My sister gave me this diary when I was back in Nepal in October. It’s just a blank canvas, but the effort she made to find it and give it to me at this point in my life — that’s what matters.
I had been stressed since Friday. Spiralling thoughts were bothering me and I couldn’t sleep well. This morning I woke up with a strange feeling in my body, no clear plan, but a quiet certainty that I needed to do something. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I had to get out.
I was looking at my bookshelf, hoping something would pull me in, and that’s when I found the diary. I opened it and started asking myself one question: where do I feel most alive? That question solved a million dollar puzzle. I made up my mind of solo hiking.
There’s a jungle (Forêt de Fontainebleau) near Paris, about 55km from where I live. I packed my things: sandwich, water, power bank, a RedBull, rain coat, the diary, and a pen. I left early. During the commute I planned the route, and I’ll be honest ChatGPT did most of that work. I asked it to plan a 25km hike, it suggested three stops and estimated five hours. I followed it. I’m not someone who naturally takes care of these logistics, so I’m glad about it.
I started hiking around noon and entered the deep jungle. The weather was cloudy and I could hear the crackling of trees. Several had already fallen along the path. I was scared genuinely scared one might come down on me. But as I kept moving, the fear slowly faded.
The spiralling thoughts came with me into the jungle. So did the stomach ache I had been carrying all morning. But step by step, something shifted. I started trusting the nature around me, trusting that it wouldn’t harm me. I passed young couples, old people, retired folks, people with dogs, young guys on bikes. I was not alone in there.
The dogs were harder. Every time one came toward me I quietly moved to the other side of the path. I know they were harmless, but I’ve feared dogs since childhood, a mad dog bit me once, and something from that has stayed. I’ve tried to get past it. Not yet.
I followed Google Maps to the first stop, then deliberately strayed from the path and went deeper into the jungle. At the end I had made a rough irregular loop. It was unplanned and it felt right.
Along the way I felt very alive. When I got lost in thought I pulled myself back to the sounds, the trees, the birds, the mushrooms, everything around me. For some people a winter jungle might look ugly. I love that part. A bare tree with all its leaves dropped and its branches exposed, there is something deeply honest about that. We don’t live our lives always on high. There are times we look exactly like that tree. Nature doesn’t hide it. It just keeps going.
Even for a few moments, it made me remember that I am alive. I am breathing. I am walking. I am aware.
At the end I hiked 22km without stopping. I took a detour through the city afterward, found a good place to eat, and strolled around Fontainebleau palace. On the way back, I felt lighter. Turns out, I know exactly where I feel most alive.