I’ve been in Bali for two days and I’m staying in accommodation recommended by a friend. It’s early morning and I send her a photo from our bungalow veranda, showing the pool, palm trees and glistening still ocean. It’s the perfect picture of paradise. I write “Loving it here! Thank you so much for the recommendation.”
She messages one minute later, “Hey I need to talk to you about something serious. Is now a good time? We can chat later if you’re busy right now.” I wonder what she could possibly want to talk to me about that’s serious.
I call her. She’s in tears and I can hardly understand a word she’s saying. I’ve known her for seven years and never seen or heard her cry. I’m known as the one who cries. She’s known as the one who doesn’t.
She manages to tell me that our friend Trina had a heart attack and didn’t make it. She died in her arms. Then she tells me she has to go and ends the call.
Trina was my closest friend in Bali. We’d spoken the week before I arrived and had plans to catch up the following week. She was a fellow Aussie and her youngest son is a year older than my daughter. The four of us hung out together a lot when we lived in Bali, and she was the first person I’d organise to catch up with whenever I returned.
Trina was an adventurous soul. She’d suffered more heartbreak than most. Her integrity was fierce. She had the best laugh. She died at 55 years old; a few months older than me. Her death has led to me asking myself, with a sense of urgency I haven’t experienced before: What do I want for my life? How much of my life is being lived by default? How much energy do I still invest in being who other people want me to be? What would my life look like if I chose what I truly want?
In lieu of a funeral, Trina wanted a traditional Balinese ceremony with a Mangku (priest) and then for her ashes to be thrown in the sea. We all wore our temple clothing and sat on the grass by the beach in Sanur while the Mangku chanted, rang his bell, and blessed the urn with Trina’s ashes in it. Some of the ashes were put in small plastic containers for those who wanted to keep them, and then Trina’s eldest son poured the ashes into the sea. Some of us threw flowers into the ocean and we all stood together on the sand saying our goodbyes to our beautiful friend.
I’d planned to see the High Priestess again, and had booked for a rare pilgrimage with her and a couple of other people to go by a traditional Balinese paddle boat across Lake Batur, visit sacred temples and receive special blessings, chants and prayers.
I was unwell on the day and couldn’t go, and the High Priestess agreed to see me privately another day instead.
I arrive at her Griya (traditional home/ashram) and am greeted by a barking dog and an elderly lady who offers me coffee and smiles and tells me I’m “cantik” (beautiful). I’ll take it. These days, it’s only the older ladies who tell me I’m cantik (except for the young Gojek rider with long hair who was wearing a cool jacket and sneakers and told me I have really positive energy and asked me how old I am and didn’t believe me at all and said I must be kidding because he thinks I look like I’m 38).
I sit and wait on a small vinyl couch and see the remnants from a ceremony the night before. There are two framed photos of a young man who’d died. The older lady tells me he was American and his name was Michael. In her broken English she asks me where I’m from.
The High Priestess arrives and invites me up to her temple. We sit cross-legged opposite one another and chat. I tell her my friend died and I’m feeling sad. She tells me she’s very sorry. Then she says, “You are fine in the physical world. There are challenges sometimes that happen for everyone but you are okay. You’ve been through a lot and you are strong. I can feel you are longing for something spiritually that is hard to explain. It is time for a more wise power for you. The power of compassion. People don’t understand that Kali is the highest form of compassion. Kali is the energy for you to embody now.”
Kali is considered a Dark Goddess, a symbol of the unknown, death and destruction. In Hinduism she’s deeply revered as a fiercely loving, protective and compassionate Divine Mother. Her energy is intense and transformative. I’m not afraid. I’m someone who willingly stands at a threshold of truth with my arms wide open. I trust whatever unfolds afterwards. I trust my truth.
The High Priestess asks me to meditate while she chants and I enter a trance state. I make involuntary sounds and cry at times, and do my best to breathe deeply.
Then she tells me to stand before her for Melukat (water purification ceremony). She chants, pours jugs of holy water over my head, tells me to stamp, scream, wash my heart and belly, and stretch my arms.
She initiates me into Kali’s energy and I cry tears of gratitude as I listen to the messages I’m given. I’m told about the next retreat I need to run and when, what to call it, and what to include. I’m given other ideas for my work and living in ways that see me more connected with and guided by my truth and trust in life.
The High Priestess hands me a hot pink frangipani and asks me to stand before the temple to integrate and make a wish. I make more than one, for myself and those I love most. The sky starts to drizzle. She smiles and tells me that’s a blessing for me.
My hands in prayer position and tears in my eyes, I thank her profusely and leave.
In the weeks since seeing the High Priestess, the ground beneath my feet is quietly shifting in ways I never would have predicted. At midlife this isn’t new for me. All of us stand at various thresholds throughout our lives: we evolve as leaders, partners, parents and friends, we evolve through grief and loss, we navigate midlife, an empty nest, reinvention, exhaustion from over-functioning, success that doesn’t feel meaningful anymore, a longing for deeper aliveness – and more.
As old identities fall away, it’s easy to think that something has gone wrong and needs to be fixed. But falling apart can be a movement towards wholeness, a doorway to more aliveness and meaning.
It’s human to want to turn away from what feels uncomfortable. Our task, as gently as we can, is to feel, to listen, and allow our experiences to unfold, and to trust that what’s falling away isn’t the end of the story.
What’s coming is more of who we truly are. The ground needs to be cleared to make room for it.
Who are the women the world needs now?
There comes a moment for us all when the old version of power stops fitting. We’ve pushed, performed and held everything together, intent on being capable and useful.
We’ve also been changed by our successes, grief, loss and love. And now, we’re listening for something deeper. The version of strength we once relied on doesn’t work anymore. Life is asking something deeper of us.
The women the world needs now are not louder, harder or more perfect. We are more whole.
We are women who can hold the complexity of truth and tenderness, power and compassion, depth and aliveness. We are women who no longer abandon ourselves.
The world’s longing for women who will shape a future that works for everyone – in our communities, families, workplaces and culture.
Let’s be the women the world needs now. Let’s honour our truth, whatever it looks like.
Let’s do this together
Connected
This conversation has been alive in me lately: In a world that’s intent on distraction and disconnection, at a time it’s becoming harder to discern what’s real and true, how do stay connected to our truth?
How do we stay connected to our power in a world that would rather we didn’t? How do we stay connected to ourselves amidst endless noise that makes us second-guess our intuition and deepest wisdom?
I’m wondering too: When was the last time you made a decision based entirely on your quiet inner truth (rather than outsourcing to an app, AI, algorithm or feed - or someone else)?
I’m bringing together a small, intimate group of women. We’ll meet online but this isn’t a course. We’ll connect with ourselves and one another in real time. We’ll gather in sacred space and you’ll become more fully yourself as you reclaim your authentic truth, voice and authority.
I’ll be sharing all the details later this month. If Connected is speaking to you already, reply to let me know and I’ll give you access first.
Radiant Heart retreat
I’d planned to run my next retreat in May 2027 but during my visit to the High Priestess I was told it must be in September 2027 – so it will be.
It seems like a long time away, and I’m not someone who loves to plan so far ahead. And – I always trust a download I receive while I’m with the High Priestess. I’ve also received the entire program for the retreat and have found the venue. It’s exquisite, and its name translates to “sincere pure heart.”
I’ll be releasing all the details in the next couple of months. If you’re already feeling keen, reply to let me know and I’ll give you access first.
I choose not to charge for what I write. If you’ve enjoyed reading it, I’d be grateful if you clicked on the heart 🤍. This will help make my writing more visible to other readers. Thank you so much. I appreciate you being here.
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