuse.
Now I’m starting to think it’s the natural rhythm of humans. Or maybe it’s just the natural rhythm of me — holing up, turning inward and building a cocoon before I have the energy to break out again.
What surprises me is that I have to still do this while traveling. I mean, here I am out in the world … I should be going places! I should be meeting people! I should be doing something!
Instead, I am void of ambition. I am mentally and physically broken down. I have some family issues going on, which leave me feeling vulnerable and imperfect. I am lonely and a little sad. Plus, I recently got over a case of worms and parasites, and the 17 mosquito bites on my face are only now starting to heal. I am exhausted.
So I am holed up at El Salam Yoga Camp in Dahab, Egypt.
This is where I am resting. I am jogging on the shore of the Red Sea. I am getting lost in hours of yoga. I am reading and catching up on writing and making confessions in my journal. I am playing with puppies and squeezing kittens. I am thinking.
I feel guilty about all of this, like I should be doing more, traveling further, volunteering for somebody somewhere. Instead, the biggest accomplishment of my day is making soup.
Dakini, the woman who runs this camp, gave me a little squeeze around my shoulders and assured me that I’m doing exactly what I need to be doing.
“Get strong,” she said. “You have to honor yourself. Realize that by helping yourself you are helping the people around you, and ultimately that helps the world.”
Soon, I hope I will find myself with the ability to move on and have more meaningful experiences and adventures.
But now, I am burrowing.
