When planning a vacation, at least for me, a few images come to mind—of hiking through nature or lounging by the pool and reading a book while sipping a drink. But this summer was different.

My day job had extracted every ounce of my energy in the last few months. Moreover, I was living alone, and my wife was away caring for her ailing mother. I had so far thought of myself as an island, capable of surviving alone and taking care of myself and my mental health. But I was wrong.

I wanted to escape the chaos and rush that had enveloped me. Each night, I collapsed into bed, physically drained but mentally restless, craving a break from it all. As summer approached, I longed for a getaway. And no, not to another city. Cities are notorious for adding stress with their inherent chaos. I sought a different escape—one that would counter the mental exhaustion and stress that I experienced at work. That's when a friend proposed an option that, at other times, I would have laughed at.

"Why not go to this meditation retreat in the forest where they are redoing the place and help them build it," he suggested, "There will be many other volunteers, and you can join them."

The idea compelled me to think differently. A summer spent working with my hands in the sun sounded too far from the idea of a perfect holiday. However, I was ready to explore something completely different from my typical vacation. That's how I ended up at this retreat in the Black Forest, run by a group of volunteers. Some lived there permanently, while others, like me, gathered there sporadically every summer to help.

So, here we were, a bunch of strangers called in to help renovate this meditation retreat and its surroundings. I checked into one of the rooms with elementary facilities, which I had to share. The food was basic—no fancy, elaborate multi-course meals that I would have otherwise opted for on a typical vacation. But I wasn't here seeking luxury. I wanted to use my arms and legs and put them to work, which I used to only do while in the gym back home.

Each morning, we gathered for instructions from the retreat's leader, who assigned us different tasks for the day. The work rotated regularly, not only to prevent boredom but also to give us various experiences. My first assignment? Digging a pool.

I can't recall the last time I picked a shovel, and here I was, grasping the thick wooden handle with both my hands, lifting it up and striking it down on the soft earth. The earth gave in easily as if it had waited for a long time to be quarried. With each stroke, my mind began to quiet. The mental chatter that had plagued me for weeks started to fade, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the shovel hitting the ground. With every strike, the weight of my worries lifted, and a sense of calm settled in. All that mattered was yet another strike of the shovel and one more.