![]() |
A stone wall on Jeju Island / Courtesy of Rachel Stine |
By Rachel Stine
I came to Jeju Island on Dec. 19, 2020. I was accompanied by my dog Miracle and the man I thought I would marry.
On Dec. 29, 2022, I left, alone.
During this time, I completed the Olle Trails, and healed three inner wounds I hadn't even realized I had.
The first was OCD. While it's a genetic curse I'll always carry, I've made a full recovery from my May 2021 relapse. I'm off medication. That may not always be the case, but I'm hoping the new hiking boots and poles will keep me active and help stave off the minor flare-ups that can evolve into relapses.
Modeling symptom management is important to me, because I also know I'm going to become a parent within the next few years. Whether I'm partnered or not, that dream is non-negotiable.
Finally, I'm going to honor the humanity of political opponents, even if that makes me a target myself. My integrity is more important than any career. I can't scream at people on Twitter all day and then face my reflection at Hyeopjae Beach.
Jeju itself is a festival of life and death. The Olle Trails remind us that our time on Earth is not a journey to live up to other people's expectations; it's a chance to honor every creature's first love ― Mama Universe. She is the only presence that remains with us from the moment of our birth to until our final breaths.
Now, hiking behind the tea museum, I'm no longer repulsed by a deer corpse's antlers sticking out of the grass. I appreciate decomposition as much as the fawns bounding across the golden fields at sunset. One cannot exist without the other.
We're all at different points in our journey. But we're headed to the same place.
Rachel Stine has volunteered in the North Korean human rights sphere for over a decade. Her writing has appeared in The Huffington Post, The Korea Times and other major news outlets. You can view nature photography from her journeys around the world at flickr.com/photos/rachelstinewrites.