04/05/2026
I never thought something so small could feel so heavy.
In an ashram in India, I was asked to leave my passport at the reception desk. It was a simple instruction, said without ceremony, in the middle of a busy check-in run by volunteers.
But my immediate reaction was anything but simple.
I almost walked away.
I’ve carried that passport everywhere for decades. It sits close to me whenever I travel — not just as a document, but as a kind of safety net. Proof of identity, residency, belonging. Something I never, ever part with.
And yet there I was, being asked to hand it over in a place I didn’t know, in a country where everything already felt unfamiliar and intense.
It surprised me how quickly discomfort rose up. Not loud panic — but a deep, quiet resistance. Like my whole system saying: no, this is not okay.
There were only two choices: comply or leave. And I genuinely considered leaving.
But something softened in that moment. Maybe it was the distance I had travelled. Maybe it was the stillness underneath the chaos of the desk. Or maybe I was simply too tired to hold onto my resistance.
So I left it.
Just for one day.
And what I expected to feel — anxiety, unease, vigilance — didn’t really show up.
Instead, something else did.
Lightness.
A subtle easing in my chest. A sense of not having to carry something so close all the time. Almost as if the weight I didn’t realise I was holding had been quietly set down for me.
When I picked it up the next day, nothing had changed on the outside. Same passport. Same journey. Same identity.
But something in me had shifted, just slightly.
The kind of shift you only notice afterwards.
I wrote the full story here:
Letting Go of My Passport in an Ashram in India
(link in bio)
comment BLOG to receive the link.