23/06/2026
My women solo journey to sit with the self, nature and darkness.
On the third day, I developed a fever and high temperature.
It felt as though I had walked through the gates of death and returned.
I thought they would send me back to the base camp, but instead they simply asked:
“What would you like to do?”
After all, I chose to stay. I was not sure about my decision but I do not want to just give up.
Most of the time, I drifted between sleep and wakefulness inside my small tent. I watched ants crawling overhead and listened to flies endlessly circling around me on the middle layers above my head. The nights were bitterly cold.
Surrounded by trees and darkness, I realised that what I feared was not the dark itself, but Nature—I am so disconnected to nature.
I wasn’t even sure what I was holding on to anymore.
The sisters brought me remedies and medicine for the fever and pain, yet they cared for me without intruding.
During my Vision Quest, I felt as if I saw everything and nothing at the same time. My sense of self and time became uncertain and physically really suffering.
My only comfort was hearing the distant drums from the camp at dusk. That sound told me another day had passed.
Nearby, I could also hear the drumming and singing of another woman on her own journey.
Everything became almost unbearable.
With my head pounding, I truly thought I am not sure how to pass another day.
But somehow, I made it to the final morning.
I packed all my belongings at speed like a snail. I watched the sun climb higher and higher in the sky. The time when I should have already been walking back to camp had long passed.
No matter how anxious I felt, my body simply would not move any faster.
By the time the sun stood high overhead, I finally lifted my pack and began the long walk back, stumbling forward one slow step at a time.
When I finally arrived, one of the women quietly came to stand beside me.
Without imposing, without trying to fix anything, she simply asked:
“Can I carry your bag?”
And in that moment, I burst into tears.
She gently took my belongings and then asked:
“Would you like a hug?”
It was such a simple thing.
That quiet, gentle presence.
That acceptance.
That willingness to simply be with me.
It moved me deeply.
