Personal Development

Bound To Bali

I already knew how this story was going to end.

But before I give it all away, let’s go back to the beginning. Where it all started with a book. And a lot of fear.

As I said before, it was so much more than a book. Buying that Lonely Planet- Bali guidebook was a step. And, as I also said before, we all know that sometimes one small step can really be one giant leap.

Every step closer I took to Bali I was also stepping closer towards my fears. The closer I got, the more anxieties I confronted. I was scared of everything from airports, to crime, to monkeys and rabies, sickness and injury. I was scared of getting lost. I was scared of language barriers. I was scared of being unsafe. And that’s really the root of all anxiety- not feeling safe.

So, I arrived in Bali with a load of fears and anxieties, and a list of things I wanted to experience.

I’ve already mentioned many of my fears (and that was just the short list), so now I will share my list of things I wanted to experience:

-Meet new friends

-Make serious, heartfelt connections

-Have great conversations

-Laugh

-Dance to music I love

-Help people

-Romance

And that’s just the shortlist.

I put “meet new friends” at the top of the list because that was probably what I was most interested in- forming deep, meaningful connections with other humans. That is one of my favorite things in life. But when I first arrived, still with many anxieties in tow, that desire was met with the fear that I might not end up meeting anyone.  But then people started showing up (or maybe it was me that finally started showing up).

I answered a Facebook post that led me to the door of The Brit and The Mini Brit. But that door was more of a portal. Because once I stepped through it, my world opened up in so many ways.

I’ve mentioned that The Brit came to Bali to do a two month “health program”, but really I was just sugarcoating the fact that she was doing a personalized, holistic addiction recovery program. It was less sugarcoating and more to protect her privacy. But now that I’ve gotten permission from her, I can be a little more candid in my storytelling. She was working with a former addict named Scott, who I’ve mentioned used to live in the small area in California where I live. He’s working on building a retreat center in Ubud to take his holistic program to the next level.

It was through Scott and that program where The Brit met The Other Brit, who became a regular fixture in our house (and hearts). The Brit and The Other Brit would attend meetings, with The Mini Brit patiently tagging along. Afterwards, I would meet up with them, and often many of the other meeting attendees, at the café next door to where they meet. And I have to say- recovering addicts might just be some of my favorite kind of people.

These are people who are really facing their shit. They are getting real and raw and doing the gritty work towards triumphing over the darkest parts of themselves in a way that I am not used to seeing from most people.  And it’s so fucking beautiful and brave and god damn impressive. There’s no way I can look at them without having massive amounts of respect.

What many of the people I met showed me is that when you truly, truly put yourself first, when you take care of your health and wellness, and get really real and uncomfortably honest with yourself, you actually become much more genuinely available for others. I’ve known this, and I’ve experienced it, but only from the inside out. I was now seeing what that looked like (and feeling what the felt like) from the outside in.

One of the people I met in those groups was a guy named Steve Wofford. (By the way, if there is any question about exposing their anonymity, I have gotten permission from everyone to use their name and story). Steve is another American and another first time traveler. Except he didn’t just travel to Bali, he moved there! I think within about five minutes of talking with him I made a friend for life. We completely understood each other’s way of thinking, so naturally. There was no need to explain our references or break down our language. We just got it. And several times he made various references to living in Truth, so he’s definitely one of my people.

Steve is a coach and an entrepreneur, who coaches entrepreneurs. Specifically entrepreneurs in recovery, though he may be branching out his demographic. I’ve seen what he does, and this guy- you guys- he could be the next Tony Robbins or Brendon Burchard. Except he never will be, because he is the first Steve Wofford.

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Our goodbye dinner. Though we never actually said “goodbye”. We said, “we’ll be in touch” and “I’ll see you when I come back”.

I only ended up meeting him a week and a half before I left, but we managed to build a strong, meaningful, and super supportive friendship in that time.

My last week was a bit tough, because I was thoroughly exhausted from the Writers Festival, I had to move house due to the person whose room I was renting was returning, and The Other Brit was taking off for six weeks to do an intensive yoga teacher training in Nepal. She was departing just three days before I was. So, it was a week of staggered steps of parting ways with people I care about and a place that I loved.

But the upside is that I ended up moving back to the place I stayed before I moved in with The Brit and The Mini Brit. I was actually booked to spend a couple of days in that beautiful spot I told you about– the compound of the medicine man from Eat, Pray, Love. But I ended up cancelling that reservation. Yep.

The compound only had 2 nights available anyway, which meant I would’ve had to move during the Writers Festival, then again a couple days later. And the place cost twice as much as the house I was in. I didn’t need to be out of the house until the 1st. So, after careful consideration, I decided to stay put and only move once.

As I went to cancel that reservation there was a small part of me that did think about getting the chance to actually see a place from inside my favorite book. But besides everything I said about not feeling the need to get any closer to that book, the place I reserved was not the place in the book. It’s obvious that the place I reserved is only as beautiful as it is from all of the money that poured into it because of that book. I can almost guarantee that is not the same place Elizabeth Gilbert experienced.

So, I cancelled my reservation, with no real regrets (I can always stay there next time, if I feel like it). I stayed in the house with The Brits a few more days, then I moved back to the last place I stayed, which was right in the center of town. And surprisingly it felt a little more peaceful and quiet than the other house that was a little more removed from town center.

The other good thing about that place (besides getting more of those green banana pancakes) is that it was right next door to the tour company where my friend Made works. So, whenever I went out, I would pass him, or his friend Wayan, whom I also got to know a little, and I’d either say hi as I passed by, or stop and hang out for a while. It was nice to have a cheerful pit stop right next door.

And remember that artist, whose paintings I bought and I wanted to be his friend, but then found out that maybe he was lying about his art? Well, the more art stalls I saw, the more I did actually see people working on similar paintings. It’s just that many of them were pretty much replicas of everyone else’s. Though I did find one guy whose art was different than most- and it was pretty incredible.

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An artist’s work in progress. Beautiful stuff, hidden away in a far corner of Ubud Market. I loved the big one behind him on the right.

Seeing people actually painting, helped me to see that the guy I bought from probably did paint the ones I bought, and being back in that spot where I first met him, I ended up running into him again a few times and he was just as sweet and adorable as I remember.

Giving me the thumbs up that he sold some more of his paintings

Giving me the thumbs up that he sold some more of his paintings

It was a really good choice for me to return to that space, and spend my last week there. And it will most likely be my landing spot when I go back.

Once I settled into that new spot, and the fact that I was leaving soon hit me, I embarked on a bit of an emotional and anxious roller coaster, thinking about having to go back to California, and having to say all my goodbyes to so many wonderful people.

My anxieties (as well as insomnia and sleep deprivation which are common manifestations of my anxieties) had significantly dissipated while I was in Bali, but knowing all that I would (and wouldn’t) be returning to in California triggered them again . The few abusive relationships I still have left in my life, the unavailability of most people around me, the collective anxieties and stress which is American life, and the uncertainty as to how I will make enough money to get back to Bali within the next year (or ideally six months), stay for much longer, and build the life and career I want for myself on top of it all- these were the thoughts that were keeping me up at night (and that’s just the short list). Yeah, I was a bit anxious.

After one particularly bad night of insomnia, I took a lazy day to myself and just hung around my room for most of the day, lamenting over having to leave. From my balcony I watched the palm trees sway and listened to the street sounds of Ubud- until I reached a point where I felt like I wanted to go out and BE with Bali. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, but I just felt the need to be out in it. So, I remembered when I arrived, how I just let myself go where I felt pulled and decided to walk out my door and see where Bali was going to take me.20161103_151456

When I passed Made and his friend Wayan, I lamented about not wanting to leave, and they reminded me, “don’t start living Monday already or you won’t get to live today.” Somehow those words have more meaning coming from a Balinese person.

I found myself being pulled toward Monkey Forest road, which of course eventually led to the Monkey Forest. The road curves around the city and so I figured I might just walk it in a loop, but when I got to the Monkey Forest entrance I felt pulled to go inside.

I love the city of Ubud, but there is definitely a lot of hustle and bustle to it. In California I’m used to hiking in the woods pretty frequently and I realized that the whole time I was in Bali I hadn’t really gotten out of that hustle and bustle much.

Even when I did get out of the city center I was on motorbikes or surrounded by people. I wasn’t able to just go at my own pace.

So, I paid my entrance fee and very slowly wandered into the Monkey Forest.

There were still tourists there, but tourism had significantly decreased after my first couple of weeks in Bali, and I found a sense of peace amidst the trees that I really yearned for. I also enjoyed the monkeys.

At one point a monkey jumped on my back and managed to get into my backpack and steal my lip balm! The irony is that I went into the forest to appease my anxieties, so to find myself literally with a monkey on my back felt pretty symbolic.

I could’ve stayed in there for a couple more hours. It was so enchanting and there were so many incredible statues and walkways to discover. But I was due to go meet The Brit and The Mini Brit to say our goodbyes to The Other Brit on her last night in town.

We had a tearful last dinner where The Other Brit bestowed me and The Brit with sweet little Buddha bracelets and touching handwritten cards.20161103_185408

The bracelet went well with the one I was already wearing. It was given to me by a funny little dude I met, who worked at one of the warungs I had lunch at. He read my palm and tried to convince me to marry him. He was sweet, and funny, and totally full of shit. It was obvious he said the same thing to all the white women, hoping somone would take the bait. He talked my ear off the whole time I was there and I thought that I might have trouble getting myself out of there. But two other young white women approached him, admiring his bracelets, and as I backed out of the circle and said goodbye, he barely acknowledged me as his attention clearly had new targets. It was pretty funny.

So, I put The Other Brit’s Buddha bracelet on, alongside the one I was wearing. I thought I might want to get a few more similar bracelets like this, before I left, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of only wearing ones that were gifts.20161107_164518

The four of us finished our dinner and said our heartfelt goodbyes… and then there were three.

The day before I left, I wanted to have one more truly Balinese experience, so I went with Scott, The Brit and Mini Brit, and one other sweet man whom I met that day from the recovery program, to Tirta Empul, a Hindu water temple, famous for its holy spring water, where we partook in the prayer ritual at each water spout.

At one of our stops on the way, I got into a really great discussion with the sweet man who was with us, about addiction, recovery, addicts, doing the work, and what’s really important in life.

The thing about Ubud is that it almost feels like you are living in a self-help/personal growth conference. So many people were visiting from elsewhere, many on some kind of retreat or training. Health and wellness are the social norm, and entrepreneurship is kind of necessary. And it was so refreshing to be able to have so many fulfilling discussions with so many interesting people.

It’s not that there isn’t partying that happens there. I saw plenty of what I refer to as “Bali Bros” wandering around with their Bintangs and cigarettes. But most of the partying was happening in other towns and cities. Ubud was a much more sober place. Or maybe that was just the space I was in and what I attracted to me.

Speaking of what I attract. I didn’t find myself a Balinese boyfriend or get to kiss anyone. But for a moment I thought there was a chance for romance, or something close to it, with The Handsome Indian. We ran into each other at the Writers Festival and spent some good time together there. He also lives on my favorite street, which I wandered down almost daily, so we ended up running into each other quite a bit there as well. Plus we went to the trash cleanup together again, and the game night afterwards, and I was really enjoying the time we were spending together.

But the night I thought something more might transpire between us, I overheard him telling his friend that he was dating someone else. I don’t even know how I heard it either. The words just seemed to ring out above the social chatter, even though the volume blended in with the rest of the noise.

I felt like we were developing a really lovely connection up until that point and there was absolutely no indication that he was dating anyone. So, hearing him say that delivered a swift punch to the gut. And it stirred up a lot of shit for me (which is almost always a good thing, but almost never pleasant).

I felt like such an idiot. How could I have misread things so badly? And how I am I still attracting unavailable men? I wasn’t even trying this time! What am I still not learning? (I will say, at least the unavailable men I attract these days are really wonderful and interesting people, as opposed to the abusive deadbeats I used to attract to [with some exceptions of course]).

I slept on it and realized that I didn’t misread anything. I was possibly misled, but that might not even be true either. I only heard a tiny snippet of what was said. I don’t know the full story. I don’t even know if I heard correctly.

Maybe what he has going on is undefined and un-serious. Most of us have dated people casually and kept our options open while we figure out what is going on. That’s what dating is. You try dating different people and when something starts to gain traction you stop dating all of the other people. Maybe this was just a less formal, more organic version of that process (and since it’s Ubud it’s probably vegan and gluten-free too).

I would never knowingly try to get together with a man who is already involved with someone else. I wouldn’t do that to another woman, and I wouldn’t do that to myself. But the absolute Truth is that I don’t know what the situation is.

He truly did not seem like the type of douchey sleaze that would try to start something with someone when he is already with someone else. From what I got to know of him he seemed like a really grounded, genuine, good person.

And man, he gave good eye contact. Which is a huge deal to me, because eye contact is such a baseline for intimacy, and the last guy I dated almost never made eye contact, even in our most intimate moments.

So, I deliberated- do I continue to pull back, knowing what I kind of sort of might know? I checked in with myself, with my Truth, and my integrity. And the answer was that it’s not up to me to do the work of figuring out what his situation is. It’s his job to communicate whatever needs to be communicated.

I don’t have to try to make anything happen with him either. I can simply let him know my door is open. The rest is up to him.

I then realized that maybe what I have to learn from the situation doesn’t have to do with who I’m attracting, but how. Maybe it has to do with my past patterns of overcompensating for other people’s lack. See, me basing my actions on something I kind of overheard is actually me doing the work of gathering the information and assuming his communication, then taking the action (or inaction) based on something I don’t even totally know for sure. That doesn’t mean ignoring what I might have heard either. It just means remaining neutral until I know the full story.

So, although we did have some really lovely moments together, nothing ended up happening between me and The Handsome Indian. And maybe nothing more was supposed to happen between us, at least at that point in time. Maybe he showed up when and how he did for me, not just for the lesson I had to learn, but to simply remind me of what it felt like to have someone look me deeply in the eyes like that- and see me- in a really authentic way.

It’s probably for the best that nothing happened anyway. This was all unfolding the week before I left. I wanted romance, but had something happened between me and him (or anyone else for that matter), my trip would’ve become about an “us”, and this was an experience that really needed to belong to me, and for once not be all about someone else.

Besides, who knows what’ll happen when I go back.

We ended up saying our final goodbyes not in person, but in a really sweet message exchange. And at the very least we have a very lovely friendship.

On my final night in Bali, on my way out to get some food, I stopped by Made’s tour company to make arrangements for a ride to the airport. He had the day off but the young woman who booked the arrangements for me was really sweet. We got to talking and when I requested that Made be my driver, she asked how I knew him, and I explained to her how I became friends with him there.

I don’t even know how it happened, but she and I instantly became really good friends. I think it might have had to do with her bringing up finding me a Balinese boyfriend. I didn’t even have to tell her how attractive I found the men there. She brought it up!

She was really sweet and spunky and funny. Her name was Tiary. We chatted and laughed for a while . Then I asked if I could add her on Facebook and she insisted that we take some pictures together. She got me to pose in playful ways that I don’t normally pose in. We had a lot fun together, and she even adorned me with the rice that is part of the prayer ritual- on the top of the head, between the eyes, and on the throat, for purity of thought, purity of sight, and purity of word. Or something like that.

Then she excitedly told me to arrive early before leaving for the airport because she wanted to fix my hair Balinese style and make me “so special” before I leave.

On my way home that night, I had one last goodbye to say, and that was to my “Balinese Glam Squad” Koma, Desa, Ketut, and Wayan. I guess I should interject here and say that all of the names in Bali are the same. I forget that not everyone knows this. You are named in order of birth. If you are first born you are Wayan, second is Made, third is Koma, which Made informed me I was saying (and hearing) wrong, it’s actually Komang, and fourth is Ketut. There are some other names as well, depending on what social class you were born into and what year you were born. I guess in the eighties they added more names. But in all cases, it’s still in reference to birth order.

So, I stopped by the spa and Komang and Desa were the only ones there. We gave each other big hugs and I told them I’d see them next time I was in town.

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Komang is on the left, Desa on the right. Such sweethearts!

The next morning when I checked out of my room, the man who ran the place gave me a small, carved, wooden box, to thank me for returning and for staying so long. I guess most people only stay there for a night or two, so they were happy to have me for a whole week this time. It was such a sweet gesture, and it was so Bali.20161107_113456

I went into my bag, and I grabbed that Lonely Planet guide book. I didn’t get much out of what was inside that book, and there was nothing in it that I couldn’t google. But what that book really did for me was get me to take a giant leap.

I was done with it now. I didn’t need it anymore. So, I handed it to him and asked him to give it to another guest who might need it. I don’t know if that book will have as much meaning for anyone else as it did for me, but I pray that whoever’s hands it falls into next, it leads them to something beautiful and life changing.20161107_091744

I brought my bags downstairs and sat myself on the little stool behind the counter of the tour company. Tiary had brought a bunch of extra flowers for my hair, and gifted me a hairclip that she said I have to bring back to Bali someday. She combed my hair, even though I warned her that I don’t brush my hair and my hair might break the comb. But it stayed intact. I really had no idea what she was going to do to my hair, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure if I would like it. But I actually loved it! She twisted and turned and entwined bunches of my hair, and clipped it back, pinning the fragrant Frangipani  flowers to the side. Turns out, Tiary was much more of my true glam squad. I loved it so much! And I really, truly did feel SO special!

Then she taught me how to do the daily ritual prayer and offering, and again putting the rice to my head, third eye, and throat. It was the absolute best send-off I could’ve gotten. Then Made arrived and Tiary and I gave each other a big hug and have continued chatting on FB since I’ve been back, including making plans to cook together when I return.

We loaded my bags in the car, and off we went.

When Made and I finally arrived to the airport, it was so hard for me to say goodbye. I didn’t want to leave! We hugged, took one last photo together, and I wished him and his family love and blessings until next time I come back.

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Love this guy!

All of my friends who were living in Bali full time said that they really felt that I would be back. But the person that meant the most from was Made. Because he was actually Balinese.

I absolutely love both the western culture there and of course most importantly the Balinese culture. But unfortunately I do feel like in Ubud the western culture overshadows the beautiful Balinese culture quite a bit (I am already contemplating how I can contribute and give back in a bigger way next time I go there, as to negate my western impact). So, I am sensitive to my western presence and when Made said that he sees so many people come and go, but he really feels like I’ll be coming back and staying for a while, it meant a lot to me. It was like he was giving me his Balinese blessing.

As I said, I arrived to Bali with a load of fears and list of things I wanted to experience.

I was scared of monkeys, but I ended up getting the monkey off my back.

I was scared about money, but I actually got a lot more comfortable, confident, open, and loving in my relationship with money.

I was scared of losing my luggage, but ended up getting rid of a lot of baggage.

I was scared of getting lost, but ended up finding an even deeper sense of self.

I was scared of language barriers, but I ended up amidst a community of people who really spoke the same language as me, as my soul.

I was scared for my safety, but I ended up feeling a deeper sense of safety there than I have felt since, well, I can’t even remember when.

I wanted to meet people, laugh, have great conversations, and make truly heartfelt connections, and I was doing that up until my very last night there!

I wanted to dance, to music I love, and I got to do that at the closing ceremonies of the Writers Festival..

I wanted to help people. The Brit told me that I taught her many little life lessons, which meant a lot to me. I also got to help clean up some of that beautiful island (which was less impactful in the act itself as it was teaching the children and old farmers about proper waste management).

And here’s a moment of uncomfortable honesty for me. Part of why I wanted to take this trip was because I was hoping I might find love. It’s totally cheesy, but it’s true. I’ve been single for a really long time, and even though I love being with myself, I’m really ready for a partner. Overall (with some exceptions of course), I have been very unimpressed, disappointed, and discouraged with my options in California. So, I thought, maybe if I go to someplace completely new I might find love. Maybe if I face my fears and do this for myself- this thing that I’ve always wanted to do, then as a reward, I might find love.

Well, I’ve done enough spiritual work, and I’ve seen Under The Tuscan Sun enough times to know that sometimes what we want might not show up how we thought it would.

I did get to experience a grand romance. It was with the island of Bali itself. And I did find love- with a Brit, a Mini Brit, and an Other Brit. I found love every time a Balinese person looked me in the eye and smiled. I found love in the hot, sticky air, and the warm breezes in my hair. And of course, none of that love was really outside of myself. It all came from within me.

And I knew, from the day I bought that book, that this is how the story would end.

I left California bound for Bali. I returned to California bound to Bali.

 

~Maktub~

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Writers and Coffee and Gays, Oh My!

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post. Part of the reason, ironically, is because I attended a writer’s festival last weekend, and it really took a lot out of me.

When I first contemplated this trip, and bought my Lonely Planet guidebook, I was pondering what time of year to go. October was what felt right. So, I looked in the guide book to see if there were any special events happening in October, and lo and behold, there was an international writer’s festival happening. The Ubud Writer’s and Readers Festival.  That was a clear sign. So, I planned my trip for the month of October (which then became part of September and November as well).

Yet, I did not buy my ticket for the festival. I thought I might volunteer, because anyone who knows me knows I love to volunteer, plus it would save a chunk of money on the ticket. Yet, I did not apply to volunteer either. This is what I do. Or don’t do.

Actually, scratch that. Change the language. This is what I used to do. One of my forms of self-sabotage. I’d hem and haw, procrastinate (i.e. push things further away), and in the end, make it all much harder on myself.

So, I hemmed and hawed, and deliberated for five months– from the conception of this trip until a few days before the event. Then, finally, I had a moment with myself when I thought about how good the experience would probably be for me, and reminded myself of the fact that I decided to come in October because that festival showed up… and now I was really thinking about not going? Old patterns die hard, and before they do they can be quite cunning.

I looked into volunteering again, but I was too late. The application was closed. So, with loving support from the The Brit and The Other Brit, reminding me that this would be a gift to myself and an investment in myself, I charged the ticket to my visa card. As soon as I did that I realized how silly it was for me to consider not going.

And the theme was “Tat Tvam Asi”, Sanskrit for “I am you, you are me.” Which is so fitting for me

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I’m so glad I went. The funny thing about events like this is that I usually go into them looking for inspiration from others, waiting for someone to say something that pushes me in a certain direction, but often what I get out of it is not anything that anyone else says, but a yearning to be a part of the conversation. Hearing questions asked to the speakers and really wishing I could be up there chiming in my own answers. Because I have something to say. And I have valid responses to people’s questions. And that is a pretty clear indicator to me that I truly feel like I belong in that role. Not from a place of ego, but from a calling, deep inside me.

There were a lot of incredible Writers, Speakers, and change makers that I had the privilege of seeing. And a lot I missed because they conflicted with other panels I wanted to see. But there was nothing that anyone said that shifted anything for me. It was what I had to say, and the yearning to say it that brought me closer to my role as a Writer.

But I still must mention some of the highlights of the event. My absolute favorite was a guy named Mayank Austen Soofi. A gay Indian man with a personality akin to Sophia Grace from the Ellen show. I have not read a word of his work yet. I tried to buy his book at the festival, but it sold out (so happy for him!). That tells you how much people loved him. He was hard not to love. He had the most pure, raw, joyful, exuberant, and magnetic personality. I really wanted him to be my friend.  Readers, please check him out!! I plan to get his book when I get back. He is a special soul and he deserves support and success!

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I really wish I had gotten a better picture of him

 

Another favorite was the award winning writer, Mitchell S. Jackson, who wrote a novel based on his real life journey from crack dealer to Writer, and Professor at New York University and Columbia University. I swear my affinity had nothing to do with finding him attractive, and my weakness for brown skinned men. Of course not.

I absolutely love real stories of people transforming their lives.  And from the book excerpts he read, it seems as though there’s a rhythm, almost a beat, to his writing, which is quite intriguing to me as well. Plus, anyone who knows me knows that I find the brain to be the sexiest part of the body and intelligence is a huge turn on, but I swear my attraction to him (and based on the way he looked me up and down, I think it’s safe to say the attraction was mutual) was purely professional. Yeah, totally.

My one other favorite part of the festival actually had nothing to do with writing. It had to do with something very close to many writers. Coffee. There were many food booths there, and one coffee booth hidden way back in the corner. My first few days I wanted to caffeine up before I arrived. But on the last day I just wanted to go straight to the festival and decided to get coffee there. I am so glad I did, but so bummed I only discovered this place on the last day.

Coffeenatics is a coffee company out of Sumatra. These guys came from Sumatra to Bali just for the festival. And they were not only one of my favorite parts of the festival, but some of my favorite people I have met on this trip.

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They were the best!

I walked up to the booth and one of the guys immediately said, “You look good! I like your style.” Motioning his finger up and down in the air. Now, I’m a smart, intelligent woman, a deep thinker, a spiritual being. I believe I have a lot of wisdom and insight to offer the world. I also carefully picked out my flowy Balinese outfit that day. So, it made me really happy to have my efforts recognized. After all, fashion is still a creative process.

That was a nice way to begin our interaction. Then, as I waited for my coffee to be made, I walked into the grassy area to discover a lovely, peaceful hammock, just waiting to cradle me. When I imagined coming to Bali I was hoping there would be a hammock involved at some point, when I exclaimed about the hammock the Coffeenatics said, “Go lay in the hammock! We’ll bring the coffee to you!” As if they hadn’t already completely won me over! The only thing that could’ve topped that would’ve been if they started fanning me with a giant banana leaf. I officially loved them at that point.20161030_101659

I lay in the hammock for a few minutes, but at that point I actually was more interested in hanging with them then hanging in the hammock. So, I left the hammock and sat by them for a bit. They then offered to fill my water bottle with cold water, which is a big deal for a several reasons. Hydration. Hydration is important, especially for us whities who aren’t used to this heat and humidity. Trash is a big deal here on Bali. And it really sucks to have to keep buying plastic water bottles. (That was my one real complaint about the festival- they need water refilling stations). So, it was awesome to be able to get my water refilled and not waste another plastic bottle. And it was cold! Most refillable water is in big 5 gallon jugs that of course aren’t kept cold. So, cold water is a bit of a luxury. Oh, and there was lemon in it!

Did I mention the coffee was good too? I visited them again later in the day and had my lunch over by them. In the big scheme of things I only spent a short amount of time with them, but I felt like I instantly had new friends, and they made me want to go visit Sumatra, and of course stop by their café when I do. That’ll be the next time I come here.

As far as the rest of the festival, there was a slew of intriguing writers, and amazing activists. It felt really good to be in such an intelligent environment. Some other people to highlight:  Suki Kim, the investigative journalist who lived undercover in North Korea (for I think 2 years?). She is the only person to have ever lived undercover in North Korea. But, because she is a woman, her book is marketed as a memoir and given a pink cover. I’ll just leave it at that.

There was Shandra Woworunto, a survivor of human trafficking. And holy shit. That woman is amazing. After all of the horrific abuses she experienced, she has triumphed with a bright, beautiful, positive spirit.

There was Baz Dreisinger, a New Yorker who has worked in prisons all over the world and does a lot of prison-rights activism. She was so fucking intelligent I just enjoyed hearing her brain make words.

There were some really great auxiliary events, some free and some extra charge. There were workshops, children and youth programs, movie screenings, speaking engagements and poetry slams. I attended the main festival  poetry slam with The Handsome Indian.

The event opened with an Australian Muslim hip hop group. I was excited and had high hopes because I thought their mission was pretty cool (to spread awareness and break the shame and stigma of being Muslim). I had wanted to find some hip hop since I arrived. But unfortunately I didn’t think they were that great. I still give them credit for doing what they do.

The poets, however, were fantastic! It was so marvelous getting to hear people from all over the world bring all kinds of poetry to the stage.

Another highlight for me, which deserves honorable mention, was actually one festival speaker’s partner. I attended an evening event, which was advertised as something way different than it was (there were a few of those). The speaker was pretty boring, but at the end, when he introduced his partner, that was worth it. His partner was bold Balinese man wearing a plaid sarong, platform heals, a huge wide brimmed ladies hat, t-shirt, blazer, and fanning himself with a hand fan. God, I loved him. I wanted to take a picture, but I didn’t want to be disrespectful. Remember I said I wanted to find my gays? (By the way, The Brit turned me onto a spa run by a couple of flamboyant Balinese gays, so I’ve been getting my pedicures there. If there is anything better than just any Balinese person, it’s a flamboyantly gay Balinese person).

The festival ended with a big closing ceremony celebration. I was so tired and worn out from that festival, it was really hard to drag myself out to that last event. But I’m glad I did. That hip hop group performed again, a little better this time, because they had a more of a party crowd vibe to play off of (but still not great). There were fire dancers, more poets, the most adorable MC’s who made me feel like I was at something between a high school rally and an Asian variety show. And then, to close the night, they brought out a band called The Soul Brothers, which I knew would make me happy. I was so low energy I didn’t think I could get myself to dance, but then they played Cosmic Girl by Jamiroquai (my obsession band from 2001-2006) and I couldn’t not dance.

If I don’t like the music then I don’t really enjoy dancing that much. But with the right music, it’s one of the best feelings in the world. And I’m not sure if it’s physically possible for my body to not dance when Jamiroquai comes on. Plus, one of the things I really wanted to do on this trip was dance, and I managed to remind myself of that when I was thinking about how tired I was. Just dance, my soul whispered.

They played all kinds of other disco hits, a couple more Jamiroquai songs, and closed out the night with Jungle Boogie, which was probably the most fun song they played.

The second the music ended I was out of there though. I got a ride home on a motorbike taxi with the sweetest older man, named Wayan, who enthusiastically recognized me from the last time he gave me a ride home (I did not remember, which is rare, but he knew where I lived so I guess he was right). He exclaimed what a good arura I have and how I bring good energy to Bali. He gently held my hand to his heart when he dropped me off and I put his number in my phone for when I need another motorbike ride somewhere.

I’m really glad I bit the bullet and went to that festival. It was an investment, and not something I will ever regret spending the money on.

Next year I will apply to volunteer early though.

There is so much more I have to say about my experiences over the past couple weeks, but for now I’m keeping this post just about the festival.

Today is my last day here in Bali, and if I don’t get to a blog post before I leave, I’ll have plenty of time at airports and in flight to get some writing done.

But for now, I’m off to meet up with The Brit and The Mini Brit for one last Bali experience.

~

There was also some incredible art as well.

Don’t forget, you can see more of my pics and video on my Instagram page.

Environment Matters

My houseplant taught me something, right before I left for this trip to Bali. I was doing my final plant watering before leaving and I noticed how happy my fern is in its current spot. It gets just the right amount of filtered sunlight for it to flourish. And it dawned on me: environment matters.

A cactus cannot grow in a swamp, and a lotus cannot grow in the desert. Environment matters.

This was a bit of an aha moment for me, because until then I had been telling myself, for so long, that “wherever you go there you are,” -which is totally true, but… environment matters too.

And that thought has traveled with me across oceans and continents to accompany me here in Bali.

From the moment I arrived, I’ve wondered what’s going happen when I get back to California. All I could think and all I can think is that when I try to reach people, 90% of the people I talk to will be “too busy”.

And I simply do not have the energy to chase people around and beg for a timeslot in their schedule.

Many of these people I love deeply, and their circumstances are not solely on them. I mean, shit, with the OBSCENELY high cost of living in California (especially the Bay Area), everyone is swimming against the current. But I’ve worked too hard and spent too much time designing my life around having time and space for my loved ones. So, to still feel like I have to chase people in order to have a relationship with them is beyond my capacity at this point. And it’s taken me ‘til now, here, across oceans and continents, to get honest with myself about it.

I’m not thinking of any one person in particular, I’m just speaking generally. I carve out time in my schedule for what I call Relationship Building and Maintenance, and I can think of very few people who do the same. Most of the people I carve out time for- to check in on, to see how they’ve been or what they’ve been up to, I would easily go six months to a year or two without hearing from them, unless I contact them. Except, of course, for the percentage of those people who only contact me if they need something from me (even if all they need is to hear themselves talk to me).

And don’t get me wrong, I love being there for people! But there needs to be balance and mutuality. If all I am to someone is: there, for them– then what kind of a relationship can truly be had?

Different relationships require different levels of attention and energy. I have plenty of mutual friendships where the give and take is the same and we still only manage to see each other every few months. That’s fine, and it works. Then there are people who I put so much energy into, and still only see them every couple of months.

I’m not looking for constant contact, or for people to revolve their lives around me. And I’m certainly not interested in anyone feeling obligated to put energy into a relationship with me. That would probably feel just as shitty.

I know this is not something personal. This is not something that people are doing “to me“. It’s just that they don’t have the time and space for this person that is Me. So, I’d rather put my energy into people who do have the time and space and energy.

It’s unfair to both of us (whomever the ‘us’ may be) if I try to wedge myself into any little slot of someone’s time. Because really, in doing that, I’m lowering my own self-respect, which is not an authentic way to live and love, and it’s not bringing my Truth to the relationship. I’m putting more on their plates instead of looking towards people who have room on their plates, and invite me to their feast. Wedging myself into someone’s schedule, and therefore life, also enables The Other to continue taking people for granted. And do I really want to spend my energy wedging myself  into someone’s life? Wouldn’t it be better to simply open my arms and be met by another pair of opened arms?

I have cultivated a truly beautiful community of truly incredible people. I love my friends, just about as much one can love. But no matter how incredible they are, I can no longer carry the weight of my relationships. I have been down that road way too many times. I’ve cut out so many people from my past because of this very same issue (combined with them just being toxic people).

So, I am coming to terms with the fact that I may not have the same relationships when I return. This does not mean I am cutting people out, disowning, or closing the door. It just means that even the thought of how much energy I spent on people (especially in comparison to how little they spent on me), is exhausting.

So, I’m not going to do it. I will no longer work so hard to get a piece of other people’s time.

And this does not mean I don’t love them. In fact, it is going to be very difficult for me, because I love them. I love each and every one of my friends so, so much.

But I can no longer over-give and show up faster, further, and more available than others show up for me. I have to take a step back, and only give as much as has been given to me. Otherwise, I am just depleting what I have to give.

I will return to California with new boundaries and start looking elsewhere for people who can really understand and live this with me.

There is absolutely no love lost. The love is all still there, it just could not flourish in that space. So, the time and energy must be allocated elsewhere.

It’s time for this lotus to bloom.lotus

A Day In The Life

When I told people I was going to go to Bali for six weeks, I was often asked, “Are you going there for vacation? Or some other reason?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. I really don’t like the word “vacation.” I use it, just because I know that’s what people understand, but I still really do not like the word. It suggests the need to vacate, and I whole-heartedly believe in creating a life that I don’t need a vacation from. For the most part, I’ve been succeeding at doing that too.

So, my reason for coming to Bali for six weeks was simply: to live. To experience the world in new ways, to experience life in new ways, to experience myself in new ways. I didn’t know what I would do when I got here, where I might go, what I might see. I just knew that I wanted to get to know something completely new.

And that’s what I’ve been doing. I’ve been living. In Bali.

When I arrived, as a first time traveler, everything seemed so different and unfamiliar. The longer I am here the less different it appears and the more familiar it feels. I’ll admit, the town I am staying in is very westernized, so that lends itself to familiarity, but I also think I’m just settling into the flow of things here. And I really love it.

In California I felt frustrated a lot of the time because it seemed like everyone I talked to and everywhere I turned I would hear the words “too busy,” or some variation of that. Honestly, those words kind of make me cringe even thinking about it. I got so tired of hearing “I’m so busy!” Granted, a lot of people are busy with positive things, like building a fulfilling career for themselves or raising a beloved family, but too often I felt like too many people were too busy just being busy, and not actually Living. And too often “busy” can be a form of escapism.

Of course everyone has times where they have a lot going on and can be pretty busy, but when “busy” becomes a way of life, it seems like one is just begging for burnout, if not something much worse, like a terrible illness or a total meltdown .

And if it’s not being busy, the other thing that I got really tired of was alcohol consumption being such a major part of the lifestyle. I guess living in wine country (and now it’s beer country as well), one could only expect that routine alcohol consumption would be a part of the living there, but I got really fucking tired of it. I love a nice drink once in a while. Hell, I love having a few drinks once in a while, but when alcohol is accompanied by anything else you do, and is a part of everyday living. Every. Day. It really wore on me. Especially after spending so many years surrounded by so many raging alcoholics. I longed for a community that didn’t revolve around alcohol.

So, I am happy to say that sobriety and healthy living is more of the norm here than partying, or having a drink with every meal. Maybe that’s partially because alcohol is really expensive here. A weak, light beer might only be less than $1.50usd, but a cocktail costs more than a meal. Forget about hoppy microbrews, you won’t find any. And the wine is shite.

I mentioned in my first Bali blog post that as soon as I got here I wanted a cigarette and a drink. That faded pretty fast. The idea of smoking seems so gross in this humidity. Although I will admit, I wouldn’t mind having a couple of cold cocktails with some friends, but the irony of that is that a lot of the friends I’ve been making are focused on sobriety. And that is a welcomed change for me. I’ll usually choose the clarity of sobriety over inebriation any day. So even though a nice cold cocktail sounds good, I am perfectly happy staying sober if it means having more authentic connections with special people.

Along with sobriety and healthy living being a part of the norm here, a lot of people I meet are also working in or working towards similar ways of making a living as I’m working towards. Lots of entrepreneurs, solopreneurs, wellness practitioners, and people wanting to help others live happier, healthier lives.

I’m primarily talking about the western culture and expats, but even a lot of the Balinese folks I’ve talked to have the dream/goal of starting their own business.

So, it feels really good to be here. I’ve been meeting some beautiful people and having some wonderful experiences, but I’ve also just been in the flow of daily living, and that in itself has been special.

I’ve been developing a really great friendship with the Brit and the mini Brit, as well as with the Other Brit who lives in a different house. They are all special souls, and that’s really the only way I can think of describing them. Special souls, and I do not belive it to be a coincidence that we were all placed in each other’s lives like this. I am truly grateful to be getting to know each of them. We spend quite a bit of time together, whether it’s been swimming in the pool, meeting up for dinner and frozen yogurt, or going on some beautiful outing like the Full Moon ceremony I told you about, or visiting one of the water temples.

The Brit and the mini Brit are only here til the end of November, and the Other Brit lives here. But it’s hard for me to think of parting with any them. Thank God Truth for Facebook.

As much as I love the westerners that I’ve been meeting, I try to get to know Balinese people whenever I can. Last night I saw my friend Made at the tour company and hung out with him and his friend Wayan for about an hour or so, just talking and hearing about life and customs in Bali.

Bali is a very special place in many ways. The weather here is paradise, the tropical trees and flowers are heavenly, the food is delicious, the air smells like incense or flowers at most times, the scenery is breathtaking, very often a dove or a giant butterfly will just flutter across your frame of vision like magic. But, by far, my absolutely favorite thing about Bali is the people.

The Balinese people are extraordinary. You know that distinct feeling you get when you fall head over heels in love with a new lover? When a Balinese person smiles at you, it’s like getting a quick shot of that feeling, straight to the chest. Especially the older people. I swear they have Disney sparkles in their eyes! They are so magnificent!

It’s even more special because, in California, eye contact and smiling at a stranger is often perceived as either an invitation, or a threat.  I’ve really missed simply being able to smile at a stranger without feeling like I would then either get hit on, or receive the stink eye.

But just like everything and everywhere, there is a shadow side. There is a very interesting juxtaposition here in Bali. The air may smell like incense and flowers at almost all times… until you get a huge whiff of sewage or traffic fumes.

The people are gorgeous, but there is some corruption and you have to be careful that you don’t get taken advantage of. Most people won’t, but just like in the States, it could happen.  Like, remember the guy who sold me that incredible painting that came from his heart? Well, I started looking inside a lot of the many shops and market stalls selling art, and a lot of the art looks just like the stuff he sold me. So, either he didn’t at all paint them, or he did and it’s just replicating a style. It’s ok though, I still love it and think it’s beautiful, it just has less meaning, because it doesn’t feel like it authentically came from his imagination.

The traffic may be unruly, but there seems to be a system to it, and it doesn’t seem like there are a lot of accidents, relatively speaking. By the way, I’ve been learning how to navigate crossing the crazy traffic here pretty well. It’s like playing real-life Frogger. Though sometimes, if it’s especially bad, I may end up walking a block past where I’m trying to get to, until I feel it’s safe to cross. Then I’ll either turn around and go back to where I need to go, take a long walk around the block and make a lovely detour of it, or just decide to go someplace different than I had planned. More often than not I manage to get across just fine.

And when you get out of the bustling town centre, the scenery is like you’ve stepped inside of a dream, but if you look in the ditches, they are filled with trash. I’d thought about wanting do some clean up, or somehow be able to contribute more to the community here, because it’s all so beautiful- the land and the people- and even though tourism brings a lot of money into this area, I’m guessing, relatively speaking, of the total sum of money that comes in, a very low percentage actually makes it to the Balinese people.

So, I’d been brainstorming and journaling about wanting to do something to help out. Remember how I said you get to witness my synchronicities in real-time? Well, I never said a word about my yearning to help to anyone, but one of my other house-mates happened to send me a Facebook invite to a trash clean-up day! Every Wednesday evening at 5:00pm.

When Wednesday came along, there was that small part of me that wanted to talk myself out of doing the trash clean-up. Or at least put it off til next week (where I could easily put it off until the week after that, then not end up doing it at all).  I was feeling a little ungrounded that day anyway. I noticed that I was starting to get a little complacent in my routine of going to get coffee and breakfast at my favorite café, then just hanging out there for a couple of hours until I felt called to either wander around, or go back to the house for a swim. I wasn’t branching out much and I wanted to see a little more of Bali, besides Ubud center.

I kept reminding myself that I needed to continue practicing leaving my comfort zone and facing my fears, no matter how small and easy to sweep aside they may seem. Like when I finally got my money changed! Which I’ve done a few times now (and it was seriously no big deal, and totally legit).

Part of my apprehension came from needing to get a motorbike taxi to get out to where the trash clean-up was happening. I could’ve gotten a car, but it’d cost twice as much. I was nervous about another motorbike ride. I’d only been on one once, that night of the full moon. And that was with a woman whom I trusted because she was a friend of a friend (and little did I know she’d become a beloved friend of mine as well). Getting a taxi would mean having to hold onto some stranger and hope that they would drive safely.

But I did it, and I’m really glad that I did. I found a guy, negotiated a price, and he drove very safely. I must say, pretty much every Balinese person I’ve ridden with has been an excellent and safe driver, so I can see how the disorganized traffic works.

He was very nice and he knew where to take me. We drove down one of the city streets, leading out of the centre, and soon we were amidst those magnificent rice fields that I had only seen in the full moonlight. When I got to the trash clean-up meeting spot I paid him and parted ways, heading into this huge, beautiful café that was still a work in progress. I was early, because I figured better early than late. So I ordered a virgin pina colada and sat at a little table with the most incredible view of the rice fields.

When I arrived in Ubud, I expected a quaint, serene village. I did not expect a constant buzz of traffic and tourists. This place, about 10 minutes outside of town, was everything I’d ever imagined Bali to be. And I couldn’t believe it took me so long to see it!

I hung out in a state of awe until the rest of the crew arrived. There was a middle-aged Aussie woman, a handsome Indian man, a young Canadian woman, a Spaniard woman, a couple of young I think they were Japanese ladies, a couple of Balinese folks, a few Balinese children, and the most beautiful old Balinese farmer. He definitely had Disney sparkles in his eyes.

It was such a gorgeous experience! Wandering through these lush landscapes, picking up so much trash (yet not even close to enough), knowing that I am doing my small part to help preserve the beauty of this magnificent place, hearing the children laugh and chatter, seeing women in their finest ceremonial clothing wandering around the country roads with their heads stacked with trays of fruits or baskets of goodies of some sort,  getting little love shot after love shot from each of them as they blessed me with their incredible smiles.

Since the trash clean-up is every week, it’s only about an hour long each time, which is just enough to get some loads of trash, but not tired yourself out too much in the heat and humidity.

I had asked the Aussie and the handsome Indian earlier if either of them would be going back to Ubud and if I could get a ride. It worked out that the handsome Indian was going back through on his way to a friend’s house, so when it was time to go I hopped on the back of his motorbike and rode back through the rice fields right as the sun was starting to set.

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So dreamy!

 

Once again it was like a dream. With the warm wind blowing through my hair, the sky turning a soft shade of pink, palm trees lining the horizon of rice fields. There was nothing to feel but immense gratitude.

As we got closer to town the handsome Indian said that he was going to a gathering of expats for a game night and invited me to join. All I wanted was a shower. I felt so gross and sticky. I proudly wore one of the “Trash Hero” tee-shirts, but it was over my tank top, which means that I was wearing double layers on an especially hot and humid day. But I debated in my head- it’d be good to do something new and meet more people. But… SHOWER. Plus, the introvert in me wasn’t sure if I was up for any more social stimulation.

I eventually decided that I could take a shower any time, but I might not get to meet these people or have this experience and it’d be good for me to do something new. So I told him I was up for the game night. And again, I’m glad I did.

Yet another thing I’d craved (and lacked) at home- game nights! Game nights used to be a regular part of my life back when I was surrounded by raging alcoholics, but in the past few years, game nights have been few and far between, and I love a good game night.

We got to his friend’s house and hung out in his beautiful open air living room and had a lot of fun.

The next day (which was yesterday), I was feeling so good about the day before, and realized I wanted to see more of those beautiful country villages, and get out of Ubud a little more. But I wasn’t sure how I would go about it. Ask my housemates? Ask my new Indian friend? Grab a taxi? Or a shuttle to somewhere a little further away? Book a tour with my friend Made? I knew at some point I wanted to see one of the water temples, so that was on the list, but there are so many choices. I didn’t know, but I planned to spend the day at home hanging by the pool, relaxing, writing, and thinking of where I might want to go the next day.

Then, yet another synchronicity… I was hanging out in the pool with the Brit and the mini Brit, when the Brit asked what I was up to for the day, leading to the question of if I wanted to join them on their outing to the water temple. Well, there you go!

The Brit is here in Bali doing a personalized health program with a guy named Scott, who actually used to live in pretty much the same town in California where I live. So, the Brit and the mini Brit rode on their motorbike, and I rode on Scott’s motorbike, and we made our way to the temple through all kinds of beautiful little villages and rice fields. Scott even was able to give me some information and history about some of the villages, and because I already kind of knew him from the house, I felt more comfortable actually holding on to him. He also graciously offered me his helmet which I really appreciated.

It was yet another unplanned for, magical day of really experiencing Bali.

There are so many of those moments here. Like, a few days before the full moon, I turned down a normally busy street, but it had been blocked off for some ceremony, which involved some traditional dancing which I found incredibly beautiful. I was just on my way to coffee.

It really is a truly special place here. You think it, speak it, ask for it, and if you are in Truth with it, it appears. Even the Other Brit, just had a really wonderful job opportunity show up for her today which couldn’t have been better for her and couldn’t have shown up at a better time. It’s just as splendid getting to witness these moments when other people experience them as it is when I experience them.

And I absolutely love that the people who come here all seem to seek a certain way of life, and seem to truly being “doing the work” that I really relate to and seems so much harder to find in an authentic way in the States.

So, I’m putting my own questions out into the Universe, letting my Truth carry them to the Balinese winds, and asking for my own prayers to be answered. Like, y’know, getting paid to write, for one. Ahem!

In the meantime, I just try to bring myself back to the moment, check in with my Truth, and embrace the immense gratitude I feel every day here.

Here are some more sights and scenes from my life here. I am unable to upload video to this page, but you can see videos and other pictures on my instagram page.

Full Circle

10/10

I was staring at the incredible view from the hot mineral pool. Elephant fountains shooting hot spring water from their trunks. Majestic. Absolutely majestic.

And all I could think was, “I did this.

I could thank God, The Universe, Truth… Oprah- whatever you want to call it. God, The Universe, Truth did not “do” this. God The Truth just is.

I did this.

I brought myself to this IS.

Our experiences are results of co-creating with The Universe Truth. We have to place ourselves into Truth.

My Truth is that seven years ago today I was supposed to get married. And it never happened.

The not happening, was one of the best things that ever happened to me. That marriage would’ve been the death of me. It almost was.

And in that almost death, I found my life… my light. And I decided to take back the date 10/10. It belongs to me now. And every year, instead of lamenting over what wasn’t and what isn’t, I celebrate what IS- the Great IS that came from it all… the Truth that was revealed.

Somehow, in my almost death, when there was nothing left of me, I managed (with some help) to find  myself atop a volcano. I was broken and scared, desperate and devastated. But that was the moment I began to heal, to become whole (something I never was).

It was a long road from that volcano top. And now, seven years later, on the day that I reclaimed, I am once again atop a volcano. The sun is rising and the light ascending. But this time I am whole and happy. I stand atop this volcano in all my glory, my power, my greatness, my love. The Earth’s core, and mine, alive inside. I have come here not to seek what I cannot find, but to know myself in this way.

God did not do this. The Truth did not orchestrate it. This existed. And I brought myself to this place. Here. And now.

I did this.

Next Level

Since arriving in Bali, and writing about my experiences, my blog stats have shown way more readers than usual. Like, way more! Apparently people enjoy reading about exploring a tropical paradise much more than they enjoy reading about intense personal development, facing (and exposing) parts of the self that most of us don’t want to face (much less expose), and doing the hard work to transcend. Hmm, go figure.

Lucky for you I am able to weave them together! Ha!

So, now that I have a bigger audience, I want to talk about something really important. Hair and make-up.

Okay, as a “Curly-Girl”, my hair is not happy in this humidity. I knew what I was getting myself into, so I came packed with an arsenal of my anti-frizz products, but it’s futile. It’s not just the unbearable frizz that makes me look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket, it’s the unruly fluff that comes with it. I will probably end up embracing the chaos, but I haven’t given up just yet.

But what I’m happy about is that I have barely worn any make-up since I’ve been here. That’s really rare for me. I usually like wearing make-up. I like decorating myself in that way. And when I don’t wear make-up, it is a very conscious act and I am very aware of it. I feel naked leaving the house without at least a little mascara. But the moment I arrived to Bali, make-up was barely even an afterthought. Part of that has to do with the humidity and how gross it would feel to have a bunch of make-up on, but part of it is that I just don’t care. And that is very new for me. The first few times I went out, it barely occurred to me, and when it did, my thought was basically: Nah.

This is meaningful to me because. Although sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, or lipstick is just lipstick, to me this is a sign that I am feeling comfortable in my skin in new ways. Even though I genuinely like to wear make-up, if I’m being truthful (which is my duty) I do usually feel insecure without it. So to just naturally not give a shit, without conscious effort, feels really good. (I have been starting to wear a little makeup here and there, when I feel like it. Key words: “when I feel like it”. For fun, not because I feel naked or insecure without it).

You know what else feels really good? My flowy Balinese dresses! Another very important subject. Okay, so, I got some more dresses. And some pants. And a shirt. And I’m getting even more used to the bargaining (still a little wobbly though). Again, if I’m being truthful- even though I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the bargaining, when I bargained the really good deal, it did feel pretty good. And now that I am getting more suitable clothing, I also no longer feel like I stick out as much. Not that I was terribly out of place, but I didn’t feel as much in the flow of things here (no pun intended). Everyone here wears flowy clothes. Men and women. You have to. Or you’ll be miserable.

Now that I have bargained a really good deal, first of all, I will totally go back to that guy, and second- I realize the first dresses I got were not such a great deal. And only one of them I loved. I think I was just so overzealous about getting some flowy Balinese dresses that I overshot it a bit. One of the dresses I realized doesn’t even fit me right. So, SPOILER ALERT: someone’s getting a flowy Balinese dress for Christmas!

Another thing I realized when I was shopping, was, once again- the decisions!

I touched on this in my last post, but seriously- I never realized how many decisions we make in a day! So many of our decisions are habit based and automatic, but from the moment I wake up, it’s decision after decision. What do I want for breakfast? What do I want to do after breakfast? Which direction do I want to walk in? Which street do I want to take? Which spa do I want to go to? What spa treatment do I want? Which shop to buy flowy Balinese dresses in? Which flowy Balinese dresses do I want! There are so many! Then, same thing all over again for lunch, then dinner, and everything in between.

I am a little on decision over load here! Now I know what the president must feel like! Yes, spending a few days in a tropical paradise is just like being President, Commander in Chief, and basically the most powerful person in the world.

Anyway, along with decision overload, my anxieties started to rise about not having really met anyone yet. What if I don’t meet anyone the entire time I’m here? Those dirty little “what-ifs”, they belong in the same place as the “shoulds”. But I humored myself- okay, so, WHAT IF I don’t?

Well, ever since my week-long meditation retreat, a couple years ago, I’ve wanted to do a month-long. So if I just end up being alone with my thoughts for six weeks, that would certainly be a trip- in all senses of the term. But let’s be realistic here. I’ve only been here a week, and for the most part I’ve either been completely disoriented, or sick. The more time I spend here, the more I settle into the rhythm of the island, the town- and most importantly myself.

As soon as I embraced that truth, wouldn’t you know it, today I made my first friend here! For as much as I am ok surfing the thought waves (if I were to I find myself alone with them for six weeks) I have really been craving some intellectual conversation. Then, today, on my way home, I stopped for lunch at this really good Balinese restaurant I tried the other day (brace yourself for a food focused blog post one of these days). I ended up meeting another solo traveler there. A Frenchman. We got  involved in a very long, intellectual conversation. He is (was?) a psychotherapist, so we were definitely on the same wavelength. Like the Dutchman, he’s been here before and really knows his way around. There’s a little lapse in communication and translation with the Dutchman, but no issues with the Frenchman. We made it official and added each other on Facebook. And just like that, another travel milestone.

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TRUTH. Seek and you shall find.

This head-cold is still lingering, so I’m still taking it easy. I’ve finally been taking advantage of my pool. And I also finally meditated last night, which felt good.

Here's my pool, by the way!

Here’s my pool, by the way!

I feel like I’m really starting to hear myself again. During my meditation, the words “IT’S TIME TO UNDO… all that’s been done” kept coming to me.

Okay, here’s where I’ll actually get serious, like, for real. The night before I got sick (so, maybe day 4?), when I started to feel the stress in my body, and when I noticed how badly I was clenching my jaw, I started wondering –WHAT am I holding onto? And that question has been pervading me. Because the more I settle, and the more layers of the onion I peel in my solitary experience, the more I see how tightly I am holding on. Every layer that comes undone, there is more holding.

I’m sure it has to do with another observation that has pervaded me- worrying what people think. Seriously? I thought I worked through this shit! Apparently not. All this time alone with my thoughts made me see just how concerned I was with what the locals (native and expat) might think of me, in so many different scenarios. And so worried about being judged. It was much worse when I first arrived. I think it’s getting better now. Or maybe it’s just getting buried?

With that question pervading me, and those words coming to me in meditation last night, my intuition is gnawing at me from within. I can feel that there are some seriously deep, thick, and hardened layers of self that need to be pierced, peeled, and extricated. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I can feel those layers being pierced. And I sense the undoing beginning.

I feel as if all of the hard work I’ve put in over the last seven years is about to surmount a momentous crest.

Maybe that’s where the letting go comes in. I’m sure it is. Maybe, now, it’s about not working hard.

In the movie Dirty Dancing- Havana Nights (which was actually much better than I expected. You just have to disassociate it from the original) Patrick Swayze of course made a cameo, as a dance teacher. The main character, Katie, was struggling with her ability to assimilate the free flowing Cuban moves with her very regimented ballroom training. Patrick Swayze gives her this whole lecture about moving through fear (of letting go), and how to move with the music. Then he holds his arms out in a ballroom stance, as an invitation for her to join him, looks her in the eye, and says “now forget everything I told you and just dance.”

So, as much as I love “doing the work”, and building my life around that work, maybe Bali is calling me to just dance.