January 29 2025
Surrendering to the Flow: Music, Sangha, and New Beginnings in Bali
The day after my 35th birthday got off to a bit of a misaligned start. I hadn’t gone to sleep until nearly 3 AM, and after only about six hours of rest, I woke up feeling it—my stomach still aching from the way I had devoured my birthday meal the night before, mixed with too many sugar-free sucking candies. It wasn’t so much about the food itself, but the way I had eaten—fast, mindless, almost desperate. That old feeling creeping back in. The physical discomfort from eating too quickly, mixed with emotional echoes of the past. My stomach was upset, my body sore from the intensity of the water purification ritual, my mind spinning with doubt.
I lay in bed thinking, Am I wasting my time here? But then I reminded myself—this is why I came to Bali. To slow down. To breathe. To listen. And I never really defined what that would look like, so maybe this is it. Going slow. Feeling things fully. Releasing the urge to constantly be doing and just allowing myself to be.
Sadhana and the Sounds of Imperfection
I rolled out of bed to a handful of lingering birthday messages. One, from "Henry"... the young London lad I had connected with (for lack of a better, slightly inappropriate word) during my month-long yoga and therapy immersion in Mexico a couple of years ago. We had become close during that time, but naturally drifted afterward, aside from a handful of text exchanges. I had thought about him the day before, wondering if he’d reach out, and there he was. A little cosmic nudge.
I let the message sit for a bit and picked up my harmonium instead. I played for a while, working through some of the unease in my body, allowing the sound to guide me back to center. I came up with a Mihali mash-up, something to ease my anxiety, something to ground me.
But as I played, I noticed something off. One of my keys—G major—was making a ringing sound when I pumped the bellows. A small but annoying imperfection. This harmonium is brand new, but after traveling from India to Bali, the change in climate could easily be a factor.
At first, frustration. Then, surrender. Maybe this is a lesson in detachment, I thought. In patience. In accepting imperfection. It can be fixed when I return to India in three weeks, and until then, I’ll work with what I have.
After playing, I moved through some intuitive stretching, listening to what my body needed. My neck and shoulders were still incredibly sore from the purification ritual. I hadn’t realized how much movement I had been getting at the Eco Village, where I had to walk everywhere. Here in Bali, the unpredictable rain had kept me more stationary. My body was craving more movement, but I also knew that once I reached Rishikesh, I’d be walking constantly—especially since my favorite cafés and restaurants are all on the other side of the river, requiring a daily trek up the incline of Tapovan.
Speaking of inclines, I was slightly nervous about the retreat I’d be heading to in a few days. Apparently, all the buildings were at the top of a steep hill—98 steps or something like that. I’m up for the challenge, but I also have to be mindful. My knee has arthritis, and while I don’t want to limit myself, I also don’t want to push to the point of pain. A lesson in balance.
Finding Sangha in Unexpected Places
That evening, I had told myself I was going to attend the open mic at Sayuri Healing Food, where I plan to take my vegan chef training. I had committed to it, but as the time approached, I started second-guessing. My belly still wasn’t settled, my energy was low, and I felt that familiar whisper of resistance: Do I really need to go?
I laid down for an hour—not quite napping, but resting. When I got up, I decided—I’m going.
The rain had let up just enough for me to head out, so I took it as my moment to leave the villa. I love it here so much that I could easily stay in my little sanctuary for 24 hours straight, but I also knew that stepping out into the world was part of the experience.
When I arrived, Sayuri was packed. There were no open tables in the main room, and for a second, I thought about turning around. But instead, I did something different. I approached a communal table where a man with a guitar sat and asked if they had room. He invited me to sit, and I gladly accepted.
Soon, a tall British man with a radiant smile asked if there was more space. We will call him "Brit", a spoken word poet who would be performing that night. Shortly after, his friend arrived—a singer who has been living in Bali for eight years. Then another woman, sat at the table, she had moved to Bali less than a year ago from Florida. The four of us quickly fell into conversation about astrology, the calling of Mama Bali, and the mysterious ways life guides us to exactly where we need to be.
After My Set: Being Seen & The Rain That Kept Me Still
When it was finally my turn to perform, my heart pounded. I started with my Knocking on Heaven’s Door/Om Namo/Hare Krishna mash-up, weaving in a bit of spoken word poetry. I wasn’t as fluid as when I sing alone, but I noticed people filming me. Some were talking, some were moving around—it was a restaurant, after all—but there were also those who sat still, fully immersed in the moment.
After that, I took a risk—I sang Back to Black by Amy Winehouse. The beginning felt shaky, but somewhere in the middle, I completely dropped in. The nerves melted away, and I felt like I was channeling something beyond myself.
When I finished, the applause was immediate. Cheers from my new friends at the table. Claps from strangers. People coming up to me, telling me how moving my set was.
The Brit, in particular, was completely enamored. He told me he had recorded videos because he felt so deeply connected to what I was doing. That when I started chanting Krishna’s name, he closed his eyes and felt like he had been taken somewhere else. That he hadn’t expected something so raw, so powerful, to come out of me.
Afterward, I tried to order food, but my mind was all over the place. I kept changing my order, feeling indecisive, getting flustered. I realized I had been struggling with this a lot lately—this hesitancy, this discomfort with making a decision. Eventually, I finalized my order, but just as I was about to leave, the rain started coming down hard.
So, I stayed.
I sat with two musicians—the German guy who had played Jack Johnson, and the Hawaiian guy who had played Hozier and Amy Winehouse. We talked about life in Bali, how so many people come here for a short visit and end up staying indefinitely. They told me how easy it is to live well here, how rent is cheap, how the energy of the island holds people.
And as we sat, waiting for the rain to let up, I felt it again—the nudge. The subtle, quiet pull that maybe I, too, was meant to stay longer than I originally planned.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, I got a text from the Brit.
“I just wanted to say that what you did tonight was incredible. Your energy, your presence, the way you channel… it was really something special. I felt it, deeply. Thank you for sharing your gift.”
And in that moment, I knew—I was exactly where I needed to be.
Trusting the Unknown: India, Bali, and Beyond
I still have three more weeks in Bali, spending time in Lovina before heading back to India for Thai massage training in Rishikesh. But I know this isn’t the end of my time here. I’ll be back soon, immediately after my course, to complete the vegan chef academy.
I don’t know exactly what my path will look like after that, but I do know one thing: I will be back.
Not just for a visit. Not just to pass through. But to truly be here.
And maybe—just maybe—Bali isn’t done with me either.
The New Moon, the Chinese New Year, and the Space Between
Between Bali and India.
Between the familiar and the unknown.
Between who I was and who I am becoming.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not rushing to figure it all out.
I’m trusting.
I’m allowing.
I’m surrendering.
Because I know that whatever happens next, Kali is guiding me. Krishna is holding me. And I am exactly where I need to be.
With love & gratitude,
eve aka kali grayce
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