Captivated Me

A new, refreshed day begins, and my eyes open unalarmed just before sunrise. I close them again, not in sleep, just to heighten my attention to the morning’s bird-singing, palm-swaying melody arising from outside. Lingering in bed a few moments longer, I decide to slowly ready for a walk further along down the main road toward the series of rice fields that lie beyond the junction to the yoga center. It’s a sweet walk, a saunter, and as I exchange greetings with the family who owns the shop across the street, and as I admire the organized, bright green patchwork fields that radiate on either side of the road, I say a prayer of thanks.

Bali is an island I never believed I would visit, nor necessarily ever planned to. (Perhaps I had thought of it in the remote past, but more so as a farfetched fantasy and less of a real possibility.) The same can be said for other destinations where my feet have wandered over the past several years. For instance, I started this year in Charleston, South Carolina and Moab, Utah, then made my way across the Pacific to Saipan and its sister islands, Tinian and Rota. Guam, Korea, Japan, the list goes on.

I grew up in a suburban corner of Minneapolis, Minnesota, raised in a family of humble means and big love. Our finances did not allow for travel, but I did have two diligent parents who – in various ways – worked very hard to provide for our family and encouraged my sisters and I to dream imaginatively and to believe in possibility, even if our means at the moment did not seem to add up to our hopes. My mom, in particular, spurred us on greatly in pursuing whatever God-given purposes were out there for us to discover in life, even if the path was not yet clear, even if it did not make practical sense. 

As for me, many of my dreams revolved around travel – acquainting my senses with new sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touches, different from those that were familiar to me. I believed deeply in God from a young age, and my sense of wonder about the world – about the joys and perils of humanity as a whole, about the diversity of languages and cultures and histories, about the mystery of wide landscapes and high mountains and deep seas – derives from the notion that these give us a glimpse of God’s heart, His creativity, His grace, His power, and His mighty love for us. If God created and cares about all of these stories and places – from those in my own neighborhood to those in another community on the opposite side of the globe – I wanted to care about them, too.

Believing also in God’s heart for restoring brokenness, I gravitated toward the field of medicine early on; and despite not having a clue how to go about becoming a physician, I felt led toward that pursuit from the age of 10. The miraculous design of the human body, how it carries our being and protects us each day, the ways it is built to repair itself as well as possible when attacked by infection or inflammation or injury, how greatly our lives are affected based on the health of the body (as well as the health of the environment and society that we grow up in) – this speaks to me. How can I be a part of helping repair the brokenness and illness that can assail the body or mind or heart? How can I encourage others in journeying healthfully? How can I partner with those healing efforts that have gone on for centuries before me and will continue for centuries after, especially when you take all of this and apply it to one of the most bright and resilient but vulnerable demographics on the planet – children. Hence, my deep dive into pediatrics over the years.

As I walk along these rice fields, I think about how pragmatically unlikely a trip to Bali or working as a pediatrician felt when I was young, and how humbling it is now to be living out those hopes and dreams. How grateful I am for parents who encouraged me to see and believe beyond the visible reality, even if I had to squint to do so, and to imagine in the distance what I could not yet see. To have faith.

I realize the hour, and walk a little more briskly back to my villa to get ready for this morning’s yoga practice – an introductory study of tantra – which is new for me. Dijan explains how, in essence, the practice involves a keen attention to the physical body and the sensations and energies that pulse through it (which often occur outside of our active awareness). Tantra is much more involved than this in reality, but I am grateful to Dijan for explaining it in such digestible and basic language for a beginner like me. This morning’s is a gentle, simple but powerful work that combines yoga asanas with meditation, again with breathing, and for me, with prayer. It is both refreshing and challenging, as the poses we each assume are meant to be held for longer than is physically comfortable, and the discipline it takes to remain still and to relax further into the pose is something I have not practiced consistently before. Then, the practice is refreshing again as we end in shavasana for the final relaxation, and I experience a sense of out-of-body-ness that I have never felt before – a total stillness, peace, and oneness of my self with my surroundings. 

We three wrap up the session and grab breakfast together in the Samyama Eatery once again, then due to a change in schedule, I am released for the rest of the day to explore. After stopping briefly to hug Kopang, the lovely friend/chef/AirBnB experience curator/motor scooter driver from yesterday, I return to the villa, don my swimwear and sarong, and set out walking again, this time south along the main road outside of my complex.

Included in my retreat is a day pass to a local health club called Titi Batu Ubud, a ‘very sexy’ place as I was told by a staff member at Samyama. And it is. As I approach the complex, I notice that it is surrounded by lush tropical forest. Several sleek, windowed structures housing gym equipment, workout studios, and dressing rooms hug a central, open-air multilayered pool and lounge space which is the direct neighbor of a restaurant exuding the most delicious fragrances. I feel overly spoiled and grateful, and start my time with a cleansing rest in the sauna overlooking the pool. I then ease over to the ice bath next door, allowing my body to enjoy the cooling treatment in this tropical environment, and then proceed to the steam room (which, in my ignorance, I had never before differentiated from a sauna) before honing in on a chaise with a beautiful pool view. I take out my notebook and get lost in writing. And writing. And writing.

About an hour passes, and I float over to a benched pile of plush, jewel-toned pillows at the restaurant for a fresh-pressed juice – a fusion of citrus and mango and carrot – as well as an indulgent coconut affogatto (rich espresso poured over a scoop of coconut ice cream). Tarrying a while, I journal some more, share pleasantries with a couple of other guests, and then walk home to get ready for an afternoon adventure. Aishwarya and I made spontaneous plans to visit the iconic rice terraces!

We set out north by scooter, and the views are not to be believed. Rice paddies for miles, some porting a shallow layer of calm water that reflects the backdrop of palm trees and grey-blue clouded skies, which are becoming cloudier by the moment. We pass glorious decorative temples every several minutes and start to feel the sprinkle of rain drops, then as we arrive at the Tegallalang terraces – designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and for good reason – a true downpour begins. Covered in rain gear, we scurry along a line of cafés and shopping stands that overlook the fields, giddy and giggling like school girls with a crush on the same boy, and narrow our focus to the Rice Terrace Cafe. To our delight, we find ourselves the sole occupants of an expansive balcony overlooking this internationally-renowned view.

These terraces are arranged in a clever design that facilitates irrigation through a generations-old system tended to by cooperatives of locals from surrounding villages. These cooperatives are known as ‘subak’. I loved reading about this system here: https://www.indonesia.travel/gb/en/destinations/bali-nusa-tenggara/bali/subak.

We marvel with gratitude at the green heaven in front of us, order fun and refreshing food and drinks, and reflect on the yoga retreat, on courage, and on life. Conversation then pauses as we each journal, listening to the raindrops on nearby tin roofs, taking lingering glances at the fields, thinking out loud to each other every so often. It is only my second day here, and the amount of refreshment and growth and friendship contained in so many ways and places and people in the last 36 hours is both humbling and even life-altering.

After a comfortable while, when there is a break in the heaviest rainfall, we put on our waterproof layers once again and slowly walk back to the scooter. We journey 25 minutes home to our respective villas at around 6:30 PM, most of the way in that continuing downpour which leaves us as drenched as dogs after a daytime swim, with full and bright hearts.

My last activity for the evening, another inclusion in this retreat, is a 60-minute massage with a deep tissue practitioner named Ketut. He is well-known to Dijan, her staff, and the community for massages that both reset and relax the whole being. I walk happily again that short distance between Kutus Kutus and Samyama and allow myself to slowly doze off in complete, blissful relaxation.

I have trouble describing how otherworldly this trip has been so far. On one hand, these experiences are so luxurious and indulgent that I almost cringe. They contrast so greatly with the frugal nature that has been engrained within me from childhood. On the other, my heart is overflowing with gratitude for the opportunity to rest and enjoy in this way, and I am humbled to be here and appreciative to an extent that no words can describe. For as deep, dark, frightening, and painful as life’s valleys have been, particularly starting this time around four years ago, what a blessing to now be wildly beholden for these terraced heights.