Towards the end of my trip, I was walking to the Green Window for breakfast when a little Balinese man slowed his motorbike and came to a full stop in front of me.
He greeted me warmly, like we were old friends.
He said: “You love your life. You love your life so much. I see it here.” {Pointing to my third eye}.
“You are wide open. Your heart is wide, wide open.”
Taken aback by his astute reflection, goosebumps prickled on my skin.
Why, yes.
I did love my life.
And my heart was more open than the sky.
If only my new friend could see me two weeks later—home and hollow, heart closed in anguish, anger, and shock.
When two people come close to touching the deepest parts of their hearts and just as quickly, activate each other’s shells and withdraw, it’s heart-breaking.
Even more so when those two people want exactly the same thing.
I’ve spent many days and nights wondering why my trip ended the way it did; why it had to hurt so much.
In the inquiry, I’ve come to clarity.
I see now
that everything I asked for,
I received.
The only mistake I made was attaching to how I thought it would look.
What we need for our healing is always delivered. Lightly at first. And then louder and more alarming until we can’t look away.
What started in Bali as an intention to heal and look at what I’ve been covering up—well, everything was un-covered up.
And coming home to a worldwide pandemic, I had nothing to cover it back up.
With our usual distractions stripped and the things we numb with, dismissed, we can no longer run from ourselves.
Our “stuff” is coming up for air.
And it’s waiting to be greeted by love.
To be seen so tenderly and swathed in self-responsibility.
To heal not only at the surface, but deep down, so it stops coming back.
The longer we put this process off, the more pain we re-create.
And pretty soon, you come to see,
it’s been you all along, breaking your own damn heart.
Now as I sit here, one month later, pieced together again, I notice my tan fading. My skin, shedding.
Soon enough, Bali will no longer live on my body and just like my skin, parts of me are shedding too.
With the motion of devotion, I purge and practice.
I let go of the woman I have been.
To make room for the woman I choose to be.
This woman—she does not close, she opens deeper.
When abandonment dances on her doorstep, she does not abandon herself.
She feels into her heart, her pain, and expresses it.
She asks for what she needs.
As the Observer and Witness, she holds space for her fear, and for his.
This woman—she owns what she wants and settles for nothing less.
She feels the depth of her heart’s yearning.
And walks away from anything that isn’t it.
This woman—she is the gift.
Her love is sacred.
Her worth is gold.
And until she is met by a man who can match her and claim her, she gives herself to love itself…
She loves her life.
She loves her life so much.
And she stays open—her heart stays wide, wide open.
With life & love,
-Kayla
P.S. Promptly after his astute reflection, my new friend asked for two things:
1.) Will I come back to Bali so we can meet again?
2.) Will I please take a selfie?
💜
WANDER THE WORLD WITH ME?
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