The Doors That Led Me Home

Bali hasn't changed me, it's simply helped me remember.

The drive from the airport after over two weeks of travel from Georgia to Hawaii to Japan and then to Bali was one of the most panicked moments of my life. As a family of 5 we were traveling across the globe to enroll in a new version of Earth School. My husband and I had visited Bali 12 years ago and to say it has changed since then is the understatement of the century. Still, something inside me knew that moving our family to this special place would not only be an adventure we’d never forget, but literally something that was a necessary as food and water.

Yet, when we finally arrived after months of preparation and loads of logistics, I instantly questioned everything. It was not what Instagram told me it would be. The traffic from the airpot to our AirBnB in Canggu was horrific, the streets were ugly, and when we finally arrived to the villa we had rented for a few weeks, my heart dropped (and not in a good way). The villa was gorgeous… the streets surrounding it, not so much. The design made my heart sing, but the smell of the cleaning products and bug repellent used in the bedrooms was suffocating.

As we were driving around the area and beginning to explore, I could see absolute terror in Willow’s eyes, my oldest daughter who is extremely sensitive to her environment, smells, and energy). I kept saying, “isn’t this amazing? Can y’all believe we get to live here?” But on the inside I was beyond worried that we had made the wrong move. I expected beach time, but the beach was not that great. I expected rice paddies and greenery, but was met with a lot of soot, grime, and grey. One expectation I had that was met, though, was the food and incredible interior design in just about every business and restaurant.

One expectation I didn’t have and has now become one of the main reasons we live here is how cared for and held I feel. In our first week on the island, I experienced the most nurturing childcare not only at our villa, but also in restaurants- It felt so foreign- people really love children here. I am used to places saying they’re family friendly but in truth they don’t actually provide the conditions to welcome families other than a kid’s menu with chicken fingers and fries as the option with some crayons and a coloring sheet (if you’re lucky)

I remember voice texting one of my friends in those early days and crying because I wasn’t sure what we were doing, but I knew we had to do it… crying because I felt like I had made a huge mistake, but knew it was the right decision… crying because it wasn’t what I expected, but actually so much more. I remember walking around the pool at our villa while our youngest boy, Silas, was napping. Ben had taken the older kids out to a cafe, tears rolling down my face. I had this overwhelming feeling as I voice texted my friend (soul sister) about what I was feeling, the truth of the situation- but ultimately the line I remember most is one I said to her on repeat, “Amongst it all, I just feel so held, though. I feel so held. You don’t really know what it feels like to be held until you’re held.”

It brought back memories from when I found out the children got accepted into Green School months ago. In 2023, we knew we were ready to move. To where, we had no idea. We just felt the sensation of being so grateful for the roots and grounding that our hometown offered, but no longer had room to grow. It felt like we had hit our ceiling and in order to continue growing as individuals and as a family, we needed to change our conditions. We thought we might move to Mexico, Costa Rica, maybe even Portugal, but Bali is the place that pulled us the strongest. The only way I can explain it is it was like a powerful magnetic pull that made no logical sense, but it was the only thing that made sense in our hearts.

We decided that we would set our intentions and then leave it all up to the Universe. We got clear about what mattered to us, my husband and I. We talked with the children about their dreams and wishes for everyday life. We talked about what was most important to us in regard to lifestyle and education for our children (and ourselves). We put it out into the Universe and then we trusted that we would be guided to where we were meant to journey.

We applied to Green School, we attended virtual meetings for a community in Costa Rica, we did loads of research and at the end of the day, Green School resonated with us the most, so we said, we will apply and if the children get in, we’ll move to Bali… If they don’t we’ll find somewhere else that is calling us. Every single morning while on the toilet, I would check my email because I knew due to the time difference we would likely receive the email during their working day, which was our time for sleep. So it became a morning ritual for two solid months before I did anything, I would check, my heart pounding before I clicked the gmail icon every single time.

Finally, we found out. They were accepted. And I instantly started crying. It was the wildest feeling because I can’t describe it as excitement. It wasn’t giddiness. It was really knowingness- like my soul knew something my mind didn’t. And in that moment, I said out loud, “I get to go home. I get to go home now.” I proceeded to ugly cry as if I were genuinely relieved to finally get to go “home.”

So you can imagine my surprise when we arrived months later with only 5 suitcases to our names (we literally sold or donated everything we own- our house, cars, furniture, clothes, EVERYTHING- except for our art… I will never part with that- shoutout to my parents for storing it for us in their basement) and being in absolute panic. I wondered why on earth I was so so elated to get to go “home” and yet, I felt nothing even close to the sensation of HOME.

However, after living here for nearly 8 months, I can now say I am home. Bali is not home, but I am home. I don’t know if I’ll ever really be able to call a place HOME. How can a PLACE be home? It can feel like home, sure… but can it BE home? I now understand that home is within me. It’s a sensation I can feel in many places so long as I have the spaciousness to be who I came here to be, so long as I am tapped into my true core essence, so long as I’m operating from a place pure authenticity.

Bali has shocked my system in every way possible. The grimy streets that once perturbed me and grossed me out now feel so precious and sacred to me. The frustration with the overgrowth and development is met now with a deeper understanding that that is what Bali does to people- it makes you want to create things, make things, birth things… of course there is a constant boom of new businesses, new art, new people. It is called Mama Bali because it holds the frequency of the MOTHER, a nurturer, a healer, a creator- one who births. And at the end of the day, Mama Bali is just here to guide you back home to who you are and why you’re here.

The life we are living here keeps me on my toes and rocks me to sleep within the same breath; it is unpredictable and hard at times and yet I have more abundance and spaciousness internally and externally than ever before. As I walk my children from our eco village to get on the bio bus, which takes them to school in the morning, I am met with dog poop and griminess AND beautiful offerings with the sweet smell of incense and the most heavenly smiles from the Balinese people with every step, while listening to the humming buzz of motorbikes, the sound of construction AND the mesmerizing sounds of the richness of the jungle and all her animals alongside the rushing flow of the river. It is the way of Bali- grittiness and chaos on the street and just beyond, through the impeccable beauty of the Balinese doors, boasting intricate carvings that continually blow my mind and take my breath away, lies another world… one of beauty, magic, and absolute medicine. There is a radiance here that reminds me of my own enchantment, grace, and sacredness. One that is always alive and rich, but often times I can’t see because it’s hidden. The truth, I hide it from myself.

Recently, I have come to understand the doors of my heart as the ornate balinese doors, like a carved portal into another dimension, a sacred gate etched with prayer, but mostly a guardian of beauty. Now I understand why it’s so important to have these dramatic doors that stand tall and proud, laced with myth and crafted with thick wood and heavy stone because on the other side of those doors is HOME. They hold back the dust and noise of a busy world, they block the grittiness and grime because what’s through the doors is simply too beautiful, too rich, and too sacred to be touched by such muck. This is what Bali has done for me ultimately: remind me of just how magical and beautiful my HOME is and therefore, I should protect it at all cost. Outside, there is a lot of noise and chaos, but when you find the courage to cross through the threshold of your own heart, you get to come home… you enter a world where time slows down, where the smell of incense and frangipani engulfs your senses, where beauty is all you see, where abundance is inevitable, where light pours in like a bath of blessings, where all you can understand is love.

So, this “coming home” has nothing to do with a physical place and everything to do with my inner space. It has been a journey that continues to unravel as I do and for that I am eternally grateful. I am not witnessing a better version or a shiner version of myself, simply a more real version. Bali hasn’t changed me, it’s simply helped me remember more of who I am and why I’m here.

I am home- not because this place is perfect and feels like home, but because I am finally coming home to myself. Every day, with every breath. Amongst the ache and the beauty, the challenges and the bounty of living life on the Island of the Gods, in the wild cradle of Mama Bali, I have come home.