Captivated Me

“Okay Ti, let me get a pen and write this down. Tiana’s Christmas Adventure!” My mom, more than 6700 miles away, sought around her for something to write with, and in her usual gracious, supportive fashion sat ready with a notebook to take in the planning and processing that I was sharing.

I had just finished my final night shift on call at the hospital after what had been a particularly challenging 10 days on service over the Thanksgiving holiday. To decompress after an intense early-morning admission, I set up shop at one of my favorite island cafe spaces with a peaceful, healing view of the water. I love my job, and I love working with the incredible children and families on this enchanting island; and at the same time, any work that involves long hours, intense decision making, and difficult logistics – layered together with the impact of being miles and oceans away from loved ones – also calls for intentional moments of pause, rest, self-compassion, and recharging. Blessedly, Saipan is a beautiful place to snuggle into such moments.

Over the past week, I had made the difficult decision not to go home for the upcoming Christmas and New Year celebrations, and I was now discussing with my mom how to make life-giving use of the holiday on this side of the Pacific, which would allow for fewer time zone crossings and less jet lag. For reasons I can only attribute to a vague sense of ‘right-ness’, I had landed on the basic infrastructure of a two-week pilgrimage first through Bali, then Singapore, then somewhere else that I had not yet decided on – planning to just see where the time would lead in those final few days. Together with my mom, we agree that something about this dream makes intuitive sense, even though neither of us can rationally articulate why. I book my flights to Bali, then Singapore, then back to Saipan. The dates are set. I leave the cafe trusting that the lodging in each locale will fall into place in the coming days, and I feel a state of steady calm warm my soul as I make my way home for some deep and needed sleep.

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That was four weeks ago, and now here I sit after my first full day in Bali. The itinerary for the next four days here is bent on rest, focus, and delight, and this first day leaves me feeling off to a blessed start. 

After a hair-thin connection in Manila and a Home Alone-like dash to the gate, I boarded my flight to Bali-Denpasar International Airport late last night and arrived in Bali around 0200 this morning – tired from around 24 hours of travel, but content and at ease. The queue for immigration clearance was lengthy, taking over an hour, but I didn’t mind; I was grateful just to sit and exist, anonymous in this crowd of fellow travelers with similar glaze over their eyes from the early morning hour. I wove lazily through the line, then once it was my turn to approach was quickly cleared by an immigration officer who, when I shared about my home state, was excited to talk about the Minnesota Timberwolves. After a few moment’s connection with him, followed by a brief currency exchange, I proceeded through the duty-free area of the airport to find the man who would help me to the evening’s lodging.

Komang was a kind and jubilant man – taxi driver and tour guide by profession – who allowed me to sit in the front seat so I could admire the views along both sides of the road as we navigated the narrow, dark, relatively empty streets. Conversation was easy, and I learned the very basics of the Balinese language (greetings/welcome = om swastiastu; thank you = suksma), the proximity between Balinese culture and Hindu customs and traditions which I had formerly only associated with India, and the general geography of Bali. I plan to spend my time in Ubud, one cultural heart of this storied island, mostly surrounded with verdure and rice fields – a welcome, tranquil atmosphere.

After a measure of around 50 minutes we arrive at Kutus Kutus Mas Villa in Ubud, and with drowsy admiration and appreciation, I take in the dense palms and tropical flowers illuminated by golden lanterns in the night. I check in, practicing the limited Balinese that Komang had taught me moments earlier, and weave through an open-air courtyard with beautiful landscaping and a sparkling blue pool, eventually arriving at the ornate wood-carved doors to my home for the week – a truly stunning Balinese villa. I marvel another moment, I tuck my belongings away in the armoire, and then I tuck myself into the fresh white linens laid over a mattress that perfectly absorbs my exhausted body.

I fall asleep within minutes, and awaken spontaneously just a few hours later, mystifyingly refreshed. Birdsongs carry through the closed wooden window shutters, and as I prop those shutters open, I am met with bright, warm sunshine and a courtyard view that my eyes cannot believe. The pool’s shimmer is even more luminous in the daylight. The villas surrounding the courtyard are a soothing orange creamsicle color; my small front patio is adorned with simple, sturdy, classic wicker furniture, with a background of concrete walls and window shutter relief carvings depicting Hindu deities and bold florals. The moment contained a delicious symphony of sounds and colors and sensations that would continue to develop throughout the day.

I then began to gradually ready for my first yoga class. Ubud is a sort of worldwide hub for yoga practitioners, which I have never thought myself to be, but which felt like a healthy way to invest my time, body, heart and mind as I reflect on this year’s end and next year’s start. I opted for a private retreat, entailing a 90-minute yoga practice each morning, breakfast at the eatery adjacent to the yoga center each day, and 90 minutes of didactics or additional yogic work in the afternoon, all under the tutelage of a mentor named Dijan.

The retreat center, called ‘Samyama’ – ‘sam’ meaning ‘integration’, ‘yama’ meaning ‘discipline’ – lies five minutes walking from my villa along a quiet, brick road lined with quaint resorts, rice fields, and small family-run convenience shops. Intermittent motor scooters ease along the way, leaving the trace smell of fuel each time they pass. I feel like I am floating as I step along the side of the road, absorbing the warmth of the day into my skin, breathing in the tropical air, eyes keen to retain every detail before me – the vibrant red hibiscus, the swaying palm leaves, the tiny canine that shyly approaches and begins to trace my steps. I am nothing short of wholeheartedly grateful.

After a short jaunt along the main road, I turn left where signs indicate the retreat center will be. The path leads through a narrow alleyway decorated with birds of paradise, the entry into a spa exuding an incredible perfume (which I will later come to identify as plumeria or frangipani), and ending with a staircase which descends into the gardened courtyard of Samyama Yoga Center. The steps curving down contain stones of two different shades, neatly arranged one after the other with the words ‘love’ and ‘compassion’. The bright yellow edifice is hugged on all sides by luscious foliage that gently dances in the breeze. To the right, a stairway leads upward to Samyama Eatery, an airy, open oasis for eating, mingling, resting. And my word, the songs arising from the trees and the birds. Remember the symphony that started this morning? It is in the process of a glorious crescendo.

I am running a little later than expected, but feel unrushed, and soon learn that my mentor as well as my co-retreater are delayed a few minutes as well. One of the eatery staff members shows me the path to the yoga hall in the lower level of the building, where I wait for class to begin. I whisper my thanks, so as not to disturb the attendants of a separate silent retreat taking place in the upper recesses of the center. Dijan and my co-retreater, Aishwarya, arrive shortly after me, and we all meet with hugs and happy greetings, as if long-time friends. I immediately feel welcomed and at home.

We prepare the room with our mats, bolsters, yoga blocks, and bottles of water and proceed through a gentle but stimulating practice, with emphasis today on coordinating our breathing with our movements and attention to the energy and sensation that evolve and travel throughout our physical bodies as we clear and focus our minds. For me, this movement and breathing creates space for prayer and inner stillness. A practical introduction, if you will, to the integration and discipline of mind, body and soul that we will continue to build on in the coming days.

The work is refreshing, and as we end in a guided, relaxing shavasana (or corpse pose), we slowly walk together to the eatery for breakfast. We spend the next hour further acquainting with each other. Dijan shares about her passion for yoga and her years of training and experience in its various disciplines and practices; Aishwarya and I share a little about our stories, our often intense work environments (we work in different industries, but interestingly face some of the same threats for burnout – prolonged hours, sometimes isolating contexts, and great physical and emotional demands). I note inwardly how thankful I am to be among such kindred spirits – vibrant and light but no-nonsense hearts; full of curiosity and passion; bent on vulnerability, authenticity, and deep connection.

After breakfast, I have an hour’s rest until my first one-on-one session with Dijan. I climb the winding staircase to the upper level of the retreat building, which is divided in two between a meditation hall (currently in use for the silent retreat) and a separate laid-back, cushioned space with macrame chair swings suspended from the ceiling and bookcases filled with age-old insights. I nestle into one of the hanging chairs and rock back and forth a short while, journal a few moments, and drift into a soft sleep while the symphony around me continues in pianissimo fashion.

My early afternoon meeting with Dijan is an in-depth ‘get to know you’. She takes a detailed, compassionate history of what brings me to Bali, and allows me to share my story and my intention for being here. I am not here to be a tourist in the classic sense. I have no aspirations to see all that there is to see in Bali while I am here; I will not even try. Instead, my intent is to discover deeper layers of myself, to spend dedicated time with God in prayer, to clear and focus my mind as the new year approaches, to rest and care well for my body, and to open my heart in greater and greater measure to love and joy and possibility, to the point of overflowing. Dijan is attentive, asks thoughtful and clarifying questions, and I can see her beginning to formulate a plan around how to customize my curriculum this week. Once again, I pause for a moment of gratitude.

After our visit, I walk blissfully back to my villa and prepare for a Balinese cooking class I had registered for – the one activity besides my retreat that I signed up for in planning my stay in Ubud. Cooking classes with locals have become an important part of my international travels. I learn so much about daily life and culture and food in these contexts, ways of living that are different (but in some ways also so similar) from what I know, ways of thinking and seeing the world that I have not thought of before. I treasure these conversations, the insights they provide to fill in the gaps of my (unintentional) cultural ignorance, and the moments of connection and friendship that they create. 

I am picked up from the villa via motor scooter by Kopang, who to both of our surprise, I had encountered briefly earlier in the day. Kopang happens to be the lead chef at Samyama Eatery, where I ate breakfast! And she happens to organize the cooking class I registered for through AirBnB in addition. She and I are fast friends, and as we ride through the streets of Ubud to her local shop, we discuss upcoming Balinese holiday celebrations, the yoga retreat, and life in general. I learn that in Balinese, ‘Ubud’ means ‘healing’, and I am struck by the notion, as that is just about the most perfect word to describe my journey these past five years, and my time so far in this ethereal place. We arrive at the shop she partners in with her sister Ayu, who will walk me through the class while Kopang returns to the eatery.

The storefront, ‘Tangan Lokal’, is a neat, beautiful space filled with jarred containers of flowers, greens, and other spices. I am met with a refreshing welcome drink, a blend of mint, lime, honey, water and ice. Over the course of two hours, Ayu teaches me to make four Balinese dishes – an iced hibiscus tea with lime and honey (which involves a form of magic – or really, chemistry between the lime and the tea – that causes an almost alchemic purple-to-pink color change in the beverage), an appetizer called bakwan jagung (Indonesian corn fritters) with a classic spicy sauce called sambal, an Indonesian curry for the main dish, and a green roll with a fried coconut filling for dessert, called dadar gulung. The produce we use is sensationally colorful and astoundingly fresh. The conversation is light and informative, almost familial, as if I’m among a long-lost relative. And the meal – well, let me just say that if taste could be musical, this meal would add something maestoso to the day’s orchestral performance.

After enjoying the meal, I walk the busy streets of central Ubud and do some gift shopping for family. Cars are stalled in bumper-to-bumper holiday traffic, as motor scooters whiz bravely by and pedestrians are out about their evening activities, choosing between myriad beautiful restaurants and cafés. My path lines a park space where a cohort of school-aged kids play futbol as the sun sets. A group of men are molding tall stalks of bamboo into curved hooks, called penjor, in preparation for the upcoming Galungan festival in early January. After meandering a while, I return to the shop for my scooter taxi home, where I take a brief but satisfying dip in the cool pool and get ready to meet Aishwarya for an evening adventure. We stop by Yoga Barn, one of the more well-known yoga centers in Ubud, for a brief look-around, then make our way back to central Ubud and find a local bar and restaurant called ‘Oops’ where we settle in as a gentle rain begins. A live guitarist and vocalist decorates the air with soothing music, and Aishwarya and I share more about our respective journeys over French fries and drinks. What a treasure this was! She and I are alike in so many ways, in spite of growing up on opposite sides of the planet, in different faith traditions, with a passion for different industries. I am struck by the feeling of having gained a soul sister today, and am reminded of the Maya Angelou quote: We are more alike, my friend, than we are unalike.

After finding a few additional gifts for family, we retreat back to our respective resorts. For the umpteenth time, I thank God for bringing me here, for the day, for each moment, for revealing Himself and His love through the smiles and hearts and sights and sounds that I had the humbling privilege of encountering over the past 18 hours. And now I realize, it has only been 18 hours! My gosh, if such beauty can transpire in so short a time, I am overwhelmed to think about where this “Christmas Adventure”, as my mom aptly named it, will lead from here.