Missed stop in the jungle

Imagine that you’re taking the bus in a foreign country and you’ve missed your stop. By the time you realize it, you’re already a mile and some change away from the destination. In a scramble, you ask the driver to pull over using hand motions since you don’t speak the language, and the driver lets you out on the side of the road. It’s 9 pm, and the road is surrounded by a jungle with no streetlights and very few cars passing by. As you get off the bus and begin walking up the road, you feel a raindrop touch your skin, then another, and another. It begins to downpour. You’re on the road by yourself, luggage in tow in sopping wet sneakers, walking for what feels like an eternity until you finally see a light. 

As the light approaches, faint sounds of music fill the air to accompany the rain.

Dark outlines of figures under the lamppost in the distance incite a shred of hope that compels you to continue forward. As you approach the figures, you discover it’s a group of young men, whose eyes are locked on you as you hike through the rain. The men whistle and yell to get your attention, but your head stays down, with dampened hope, you continue walking ahead. The rain begins to subside and you see more lights in the distance. Your back is beginning to ache from carrying the heavy pack, but you trek on. As you enter the town, a group of children run up to you asking if you’d like to buy souvenirs or drugs; again, you keep your head down and venture on. Finally, you come across a familiar looking door. 

You walk through the door and quickly remove your bag from your shoulders. You are greeted with a warm smile from a woman behind a desk prompting you to check in to the accommodation. You feel so relieved and comforted in this moment; the safety of the building, the ability to set your pack down, and a safe, dry place to lay your head for the evening. You are so content, there is nothing else you are longing for, and not once in that journey did you wish you had more. In fact, having even less would have made the journey easier. 

This was an experience I had in Central America, the type of experience that’s hard to forget, and for me, promoted a greater connection to what holds true value. 

Although I don’t carry a physical backpack every day, the weight of material attachments feels equally burdensome. The more I cling to material possessions, the harder it becomes to move forward with ease. A heavier load only leads to greater strain as time passes.

In that moment, taking only what I truly need allowed me to gain a deeper awareness of what genuinely matters to me. I wasn’t thinking about the things I had when I arrived, but the peace I was able to feel.  These little moments remind me of the many times I’ve hungered for more tangibles in my life, and how incomplete it can be to operate this way.

Thank you for reading

-Reina