Lost in Paradise
The experience of being on vacation and fantasizing about not going home—staying in paradise indefinitely—is one many of us have had. But when that wish unexpectedly comes true, the shadow may fall between the fantasy and the reality.
The shadow is what 23 guests at Hinterland Village, a yoga retreat center in southern India, faced in March 2020. These guests arrived expecting a week or two of rest and rejuvenation while they practiced yoga, studied ancient philosophy and enjoyed the sumptuous organic feasts that were prepared for them. Then, on March 19, they learned they couldn’t leave paradise.
I imagine you remember exactly where you were when you first heard about the government’s shelter-in-place orders at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Most of us were close to home. We naively thought we’d be sequestered in our homes for two weeks until this pandemic business was sorted out.
The 23 guests who came to Hinterland from around the world thought the same thing. At first, they were elated to have their holiday extended. To make the situation even more ideal, owner Unni Thricovil announced he would not be charging his guests for their extended stay.
As the days became weeks, however, and news filtered from home that no one would be able to travel anywhere, the reality of being stranded against one’s will became clear. The guests discovered that freely choosing to stay in this lush and bountiful retreat center was one thing, but being held captive was quite another.
The mood at the normally tranquil and welcoming retreat center shifted. Whereas guests typically greeted each other warmly, often with hugs, they became reclusive. Many stopped attending yoga classes; almost everyone stropped hugging. The stress level was palpable. Guests could be seen compulsively checking their phones for the latest news—doomscrolling like the rest of us.
The mini society at Hinterland became a microcosm of societies all around the world. Some guests believed the pandemic was a hoax; others thought the end of civilization was near. They swapped tragic stories of health care systems being overwhelmed, families unable to be with their dying loved ones, bodies piling up.
To counteract the boredom and stress, Unni tried distracting his guests by introducing projects such as paper making and other crafts into the daily routine. He organized nightly sing-alongs. Some participated; most did not. Being in a remote location, the guests were free from virus contagion, but they weren’t free from the contagion of anxiety and depression.
After about a month, the guests began focusing on scarcity. Although Hinterland did not experience a shortage of toilet paper or hand sanitizer, personal supplies became scarce. One guest came perilously close to the end of his supply of the life-saving medication he had packed. Unni moved mountains to get the medication delivered from the U.K. to northern India and transported the 300 miles by taxi to Hinterland. Still this man remained tense and despondent.
After almost two months, the governments of the guests’ home countries began repatriation efforts. Slowly, a few at a time, guests were able to return to Australia, France, Germany, Switzerland; on May 23, the last guests departed for the U.K. They left feeling drained and only a few remained in contact with their host, Unni.
When I heard this story recounted by Unni, I began thinking about how I would’ve responded to being lost in paradise. I’d like to think that I would have been one of the few who rolled with the punches, who enjoyed my free vacation. But I know better–I have a human brain.
Our brains have been called anticipatory machines. We plan for the future believing that we’re in control of our destiny. Uncertainty and loss of control sends us reeling; the oldest part of our brain—the amygdala—is activated by the fear that uncertainty triggers. Staying present, then, is a struggle when put to the test, even when we’re practicing yoga and meditation under idyllic conditions.
Building a tolerance for uncertainty may require systematic desensitization, sometimes called exposure therapy. We don’t need a pandemic to do this; we can find small ways of experiencing not knowing. Consciously trying new ways of acting or thinking helps us build a tolerance for the unknown.
We can also strengthen our uncertainty muscle by using our prefrontal cortex (the part of our brain responsible for judgment and executive functioning) when the path forward is obscured. By identifying the problems in our lives that are figureoutable and those that are uncontrollable (such as global pandemics and others’ behavior), we can focus on finding workable (not perfect) solutions to those situations in our control.
Finally, the adage “be careful what you wish for” is worth noting while napping in a hammock in paradise. We may forget to pack certain essentials for an extended trip, but our anxieties and fears always seem to travel with us.
Note: Hinterland Village remained closed for two years after the last lock-down guest departed in May 202. Unni continued to employ his staff and reopened for business in the Spring of 2022.