People have always idealized Bali as a place to “find oneself” “heal” and all these promising tag lines that initially held a very deep meaning until it became a cliche.
“She’s doing an Eat Pray Love”
Yep, it has become an adjective in the 21st century, kudos to Elizabeth Gilbert.
I moved to Bali at the end of 2021. It is something that has been calling me in my wildest dreams, but was always diminished by my relationships that always seem to take precedence over everything else in my life. I wanted to stop being that girl. The girl who was always in a relationship and doing everything together with her boyfriend. I wanted to build a person that I love that had nothing to do with a partner. I’ve always loved nature, being so dedicated into a sport, being close to the beach. I wanted to live the carefree life, and oh, have a tan skin.
Moving to a new place encouraged me to become that person. It gives you the opportunity to have a redo on life, a refresh on your identity. A new look, a new passion and hobby, and new friends, without forgetting the old ones. You don’t know anyone in this new island and therefore you are free to be who and what you want to be, compared to your previous life where you have unconsciously built a version of yourself and are used to people having certain expectations of who you are.
I believe in “we are what we do”
In my solitary moments, I searched and discovered things that I like, and built a routine that I love, and do it as often as I possibly could. It gave my life meaning. It gave me a reason to wake up to every morning.
I would wake up every morning to the sunrise, gargle a huge amount of water, check the surf forecast for tide, do some unnecessary scrolling before finally walking down to the toilet and officially starting my day. I’d turn of the AC and open the living room windows, feel the weather, pick a bikini to wear for the day depending on my mood and the weather. I put on my sunblock before getting my hands dirty to pick up my surfboard and mounting in onto my scooter. Rosie will inevitably jump on the scooter, we drive off to the beach, we come home dirty, and that is my humbling morning routine.
After a hot shower and lunch, I would ideally start working on my painting if I don’t fall asleep from the strenuous surf sessions I had. I’d put on some music from my playlist or Spotify’s Discover Weekly, then start working. I’d snack and scroll in between while realizing the temporality of my painting hours window. I could only paint as far as the sunset goes, as it gets dark and would be difficult to paint; and I hate white lights, they make my eyes hurt. Dinner is most of the time food delivery, as is lunch, then I would end my day either scrolling or reading a few pages of a book. Rosie sleeps on the couch. There goes my day. It may get quiet sometimes but I get a lof of things done alone. My routine makes me feel grounded and “on track”.
In solitary moments is where we find ourselves, which to me, is defined by the things we do, the art we make, the food we eat, the books we read, the music we listen to, and perhaps the things we think about. All of these things are bits and pieces of a big puzzle piece that makes up who we are as a person.
