I went to Bali extremely skeptical.
I had heard so many people in the Los Angeles wellness circuit talk about the island as though it possessed supernatural powers.
“Bali was so healing.”
“I went on a medicine journey, and now I feel completely on top of myself.”
“You guys, I hired a shaman, and it was so transformative.”
Every time I heard another declaration about Bali, I shuddered a little.
I had traveled to places that everyone raved about and walked away with a completely different impression. I am looking at you, Prague. Hearing people relentlessly hype a destination always made me suspicious. I wondered whether Bali could possibly live up to the mythology surrounding it.
Deep down, I was trying to protect myself from disappointment.
When I finally had the chance to visit Bali in 2023, I decided to let go of every expectation I had for the trip. I would arrive without demanding a revelation. I would experience the island on its own terms.
I walked out of the airport beneath a bright glow of lights. Within a few steps, something felt different.
I could not put my finger on it. Maybe it was the hot air settling against my skin. Maybe it was the smell of gasoline from the motor scooters moving through the night. I had experienced those sensations in other places.
The energy felt distinct.
After driving through Ubud’s busy streets, I arrived at my hotel and felt a deep exhale move through my body. The people working there carried themselves with reverence. They moved slowly, purposefully and with genuine joy. Their presence made the space feel calm before I had even unpacked my suitcase.
Over the next several days, I wandered the streets and marveled at the architecture. I watched elaborate stone temples rise beside ordinary homes. Daily offerings appeared on sidewalks and outside storefronts. Incense drifted through the air. Spiritual practice seemed woven into the rhythm of everyday life.
I also did the touristy Bali things that nearly everyone does. I visited the rice paddies. I climbed onto one of the famous swings. I tried kopi luwak. I explored markets, temples, and waterfalls.
For me, the unlock was the feeling of stillness.
There is something profound about standing before a rice paddy and hearing almost complete silence. The quiet gave me enough space to hear myself again. For once, I could move according to my natural rhythm instead of responding to the demands of the day.
That experience felt unfamiliar.
My life had trained me to move quickly. There was always another deadline, another client request, or another obligation competing for my attention. Even rest could become another item scheduled between responsibilities.
Bali gave me the space to wake naturally. I could eat when I felt hungry. I could walk without calculating how long the walk would take. I could stop because something was beautiful.
The island also introduced me to a rich world of Balinese beauty and wellness traditions. I experienced Balinese boreh, a warming body treatment made with herbs and spices. I tried ear candling and explored several other practices rooted in local culture. I share those experiences in the Bali episode of In the Name of Beauty.
The treatments were fascinating. The massages were wonderful. The rituals gave me a closer look at how healing traditions are preserved and practiced across generations.
The deeper lesson came through the island’s pace.
Bali taught me that wellness can live in the undoing. It can emerge when we release the need to fill every hour. It can appear when the body finally receives enough time to settle. It can grow through rest, silence, and reflection.
Sometimes healing begins when we stop demanding that every moment produce something.
I had spent years searching for wellness through action. I tried treatments, followed protocols, and researched every possible solution. Bali reminded me that the body also needs spaciousness. It needs moments without performance, measurement, or expectation.
That stillness allowed me to recognize how exhausted I had become. My body had been asking for rest long before I understood how to listen.
Bali gave me a place where listening felt possible.
I remain fascinated by the island’s treatments, traditions, and spiritual practices. I also understand why so many people return home describing Bali as healing. The island creates room for something that many of us rarely experience in our daily lives: the freedom to exist without constantly rushing toward the next demand.
I arrived prepared to resist the mythology.
I left grateful that Bali gave me the time and space to become still enough to feel like myself again.