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Journals from the Jungle—stories from my recent travels, drawn straight from my journals. These reflections trace a return to an embodied, authentic self through nature, adventure, rest, and the unraveling of old beliefs. Along the way, I explore freedom, pleasure, love, and the strength that comes from shedding what no longer serves us—offered in the hope of inspiring a more vital, freely lived life.
2:30 a.m. I wake up and look for him. No. I feel so sad. But, I shouldn’t at all. It’s just a day, but I do—as if, or because, it could go like this. He could just quit me.
I sent his photo to my friend. She said, get out. You have the same smile. I’m not allowed to be heartbroken until he gives me a reason to be. Believe the positive fantasy, which is still just as real as the alternative. Trust the past.
I cry on the beach this morning because I see this place that I had yearned for so desperately, and I’m on it, in it. I walk home on the sky. I think: I was right. In this—not void, but froth.
I feel myself being a vessel for experience. These lows are what I put myself through in order to have the highs. It takes a lot of endurance, courage, pain, tolerance—but it’s worth it. It feels very helpful to recognize this moment as that.
By Explorations and expressions of naturalnessJournals from the Jungle—stories from my recent travels, drawn straight from my journals. These reflections trace a return to an embodied, authentic self through nature, adventure, rest, and the unraveling of old beliefs. Along the way, I explore freedom, pleasure, love, and the strength that comes from shedding what no longer serves us—offered in the hope of inspiring a more vital, freely lived life.
2:30 a.m. I wake up and look for him. No. I feel so sad. But, I shouldn’t at all. It’s just a day, but I do—as if, or because, it could go like this. He could just quit me.
I sent his photo to my friend. She said, get out. You have the same smile. I’m not allowed to be heartbroken until he gives me a reason to be. Believe the positive fantasy, which is still just as real as the alternative. Trust the past.
I cry on the beach this morning because I see this place that I had yearned for so desperately, and I’m on it, in it. I walk home on the sky. I think: I was right. In this—not void, but froth.
I feel myself being a vessel for experience. These lows are what I put myself through in order to have the highs. It takes a lot of endurance, courage, pain, tolerance—but it’s worth it. It feels very helpful to recognize this moment as that.