Lost in the desert, found in myself
Summary: From Petra to the Wadi Rum desert: a journey of silence, Bedouins, and camels. Maybe you recognize this too: always “on”, overstimulated, searching for calm. This desert journey showed me how simplicity, nature, and presence can be healing for burnout and depression.
Wadi Rum experience & burnout recovery – After severe depression and years of overstimulation, I knew something had to change. Maybe you know this too: always busy, never truly recharging, your mind running even at night. For me, the desert in Jordan became the place to slow down. No notifications, no agenda, no Plan B. Just sand, stars, and silence. For you? This story is a mirror and an invitation: if you recognize yourself here, there’s room to choose differently.
This is not a classic travel guide. It’s an honest account of how silence, simplicity, and nature can help when you’re burned out or facing depression—with my journey as the frame, and enough anchors for you to recognize your own story in it.
Arrival in Amman: learning to face raw reality
Amman felt different right away. Unfinished houses, messy streets, dashboard cloths against the sun, unexpected police checks. For someone used to tight schedules and tidy neighborhoods, it was confronting. Maybe you know this: realizing your life is so organized there’s hardly room to breathe. First lesson: not everything has to be finished. Life is messy—and that’s where relaxation can hide.
We spent the night in a rural guesthouse. Simple, welcoming, and just enough. The next day we moved through Little Petra toward Petra. The gorge, the market stalls, the first steps—endless and uneven. My knees protested. Maybe you know this: your body sets limits while your mind whispers “keep going.” Still, I stood there, looking at rock-cut façades that have withstood for centuries what we face every day: time and expectation. It wasn’t my fastest hike, but it was my first step toward being present instead of performing. (I describe my route and tips in the sub-blog about Petra.)
Camels with Bedouins – a familiar sight in the Wadi Rum desert (YOOOVA).
Wadi Rum: silence, rhythm, and the beginning of surrender
After a second night in the guesthouse, the real work began: five days trekking through the Wadi Rum desert. “Valley of the Moon,” they say. It feels exactly like that: red and white sands, cathedral-high rock faces, silence that isn’t empty but full. Maybe you long for this too: having nowhere to be but in your breath and in the present moment.
- ✓ Silence & de-stimulation — Days without screens or deadlines. Your nervous system settles. Thoughts grow quieter.
- ✓ Rhythm — Walk–eat–rest–sleep. Simple, steady. In burnout, simplicity feels safe.
- ✓ Respecting limits — Climbing was fine; descending wasn’t always. I sometimes chose the camel route. Familiar? Choosing limits isn’t failure—it’s wisdom.
At the Bedouin camp, “simplicity” became literal. Dinner was Zarb: meat and vegetables slow-cooked underground over glowing coals, covered with a lid and sand. When the lid comes off, a smoky yet gentle aroma fills the air. We ate from large plates, with hands or cutlery—no judgment. Maybe you know how liberating it is when you’re not being evaluated, just allowed to be.
Climbing, descending, and the courage to choose differently
The desert taught me an uncomfortable truth: I don’t need the steepest route to move forward. With fear of heights and grumbling knees, descending sometimes felt like defeat. But it was an opportunity to choose my body over my ego. Maybe you know this too: the urge to meet expectations even when it costs too much. The day I chose the camels instead of the climb felt like giving up—until it felt like surrender. Trusting a different way forward.
On a swaying camel’s back I learned a new definition of control: not to master everything, but to move with what is. You give a cue, you go, and you don’t second-guess it endlessly. Maybe that’s what you need now: less forcing, more trusting.
View over Wadi Rum’s red dunes – silence and space for recovery (YOOOVA).
Falling ill, caring, and shared humanity
The heat, unfamiliar food, little sleep—my stomach quit. Maybe you know this: your body stops you right when your head wants to push through. We shared medicines and cared for each other. Not heroic—just human. In a performance society, we forget that vulnerability isn’t weakness; often it’s courage. The desert reminded me.
Gear that helped (but didn’t define the healing)
Good gear makes a trek safer and more comfortable. It reduces friction; it doesn’t replace the process. Small practical things can feel big when you’re already carrying a lot.
- Salomon Quest 4D – grip & stability
Reliable traction on loose rock and sand; supportive shank for long days. For me, it felt like safety underfoot when things got tough. - Tasmanian Tiger MIL OPS Pack 80+24 – expedition & carry comfort
For heavy loads and multi-day hikes. Military-grade build, smart compartment layout, comfortable carry system. - Tasmanian Tiger Modular Pack 30 (Olive) – daypack & organization
Compact 30L daypack for water, snacks, headlamp, and essentials. Lightweight, modular, quick access during climbs and desert stages. - Carinthia Defence 4 – warm & reliable
A warm military sleeping bag that made starlit nights bearable. For me, it became a symbol of shelter in the unknown.
25 km without a watch: flow in the “Valley of the Moon”
The final stage was 25 km. No app, no watch. Only horizon, breath, and cadence. Hard sand carried, soft dunes demanded everything. Presence arrived one step at a time. What we often look for in expensive courses, the desert gave for free: attention and calm.
The science of silence (short & practical)
- ✓ De-stimulation — Less input = lower cortisol. Your system shifts from “survival” to “recovery”.
- ✓ Rhythm — A simple daily structure calms the nervous system and increases capacity.
- ✓ Movement — Walking regulates stress, improves circulation, and creates mental clarity.
- ✓ Attention — Nature helps you focus: less noise, more space between thoughts.
You don’t always need another tip—you need an environment that makes it easy to feel what you need. For me, that was the desert. For you, it might be a park, a forest, or a simpler routine.
Why a desert journey can help heal burnout & depression
- ✓ De-stimulation — Nature and silence soothe overload.
- ✓ Rhythm — Walk–eat–rest–sleep restores focus.
- ✓ Body wisdom — Listening to limits prevents relapse.
- ✓ Boundaries — Saying no isn’t failure; it’s skilled self-care.
- ✓ Connection — Sharing the load makes it lighter; you don’t have to do it alone.
Does this resonate? In my sub-blog I share concrete preparation, pitfalls, and safe starting options: “Desert & recovery (burnout/depression)”.
FAQ
Is Wadi Rum suitable if I have burnout or depression?
For many people, yes. If you feel drawn to silence and rhythm, the desert can help. Start small, consult your practitioner if in doubt, and build slowly. See also:
desert & recovery.
What is Zarb with the Bedouins?
An underground cooking method with glowing coals and a rack with meat and vegetables, covered with a lid and sand. After hours, tender, lightly smoky simplicity emerges—symbolizing patience and trust.
Do I need “pro gear” to experience healing?
No. Gear supports comfort and safety; the process is about silence, rhythm, and listening. If you want to know what I used:
Salomon Quest 4D,
Tasmanian Tiger MIL OPS Pack 80+24,
Tasmanian Tiger Modular Pack 30,
Carinthia Defence 4.
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Closing: maybe you know this too…
Years later, the lessons from the desert still resonate. Maybe you know this: always “on”, always busy, never fully recharging. If that’s you, know you’re not alone. You deserve silence. Maybe this is your moment to find your own desert—far away or close to home. Wherever it is, it starts with one conscious choice for yourself; the rest follows step by step.
“In the desert, I didn’t find what I was looking for. I found what I needed: the courage to be who I already was.”