since touching back on native soil, i have barely had the strength to get out of bed. i am emotionally exhausted. depleted deep within. for the last few months, i’ve been caught in a seemingly endless cycle of heightened stimulation. swallowed into a current of ceaseless change and unrelenting chaos, entangled in so deeply in stories and lives belonging to other beings, that the lines began to blur between where i began and they ended. my heightened sensitivity left me feeling like a sponge worn thin. like i absorbed so much of others, i lost touch with my own truth. one week ago, curled up alone in a little air b n b in bali, a wave of homesickness washed over me as saltwater rivers poured from my eyes. i missed walking into a local grocery store and recognizing everyone by name. being wrapped in the arms belonging to dozens of familiar faces. i missed climbing trees and swimming naked in backyard rivers. i missed foraging fresh coconuts from roadside beaches, and losing track of time in a the simplicity of a sanctuary where the most exciting news of the year is if the one lane bridge floods due to heavy rain. i missed gathering herbs from backyard gardens and the warmth of stories spoken over home cooked meals. i missed being barefoot. i missed being free. i missed myself. and i’ve been trying to find my way back to her ever since. sometimes you can only love, what you have lost. i could see how sacred this island, this family, is to me, through letting her go. and i knew it was time. to return.