It has been almost 16 years since I traveled to Bali. Wide-eyed, hazy, numb with grief, but open to it all. I remember the young woman who boarded the plane from Denver, hand in hand with her husband, with only a backpack and an aching need to find something that she couldn’t find at home. She was seeking respite from her pain. Perhaps a doorway into a new life, one that made sense when her current reality did not.

This small window of time was unbelievably potent and transformative. Leaving the country just a few weeks after my son’s death was one of the bravest things I’ve ever done. As I reflect on that journey now, I give thanks for this life-changing experience that shaped my understanding of love and life and how to grieve in a way that is healthy, mindful and in connection to myself and others.

The day of Noah’s funeral, my husband and I decided that we would travel to Bali, Indonesia and Thailand in search of a culture that could help us make sense of our loss. I remember the moment vividly. Sitting on the bathroom floor upstairs trying to get away from all the people who filled our home, we looked into each other’s eyes and felt fearless for the first time in our lives. We had just lost everything. Our world had literally fallen apart. The unimaginable had happened to us.

And, in that brief moment we became fearless because we had nothing left to lose.

In hindsight, I have never known such freedom and I am unsure if I ever will again. To be that present and free from the inner chatter of worry and fear that relentlessly occupied my head was precious.

However, this moment was fleeting. I wish I could somehow bottle that feeling in a jar. I couldn’t appreciate it at the time, but there was something profound happening for me in the month between Noah’s death and the day I found out I was pregnant with my second child, Hannah. In that small window of my life, I was fully present in my surroundings and in flow with myself. Each moment simply led to the next with ease and curiosity. All I had to do was focus on one step at a time and be open to the beautiful people and experiences that we would meet along the way. It was magical, really, and liberating to be THAT PRESENT.

There is a phrase that I often say in my yoga classes during meditation, “there is nothing here to do or make happen,” and that is exactly how I felt throughout my travels. That is, until, I felt the first stirrings of life inside of me again. For weeks, I tried to put it out of my mind. As we trekked through tiny villages in Thailand and climbed mountains, I could feel every tiny change happening in my body. I prayed and I waited and tried to distract myself until I finally could not take it any longer. One morning before dawn on the shores of Koh Samui Thailand, I took a pregnancy test and found out that I was pregnant with my daughter, Hannah. It had been 5 weeks since Noah’s death and it happened to be my first Mother’s Day.

I have no words to describe the emotions that I felt as I watched the sunrise over the ocean and noticed the familiar feeling of fear creep back inside of me mixed with the joy of new life growing in my womb. The impact of this moment was so great that it continues to haunt me and draw me back into the past. I can’t shake the memory of feeling such profound aliveness, which was then gone in an instant the moment my daughter’s spirit whispered in my ear.

Many years later when two of my closest friends traveled to Thailand, I was brought back to my experience in these sacred lands -- wishing that I could hold onto the precious feeling of freedom and expansiveness that I felt there.

In Bali, all I wanted was a baby in my arms. In every temple that we prayed in, every Buddha that we visited, our prayer was the same - to conceive a child to bring light back into our lives. I was consumed by this desire, so much so that I didn’t appreciate the freedom that I had from my fear. I have never felt as present, connected and mindful as I did during this journey. Nor, have I felt as embraced and held in the gentle, kind and mindful ways that the balinese culture lives.

Even though my lens of this journey was through the eyes of a person in deep grief, my heart and mind was wide open and receptive to the people and practices that we experienced along the way. For this, I am forever grateful and forever changed. My southeast Asia journey created a seed inside me for this work that I love, which I have spent the past 16 years nurturing in community. I am honored and so ready to revisit Bali with new eyes and to hold others in the openness and gentle love that I received there so many years ago. This is my full circle.

In part two of this blog, I want to share what I learned from these cultures and the impact of the kindness of strangers that we met along our way. Stay tuned as we will post this very soon.

If you feel called to join me in Bali for the Awakening Through Grief Retreat this June to dive into your own grief journey, you can learn more here.

https://centerforsomaticgrieving.com/bali-retreat

With Love and Light,