In 1995, after the end of my 2nd marriage, I decided to go to Bali to grieve,  so as not to burden my loving family. My work, then, was healing others but I needed to heal my own soul, and chose Bali because of its legendary living spirituality.  Hindu tradition combined with an indigenous spiritual culture perceives sentience in every form; and that aliveness, not  a usual perspective in the West, is enchantingly pervasive.  Birth and Death—the natural aspects of living—are celebrated here.

Everywhere I went, walking or riding, I was aware of the deep spiritual practices of the people of Bali.    There were altars everywhere, tended daily, exquisitely laden with fruits, flowers and rice.  Beautiful Balinese women in traditional dress could be seen almost any time of day carrying trays of offerings to various altars throughout countryside, seaside villages and towns. The sound of gamelan music being practiced or performed permeated the hot, humid October days and nights with magical vibrations. Nowhere else in my world travels had I seen such devotion to the sacred expressed so openly.

Day by day, steeped in this healing environment, I began to let go of the burden of my recent dissolution and felt my heart opening in Bali’s atmosphere of gentleness and grace.

My last week, I traveled to the fairly new Serai Resort in Candi Dasa, situated on the Bali Sea.  I noticed a altar on their lawn near the beach.  It appeared to be very old.  I asked the concierge about it and was told that in Bali, when someone develops a piece of land, they allow whoever had an altar on that land to continue to maintain it and to worship there.  I had made an altar in my room with shells and flowers and a photo of my beloved Teacher at that time, Jean Dunn.

One evening, standing on my patio, I noticed a woman gracefully carrying an offering tray to the Serai’s altar across the lawn, about 30 feet away.  She looked directly at me, and I returned her gaze, and she turned and approached me.  Wordlessly, we went into my room to my little altar.  The woman placed flowers on it, and pressed rice grains at my forehead’s 6th chakra, and as we gazed into each other’s eyes, I “heard” her SILENTLY ask me to heal her.  Without hesitation, I placed my hands on her where Intuition guided me.  When I removed my hands, she smiled, bowed her head and turned and left.  Not an audible word had been exchanged.

Is this not the miracle language of the heart?