Into the Heart of the Wild: A Pilgrimage to the Gorillas of Uganda

There are moments in life that feel like a homecoming—not because we’ve returned to a place we’ve been before, but because something ancient within us stirs awake. It's a sensation beyond nostalgia or déjà vu. It’s a remembering, a rekindling, a recognition of something timeless within our own being.

The days of travel leading up to our trek to meet the mountain gorillas of Uganda were filled with a quiet, pulsing anticipation. I knew we were about to encounter these magnificent creatures in their natural habitat—a dream that had lived inside me for years—but I couldn’t have anticipated the soul-deep impact it would have. There was an ache in me, not just to see these magnificent creatures, but to connect with something primordial... something raw and real and unfiltered.

This was more than an adventure. It was a pilgrimage into stillness, into intuition, into the wild, unspoken knowing that lives within us all.

Our real journey began with a small plane ride from Entebbe to Buhoma Lodge, nestled on the edge of the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. We arrived weary—drained by the bumpy roads, humidity, and elevation—but a good night’s sleep worked its quiet magic, and by morning we were ready.

That’s when we met our guide, Joy. Her name felt like a perfect omen: this petite woman

would be leading us to our assigned gorilla family. We soon learned their name was Kanywani, meaning “Friend” in the local language—a sweet synchronicity that softened the anticipation and made the journey feel even more aligned.

Our jeep rumbled along narrow gravel roads, carved deep by recent rains. We climbed steep hills and rolled down their slick descents, eventually reaching the trailhead—the last point accessible by vehicle. From here, we would walk. Joy informed us that the family had last been sighted about an hour’s hike away. Off we went.

The altitude made itself known quickly, amplifying the limitations of my already modest fitness. But the early morning temperature was kind. Once the sun crested the surrounding mountains, the forest heated up and sweat began to roll down my back. I resigned myself to a day of sticky discomfort—knowing the satisfaction of meeting the gorillas would greet me at the end, and that later at the lodge I would be rewarded with a fresh shower.

We paused at a small wooden hut with a restroom while Joy checked in with the trackers. No sign of the gorillas yet. She encouraged us to wait patiently there, where radio signals were strong, so the trackers could reach us when they had news. So we sat, chatting with a young local man selling handwoven trays and paintings, listening to pieces of his story as time stretched gently around us.

About half an hour later, Joy returned with a smile—our family had been found! And even better, they had joined another group since the last sighting. With renewed energy, we followed Joy into the forest, stepping carefully along a nearly invisible path. At times, she cleared the way with a few skilled swipes of her machete. The jungle floor was muddy from the rains, the ground uneven and studded with hidden roots and rocks. We moved slowly, descending into a quiet green valley, then climbing again.

But this was no ordinary hike. The deeper we moved into the forest, the more something in me began to unspool. The path wasn’t just a route—it was a ritual. A softening. Each step drew me further into stillness. Surrounded by towering foliage and the breath of the Earth herself, I felt something settle inside me. There is a kind of peace only wild places can offer. In that silence, my mind quieted, and the voice of intuition grew clearer.

Hiking through the lush, mist-shrouded jungle felt like entering another realm—one where the usual markers of time and identity fell away, and all that remained was presence. It was one of those rare moments in life where the external journey mirrored the internal one. With every step, I could feel a deeper part of myself returning—not to a place, but to a truth long buried beneath the noise of modern life.

At last, we reached a bubbling stream, where the trackers waited. They pointed out a makeshift bridge of stones, and we picked our way carefully across. Tracking gorillas is not about leading—it’s about listening. You follow signs, surrender to the terrain, and trust those who know the way. It struck me as a perfect metaphor: when we stop trying to force clarity and instead trust the path, our inner guidance will lead us—always—to what is most real.

In that moment, I felt it fully: this journey mirrored the heart of the Radiant Rebirth path—moving through the forest of transformation with trust, reverence, and the courage to follow our own wild, wise instincts.

We followed the trackers up one final rise—and there she was. A mother gorilla, resting on her stomach, her young one nearby. Her pose reminded me so much of my dog cooling her belly on the grass that it made me smile. It was such a simple, familiar gesture—one that dissolved the distance between species and stirred something soft in me.

Her feet were only about two feet from where I stood. Though their dark skin blended into her thick fur, their shape was unmistakably human. The resemblance was so striking, I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Something about their positioning, the absolute familiarity, held me in awe. I had to consciously shift my gaze to catch the way she interacted with her young—a gentle, unhurried rhythm of attention and care.

Soon, a silverback appeared, trailed by a few more youngsters. There was some unease between him and the other silverback from the neighboring group they’d merged with. Every so often, he’d rise to beat his chest in a thunderous display, a gesture both ancient and electric. The gorillas responded with excited chatter, but it never escalated—perhaps because the second silverback seemed entirely unbothered. These moments, though charged, felt like theater rather than threat—and we watched, spellbound.

I’ve always felt a longing to meet these beings. Not just to see gorillas in the wild, but to encounter them as ancient kin—as reflections of something wild, wise, and tender in myself. That deep desire—to connect, to witness, to remember—was fully met in their presence. They carried themselves with such uncomplicated grace. No performance. No masks. Just being.

At the same time, their constant movement meant they never settled for long. We craned our necks as a few of the youngsters scurried up into the canopy. And we also had to keep moving, traversing difficult terrain, even fording the stream again—this time without the aid of stepping stones. By the end of our hour with the gorillas my feet were soaked through my hiking boots and my face and hands were streaked with mud. But I felt euphoric. Changed. As if I’d slipped through a portal into another world. The physical challenge made the experience feel earned, like a rite of passage.

There was something in the eyes of one particular gorilla—calm, deep, unblinking. A wisdom. A grounded power. A total absence of self-consciousness. In that gaze, I saw a mirror of something unnamed in myself. Perhaps that’s the quiet gift of moments like this: they awaken parts of our inspired identity that have been quietly waiting—for the right mirror, the right silence, the right encounter—to be remembered.

Eventually, we returned to where we’d left our backpacks. Taking a long drink of water felt like waking from a dream. The trance had lifted. Our group, once buzzing with chatter, had fallen into a thoughtful silence. We sat together and unwrapped our packed lunches, digesting not just our food but the experience.

The climb back out of the valley was steep and slick, our final ascent demanding but doable. When we reached the jeep, everyone was ready for a shower and the promise of the lodge’s complimentary massage. But first, we made a final stop at the visitors’ center to receive our certificates—and to thank Joy once more for her calm, capable guidance through this unforgettable journey.

No, the transformational retreats offered by Radiant Rebirth don’t include an encounter with mountain gorillas—at least not yet. But what we do offer is something just as soul- stirring: the opportunity to return to a deeper kind of presence. The simplicity of being.

The sacred quiet that lets you hear your own truth again. The tender, wild longing to belong—to yourself, to others, to life.

This journey into the rainforest reminded me that transformation doesn’t always roar in with thunder. Sometimes, it arrives gently—in the hush of mist through trees, in the rhythmic fall of your feet on the forest floor, in a shared gaze with a being who doesn’t need language to speak to your soul. It’s in these moments that we remember who we are beneath the noise. We remember what matters. We remember that we are part of something ancient, wise, and whole.