
I’m sitting crossed legged on a batik cushion in a circle of women, grateful to have worn my comfy Balinese wraparound pants. We’re in a traditional wooden joglo near Ubud’s Monkey Forest.
In the centre, is a Tibetan sound bowl and a selection of stones representing each of our seven chakras.
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Soft waves of smoke from burning incense float directly towards me and I swallow nervously, praying the smoke won’t trigger an uncontrollable coughing fit. Today is a new moon. And my first women’s circle.
“Would you like me to remove the incense?” asks Lisi, the group facilitator, noticing my discomfort.
Ten pair of eyes turn towards me. “No,” I say, suppressing a cough.
“I’ll just brush it away when it wafts in my direction.” I swat my hand awkwardly to demonstrate and attempt a zen-like smile.
I couldn’t have done this a year ago. It would have been totally out of my comfort zone. That was before I relocated to Bali with my family.
For someone who approaches new things from a “no” perspective, saying “yes” to uprooting our lives in Sydney, heading to the tropics for a few years and enrolling our daughter in Bali’s environmentally-focused “Green School” was pretty scary. But here I am.