Limits of Stillness

I feel the itch for freedom. Ten days I’m in this big studio with these thirty people. Ten days I’ll be indoors when my favorite sun sets. Ten days I’ll be paying close attention, mind under control. Ten days I’ll let someone else guide me and I’ll follow. Ten days I let go of being a know it all and open my pores like a hungry sponge. Ten days I sit on the floor, sliding around on cushions and switch body positions every few minutes in search of comfort. Ten days I’m scribbling notes, golden statements I’ll return to in the future; perhaps they’ll be lyrics, perhaps you’ll hear me, dear student, speak them to you out loud while you stretch in your living room. Ten days I’ll eat in this gorgeous vegan gluten free cafe, please feed me the hood stuff!! What my body lighten up! Ten days I’ll remember how fun it is to run around the world doing whatever I want, creating art, teaching, playing, growing my business, messaging friends and followers. Ten days I’ll be mostly silent and my ears will tire from overwork. Ten days and I’ll learn more than I realize I’m learning. I’ll know later when it rebounds out of me, fully integrated. Ten days of belonging in my comfort zone, the yoga studio, amongst the yogis, the teachers, the healers, the space to be.


Fuck that was the hardest yin yoga class of my life. Three hours of stillness and slowness. It was painful for the mind as the body realized I was actually paying attention. Deeper and deeper my awareness sunk like an anchor into darkness. Twitching, breathing, flashbacks, crying, not moving, feeling through it, anger at the teacher, rebellion, revolt, swearing, surrender, releasing, giving it up, fighting back again, letting go again. This is my limit. I’ve never gone through stillness and silence like this before. It felt cruel. I did not want to be there. I fantasized for a moment.; I could stand up, walk out, just leave the mat on the floor, call a taxi to go straight to the airport and fly home. It is too difficult to be on the mat while I move through this emotional distress. I reached for protection, distraction, my pacifiers. Why am I doing this when I could be painting, writing, live-streaming, swimming, anything apart from looking straight inside myself in this never ending silence. I don’t want to keep looking at these memories. How much deeper does this go? How much more is there?

This yoga practice changed me forever. I know myself differently now. It altered and radically improved my relationship with myself, with my body. It opened a new line of communication from mind the body. This is what it means to slow down and be with myself. Actually. Fucking beyond intense. The hours eventually ended and I stormed out of the studio, angry and grateful. I moved into a deeper space inside myself.

There is light in the darkness of this somatic yin yoga practice. I love feeling my body with my hands, especially the texture and layers of tissue in the forearms. I open my eyes. Instead of cement, I see jungle trees. Instead of car traffic, I hear running water. Instead of alone, I sit in a group of yogis. Instead of Self-leading, I’m being led. I realize I’ve been focusing on what I don’t want to happen instead of focusing on what I would love to happen. I was prepared to be pushed and I suffered and when I was invited to flow freely and unleash, I finally arrived in the present moment, inside my body and suffering ended. I smiled and relaxed in sensual pleasure. Problems went away when I moved my body freely. I felt moved to love. Instead of staring intently at a drishti, my eyes are closed, I’m in the dark with myself the entire time, for hours. Hours in inner darkness. I’m so accustomed to the external world and the drishti turns my attention inward while maintaining awareness of surroundings. Now, the outside world doesn’t exist anymore because I’m fully inside myself and it’s pitch black dark in here. The eyes stay closed as all thirty of us drop deeper into soma, somatic awareness, our bodies, and we’re listening to watch the bodies are saying to us. The music helps me feel my way and not get lost in here.

I jolt, clench, cry and squirm, trying to turn away from the memories that have haunted me for years. In this deep pain I have neglected sensual movement, sexual pleasure, feminine self touch, dance, music, singing. It helped me to acknowledge what I have lost.

I lost my first husband.

I lost my second husband as I wanted him to be.

I lost my potential children.

I lost my grandma.

I lost my home.

I lost my best friend.

I lost my career when I switched to a new one.

I loved my beloved car.

I lost my privacy, my space.

I lost my yoga studio.

I still have my health.

I still have my friends.

I still have my parents.

I still have my skills and passions.

I still have my freedom.

I lost my peace.

This is all valid. Cry about it!

Ladies Play on Nusa Ceningan

The sea turtles are surfacing. The ocean water is perfect turquoise. I sense my body’s conditioning, the strict Ashtanga discipline. I also sense the lazy kid and the wild woman. Give me a routine and give me freedom. Give me commitment and give me freedom. Why are the turtles swimming in the morning waves? Is it feeding time close to shore? I’m feeding myself on the cliff.

I am grateful….

I love myself by….

I choose….

In the power of choice realize what you are choosing. Accept that you are choosing and with that realize your power to choose differently.

I walk to Klyf Club before the sun gets too hot. I walk by little boys shouting over video games, dogs barking and scooters zipping around the corners of these quiet streets. The gas station is a bundle of gasoline filled plastic water bottles for sale beneath a palm tree.

The sun is high and hot when I walk down the steps to Secret Beach Point and spot Rae splashing in the shallows. Two women in the water with her. All of us solo traveling in Bali for yoga and art; American, Australian, German and Dutch. I brought my paint supplies and whipped out six new paintings in fifteen minutes as I felt my skin being fried, sandy rubbing into my burning flesh and sweat rolling down my arts and behind my knees. So bright then light, it strained my eyes to stare into the colors on my canvas. Painting almost blind and laughing!

I badly “need” a manicure. My nail polish is peeling. The skin on my feet is itchy and swelling. Would you believe me if I said I missed the jungle for a moment? And do sea turtles accidentally bump into each other? Do they ever come up for air and get smashed by a wave like a new surfer?

This trip has allowed me space to connect with dear friends very old and very new, to meet people who are choosing the lifestyle I’m excited to be living.

You need to believe that your smile genuinely makes a difference because it does.

Please take me, bring me, to the frontier where all of us hold hands and say, “I don’t know and this is amazing!”

In this moment, I am writing on the cliffs in Bali watching Sea Turtles while my mother is swimming with dolphins in Hawaii, my brother is with the love of his life at a family celebration in the Arizona desert, my father is in the Atlanta airport awaiting departure to Santiago, Chile from where he’ll set sail for Antarctica, my husband is in Seattle learning to play golf and building a boat and a couch, my friends are in countries all around the world building their families and businesses and enjoying their passions.

With the ladies I ate Mexican food at The Palms and said goodnight to the sun through the party lights at Sea Breeze while swimming my tongue in big sips of Strawberry Mint Iced Tea, a little uncomfortable yet content in the hammock suspended above the incoming tide! Tomorrow morning I catch the fast boat back to Bali.

Boat Adventure to Nusa Lembongan

94% humidity makes it harder to breath. Just walking around town, flat ground and fit body, I have to sit down and catch my breath. Sometimes I’m dizzy. A long walk this morning to the Post Office to send gifts and paintings back to America. Mom will care for them until I return. Multiple withdrawals from the ATM to stock up on cash before leaving Bali. A boat leaves for the Nusas in a couple hours and once I hit the water there will be almost no ATMs for a week. Bags packed at the AirBnb, I spend my last hour in the jungle purchasing a new pair of flippyfloppys!

The healthier my body becomes the more I lean into healthy habits and the unhealthy habits just drop away. They fade into my disinterest. I have an actual repulsion to the unhealthy habits. I’d rather have smoothie than coffee. I’d rather have vegetable than even chocolate! I’d rather listen to music than binge on any scrolling distraction. The rain of Ubud washed away the coping methods that had been holding me together. I turned through all the habits and crunches; sex, food, chocolate, coffee, messaging everyone. The only things I didn’t turn to were scrolling social media and watching Netflix. Those habits are long gone in my past, haven’t been in my field of awareness for a few years at least.


When I first landed in Bali, I didn’t want to listen to music. Who am I in the silence? Only in the silence can I feel the music. Only in the silence, can I listen deeper to myself. The music has returned to me now. A long stretch of silence, I kept filling it with vices until the pain I was avoiding was fully felt. And like I keep saying, the jungle raindrops welcomed my tears to come out and play with them. Splash splash and let it go!

Water is dripping onto the floor beneath the clothing I’ve hung around the bungalow. Deep sea waves crashed over the boat and the pink duffel bag was submerged…all the canvases and all the clothing. It is beautiful fortune the watercolor paper was store in a different backpack and the finished paintings were shipped to America this morning. Near miss. Had the watercolor paintings been in that bag they would be looking completely different now, smeared and blended beyond control.

Tourists are landing their legs in salty water and walking up the perfectly soft white sand, looking around for a driver to take them to hotels. This entire island is connected by broken roads and golf-cart like cars, trucks and trolleys ferry humans to and fro between hotel, restaurants, spas and boats. I appreciate the limitations. Ubud was overwhelming at times with how any activities, sights and roads could be chosen. I feel the soul in this body relaxing inside the simple beach life. Again, the feeling of “I never want to leave” is flowing in my blood. I smile to myself and wonder how many days will pass before I shake that feeling and look to the horizon with fresh curiosity.

The boat ride to this island awakened my spirit. I felt joy flush through, an uncontrollable smile, laughter even, as the rain and waves soaked hair, shoulders, clothing and eyebrows. I was drenched and in love with this magical moment. Headphones playing EDM, a piece of dark chocolate melting on the tongue and a child next to me in the same blissed out state. The boat was packed with forward facing adults keeping somewhat dry while this boy and I stuck out heads and hands out the window to be with the weather. Water and air washing this body clean. Cleanse me! The grounding earth and transforming fire have had their way with me in the jungle hills. I look out at blue and grey and feel I am the most solid thing out here. The water surface is dusted with white sparkles, raindrops on rolling ocean swells.

Umbrellas cover each tombstone. The truck bounces along the broken road quickly by the cemetery nested in the forest. Something bangs along the roof of the truck carrying us tourists through the island jungle. Mangos, not monkeys.

Mud squishes between my toes as I walk barefoot down the rock and sandy road. He dropped me off and the pointed “hotel that way”. The men who welcome me into Le Nusa Beach Club struggle under the weight of my waterlogged bags. I love everything about this.

My feet love the sand, little white speckles on my toes. The stones catch my eye, such an unusual shape. I think of my father, a geologist, and wonder what rock lesson he would give me now.


Wet umbrella in the corner, bugs dancing in the lamp light. The flying bugs occasionally tickle my skin, distracting me from this book that just made me laugh out loud. Shantaram! Watermelon juice and guacamole. Healthy food is harder to find on this beach. I watch the nightfall from a cliff above the waves and send pictures to people I love, people who support me, people who are so thrilled to see me at the beach. I turn off my Kindle, pay my bill and walk to another white mosquito netted bed to lay my body onto lavender scented pillows.

My final thoughts before sleep, typed quickly into phone notes...

“And now I’m into adulthood and onwards towards death, reaching back into memories of a wonderful childhood, I can remember life before I realized where I was headed. Childhood was this gift from my parents, a moment of life before I understood the end of it. Childhood was a glimpse into eternity. Childhood was taste of freedom I would crave forever and walk the long short road of my life to find again so I may die in my childlike spirit, free and at peace in the wonder.”

Love and Rainbows!

Cha Wilde

Batik Painting and Communication



“Yoga doesn’t make you feel this way. This is your default state. Yoga brings you back to it,” said the yoga teacher with deep passion and a familiar Los Angeles accent. At 9am I pushed back into downward dog and behind me saw a vegetable garden. The wind blew through the open studio and I heard a clear voice in my head say, “I don’t want to go back to Seattle.” Why would I leave the warm soft wind and outdoor yoga studios? This is amazing.

From a coffee shop loft I attempt a YouTube livestream. This only leads to frustration or exhaustion (not sure which), exasperation? Bad internet means my livestream cuts out every few minutes so I started it late and ended it early. It’s somewhat easy for me to let this go. One of my intentions for this traveling adventure is to test my business and learn how to work remotely. Internet failure moments are part of this learning curve.

Giving up on YouTube, I turn to Facebook messenger and call Davey. He dances around the kitchen naked, smiling and pointing to a freshly baked pie. He says he misses me and wants to see me soon. My heart starts beating and feels nervous. A part of me feels pressure to travel home sooner than Ive been daydreaming. A part of me wants to keep traveling and another part wants to go home and cuddle. Internal storms rising.

He suggests we go snowboarding next month for my birthday. I feel tension fill up my body. I was just been laying on the yoga mat in the tropical wind hearing that voice in my say it didn’t want to go to Seattle or anywhere cold. I love the soft warm wind and my almost naked body outside. My husband invited me on a fun adventure in the snow and all I felt was a big misunderstanding. This part of me who has longed for warm weather was shocked. Why would he think I would want to go to the snow for my birthday when all I daydream about is sunshine?

He starts telling jokes about something else and the feeling of disconnect grows as his energy lifts and mine drops. A part of me feels unseen and hopeless as we struggled to communicate. Moments crush in as he says with a stern hurt face that he needs to go to sleep and my heart feels broken as my new day begins. Timezones.

The rest of my day was churning through this deep uncomfortable painful emotion. All the years of painful moments have been surfacing to the top layers of my awareness.

Finally, after weeks of showing up with pure curiosity to a variety of healing sessions throughout Ubud, the deeper layers have been touch and seen more clarity and the tears break free and the release begins. Rainy season has arrived in my system.

I loved myself today, practicing yoga twice. I drank many glasses of fresh juice, filled 7 pages with ink, struggled to do a YouTube livestream (internet sucked), and found light in the present moment, my love of creating and the warm air.



From 1-3pm, I was receiving a 1:1 Batik painting class from Wayan. I found this opportunity on AirBnb experiences. It was charming to be in the mess of a family’s home as they wrapped me up in a sarong, held my hand to show me the proper angle for positioning the tools on the fabric and laughed with me for being their least talkative student. “Other students talk and don’t do. You don’t talk. You just do.” They found it amusing that I used multiple colors and liked to blend them in rainbow pattern. I was in a paintbrush meditation and roosters were in conversation all around me. Jerry the dog kept walking around and a staple gun was snapping nearby, attaching fabric to wooden frames. This lesson was given to me by the son of a Batik artist. The father had been creating Batik for 35 years. His son makes the tools, teaches lessons and drives taxi. Friendly as always and so grateful. “Thank you for support me on AirBnb. Thank you for give me job.”

With a wet Batik painting stuffed into my backpack, I headed to The Yoga Barn for a second yoga class of the day.

“Vinyasa is the art of listening to your breath and flowing with it,” said the yoga teacher in a commanding yet smiling Balinese/British accent. At 4pm I turned upside down and let the tears roll into my ears.

Limbs loose and emotions still heavy (I felt like I was carrying around a fish tank full of water in my chest), I sat in the yoga studio cafe to eat dinner. I ordered a Buddha Bowl, a sparkling ball, and a ginger Kombucha. All I crave these days is raw veggies and meat-alternatives for protein. I crave juice, probiotic drinks and medicinal cleansing potions. The idea of heavy foods makes me feel unwell. So a bowl of simple cut up whole food was chewed as I listened to voice messages from my best friends.

The music for ecstatic dance was starting up. The moon was up and the yoga studio was transforming into a dance party. Heavy still in my chest with no space to connect with any of these beautiful humans around me, I called my mom. “Hi mom, I feel so lonely. I need a hug from someone who loves me. Everyone who actually knows me and loves me is so far away.” For two hours I told her all my problems and she totally understood them all. She reminded me to take care of my basic survival needs. “When the problems feel overwhelming, return to keeping it simple. Walk, eat, drink water, sleep, breathe. If you do this you can find peace knowing you’ll survive and if you survive then everything else will pass. You’ll make it through and eventually be able to solve the other problems. In fact, you’ll solve them better later once you’ve taken care of your body’s survival needs. If you’re in survival mode you won’t be making wise decisions. After food and a night of good sleep, your problems probably won’t even feel like problems anymore.”

I am so grateful for modern technology allowing me to stay in conversation with my beloveds. I am so grateful that I am the daughter of an adventurous woman who loves being a mother. She promised me I can call her anytime for the entirely of my life. “Remember, moms don’t have timezones. I am always happy to hear from you.”

Love & Rainbows,

Cha Wilde

Treating Myself Well in Ubud

How many times have I not listened to my body? How many times have I heard the body, my soma, speak loudly and clearly and I have turned away, shut her down and denied her request. How much more painful now when someone else does not listen to me or turns away? No, only am I not here for my body.

My favorite coffee spot in Ubud is Keliki Coffee, up in the jungle canopy! A GoJek scooter takes me up and down the very steep rural roads to this hidden gem. I’m making friends with the owner. He’s a kind smiling Balinese man who works every day of the week. He only takes days off to drive to other cities when he has errands to do. His artisan coffee shop in the jungle been open 1.5yrs. I like this guy. He’s young and relaxed…like pretty much everyone here. The bathroom is underneath the building, open air to the world. I love it.

Another 90min full body Balinese massage at Putri Spa Ubud 2, another dip into deep relaxation. This has been my best massage spot in Bali so far, reliable deep restorative moment. My Oura ring tracks my restorative moments. More restorative moments in the day lead to better sleep and a more easeful life.

Massage complete, papaya slices eaten, ginger tea all gone and I jump on the back of a GoJek and ask the nice guy to drive me to Nusantara.

I’m taking myself out to a lovely dinner this evening. My stomach is so hungry it hurts. I’ve ordered the chef’s set menu. I read about this place in a book. A high end Indonesian food only dining establishment. Table for one pretty please! The ladies are sweetly smiling as they pour my sparkling water, place a jasmine ice tea on the table and lower a napkin onto my lap.

I’m chewing on Kwong Sawah Pedas… rice field snails. I am allowed to take my time. Chew slowly, delighting in ever flavor. I share this table only with myself. There is no rush, I repeat in my nervous mind. I’m used to being rushed and I am not being rushed by anyone now. So I chew slowly and my lips start to burn on the chilis.

I sit here and hold myself in the present. No book or phone scrolling. Which parts of me sit at this table with me? A part who is conscious of her aloneness in a restaurant; conscious and comfortable, mainly aware of other people’s wonderings and assumptions. That’s the least interesting thought path though. More interesting thoughts….

A young part of me, a girl, lies and doesn’t say “no” when she doesn’t like something. Why? Did you witness someone you looked up to enduring? Memories of stiffness in the bodies of the adults who were around me when I was little. I can feel the tension in the bodies of the restaurant guest around me now. So much stiffness to protect us and what are we all protecting ourselves from? Aren’t we all relatively friendly here? Don’t we all wish happiness and health for one another? What have we all been through to get to this point where we dine together tonight and these bodies are armored?

When I eat dinner at The Yoga Barn the bodies are loose and wiggly, sprawled out and entangled in soft, limber lounging positions. Their hips and shoulders move in fluid motion as they wait in line to buy juice or dance in the courtyard outside class. Awareness is in the air and vitality is in the Jamu (I wanted to say water but the the water here is poison).

Am I an empath? Am I actually able to feel what the people around me are feeling? I wonder at times because I feel what I know is not mine. Am I naturally observant? Yes. Have I been trained to interpret the energy as it flows through the human body? Yes. It’s a lot of information for me to take in when all I wish to do is sit and eat dinner. I’m already full of sensory input with each bite of food on my tongue. The ears take in all the conversations, moving dishes and cars outside. My eyes take in colors, lights and expressions. My nose is mindfully feeling each breath and my feet feet the fabric of the cushion beneath me. I’m already receiving so much information in this moment. That’s just the present moment.

Each moment also triggers up memories of the past and my mind is alert with ideas and plans for the future. Poetry flows into my head and out my typing fingers. I’m witnessing a full spectrum of emotions fluttering in my torso that my nervous system is processing, so much debris roiled up from all the healing work I’ve gone through in this jungle.

On top of all this, my soma is reading the body language and energy radiating off the dozens of humans chattering around me. Their energy is like strong perfume. I rub my hands together beneath the table and feel friction heat build between my palm. I form a magic bubble, invisible for all, and expand it out to surround my body and the table holding my meal. I will eat inside my own energy. I will hold this shield around me so I may be unaffected by the many beings in this room. I must remember to engage this before I enter the busy rooms. To understand what I’m describing, please activate your imagination and refer to a Marvel superhero who can create a protective energy shield around herself…I’m creating something like that to help me enjoy myself in a world that can be intense when I am a highly sensitive animal.

The restaurant behind me, my feet cross the street and enter into Pina Colada. I’ve licked these windows (as the French would say) many times with my eyes. They sell rainbows I can wear. I took three home.

I cross the street a second time and pick up two golden rings. I’ve held these little circles of jewelry in my mind for days and weeks since arriving in this jungle town. They called my name, the caught my eye. What do they mean? I now wear three golden circles on my left hand, one circle around the finger and two floating above it. I wear a second ring on the right hand, a gold hoop with turquoise stone. Every ring on my hands holds deep symbolism. The three circle ring is now a reminder of big Self and little part. I am with Self. This has been a sacred lesson I integrate in Bali. The turquoise ring is the butterfly you follow down a path towards a magic surprise.

And then of course, let us complete this day by dipping into Tuckies Coconut Shop and ordering two scoops of coconut ice cream inside of a coconut, topped with coconut shreds.

Headphones on, favorite tunes helping me dance down the sidewalk, dodging tourists, I slip through a narrow gap in the wall and sit on secret steps behind the palace.

Love & Rainbows,

Cha Wilde

This is the artwork I created today…

Can you love me? Letter from a Treehouse


He said this is the part, the part when I feel lonely, the part when the masculine energy of adventure longs for a feminine home. This is the part when I have to learn to hold myself, to be with myself fully in this moment. This is the part that will be the challenge. This is the part when I am out there, penetrating the world, doing it all on my own, screaming, crying.


Can you give me what I want and need? I want and need two way emotional sharing, introspection, presence and deep stillness together. I want and need consistent, reliable communication with great detail and deep listening. I want and need challenging questions and firm gentle touch that stabilizes and comforts me, balancing the energy of my wild spirit that whips like the wind. I want and need spiritual partnership, making me laugh while holding me accountable to my greatness.



Can you be my friend, lover and partner in play and pleasure? Can you grab my hand and take me on exciting new adventures, blow my mind with sexual power and push me beyond by example? Can you lead me where I want to go?

Lead me to open to more humans. Lead me safely through sexual adventures so I may enliven more of myself. Sing and dance freely in public with me, playful silly, light-hearted.

Show me something new. Balance me. Invite me to rest. Invite me to just be, to go deeper, to be alone.

Watch me master your skills and surpass my teacher. I desire a teacher beyond me. Respect and admiration lift my gaze.

Perhaps at first you were the leader and now I am the leader. Perhaps, now I am the one who is out front. Can you keep up?

If you drag me down, do I cut you off? My hope for you keeps floating.

I am fool when I change anyone but myself. I am wise when I give space and opportunity to grow. I leave be and expect nothing.

You are free to be or grow. Choose for yourself.


Can we improve in different directions or does all improvement lead to the same place?

Faith is the new practice.

Eyes are open for the first sight of new teachers, new partners.

Where are the humans who are opening new doors for us, holding doors open for us, boosting us up to tickle new heights with wiggling fingers and cheering us on with pure delight?

I hunger for new.

Who can show me something new?

“you are my champion.”

“you are my goddess, she is my princess.”

I tried so hard to become a goddess and now with those words I feel how lonely I am. The champion and his princess run off and play together, teasing each other on rocks and he carries her around. And with me, what do you do?

I bring you wisdom and peace, calm gentle love when you need it. And where is my fun? Who is carrying me around, nibbling on my ear?


I thought I wanted to be this strong. Now I realize being this strong means I had to be broken down to build myself back up. I am strong because I had to be. I am strong because you didn’t carry me. I am strong because I chose to carry myself and now I am alone while you embrace the weaker woman who needs you. I wish you were as strong as me.

Maybe you are. Maybe that is our problem. We don’t carry each other. We just meet and look each other in the eye and the thrill of surrender is gone.

You cannot dominate me anymore because now I am dominant. I have risen. I will not bow to you because you have not yet learned to bow to me.

I bowed to you when I thought you were greater and I looked up to you. You were on my pedestal. And now, there is no pedestal. Now, there is just me and you.

I am not impressed by your actions because now I can match them and exceed them. Now I am beyond and where are you?

How can we dance together now? How can we dance together now when I no longer fear you, you no longer control me, and your mystery is no mystery to me.

There is just emptiness. This is a dead-end unless you open your door and walk through the pain into something more interesting.

“Show me later.”

“We can’t do it now because you’re going to bed and I’m in hell.”

“Well, enjoy the flames.”

Love & Fire,

Cha Wilde

Healing Upside Down with Women

Two mini pieces of toast for breakfast and I was out of there. I was eager to move out of the jungle house. Bags heavier than before with new paintings, new clothes and new food, I waddled out of the rice paddy and sweat rolled down my forehead as I descended the narrow stone staircase to the street. A car drove me across town to The Yoga Barn.

I spent the afternoon in a Fly High aerial yoga class; dangling upside down on a rope swing basically, laughing, crying and stretching my way back into the present moment. The teacher encouraged us to have fun. “If you’re not having fun, maybe you need to change something,” she said, pointing to her mind. I did have fun and it also hurt to move through the emotions that were rising through me on this nineteenth day in the Balinese jungle.

A young part of me feels loneliness and she feels fear. She is trying to prove herself. I give her the pen:

“When I stop working I feel my loneliness. My work is social and keeps me unaware of my emptiness. My desire for love, family and partnership. Simple happiness. 

On my own I’m just lonely, sweaty, wondering what is happening with my life. Wondering why I feel this way and what will make the discomfort go away. The beautiful day spirals down into drama as I remember the pain I run away from.”

And another part writes,

“You sir, cannot take away my loneliness. Your hug will not make me happy. It pains you to see me in sadness and that pain in you is not about me. You sir, cannot make me feel better with your love. You want to try and try and never will your love be enough for me. Never will you be able to give me what I need. What I need is love from within me. What I need is acceptance of my pain from me. I need to embrace the loneliness and love it like I love myself, like I love you and everyone else. I need to love the loneliness in me until it is fully given home and belonging and then, maybe then, I will be at peace and that is when I will be full and enough. I am enough when I am fully me. I am only a gift when I am fully accepting myself. When I am truly myself, truly who I am, then I am a true gift. You see, you cannot give that to me. Thank you for offering to hug me when I am lonely and thank you for stepping back to see what is really needed here. Thank you for simply seeing me and bowing in respect for my humanness. Thank you for seeing my pain and seeing your pain and feeling our togetherness in this life journey. That is all I need. Space to be myself and remember who I truly am. Who I truly am is at peace. Everything else I move through is just the journey home to myself. See? No need to worry. Just blow me a kiss as I move through this and I’ll catch it on the wind and smile as I go.”

And another speaks,

“How am I a strong woman when I’m lonely and tears roll down my face. How am I strong woman when I sacrifice myself and feel disgrace? When I let him win and lose myself.”

As these intense sentences flow through my mind, I feel myself reaching for a guitar or piano. I want to sing these feelings into lovely lyrics. These emotions feel stagnant and they’ve been hiding deep within for a long time. I feel them surface on my days off, when I am not distracted by work, constant creation and thrill. When I just sit alone and stare at the leaves and the raindrops, these are the heavy feelings that float to the surface, squeeze in my gut, tug at my heart.

Ayla and I shake our heads and laugh, covering our faces with our hands. Why do we feel like this? My new Turkish friend from Berlin with curly hair is a sweet delight. We are both in Bali to heal from relationships and we are both content creators online. We both live a lifestyle now of pretty photos and traveling wherever we fancy. We are both carrying journals and signing up for yoga classes. We both want to pick up the phone and call somebody and we are both resisting making that call. It is wiser to leave it be although aching loneliness won’t leave us alone when we do.

While I was trapped in the jungle house with bugs, Ayla accidentally spent four days at a romantic honeymoon hotel. Everywhere she looked she saw couples. Intense for her. We reunited at The Yoga Barn, ready to continue the healing. I’ve got her drinking raw cacao with me.

I write and I cry. I hang upside down on yoga hammocks and laugh with other upside down humans. I stretch until my muscles release the emotions stuck deep in the layers of tissue and all the blood rushes to my head. At four o’clock, I’m healing. At five thirty I’m healing. What am I doing at seven pm? Healing. I’m healing alongside all these other humans in the jungle. We have all come here to this magical spot to heal. 

What are you healing, everyone asks me. What am I healing? Years of human relationships have done a number on me. I’ve been navigating relationships from the moment I was born and there is a lot of unpacking, untangling and releasing to do. From day one to year thirty three. All is well. This is all good…a juicy part of the journey. 

Love and Rainbows,

Cha Wilde 

Shamans with Room4Dessert

Drop me off at a strangers house, down a long ally, dogs barking and bonfires smoking. A Balinese shaman opens the door and calls off the dogs. We kick off our Sandler, she points to the green cushions and pours me a glass of water. “How can I help you,” she asks. I didn’t know where to begin. I read about her in a guidebook and followed my curiosity to her practice room. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s not feeling good in your life? What’s not working? What has been painful or uncomfortable for you?”

Cross-legged in an uncomfortable chair, I emptied my stories onto her table. She nodded, smiled and said, “ah” many times. Maybe I spoke for 20 minutes. Then she spoke for an hour. The best way I can describe the experience… imagine a motivational speaker speaking directly to you. Every sentence is customized for your exact problem. It was like drinking from a firehose. I had to stay perfectly present to receive as much as possible while everything she said triggered ideas, understanding, reminding me of how to live and be at peace.

Chakras, neutrality, it’s all inside me, childhood wounds are buttons pressed by adult partners, partnerships are for growing up together, when you’re not able to communicate it’s a dead end, when you’re not growing anymore it’s time to let go, accept people as they are, be at peace when you fully accept how you are completely. We grow when we release trauma. The mind can transform when it is trained and it can only be trained when it is calm. Heart can’t hear mind because kind is busy. Throat chakra get blocks in between. I actually have to be with myself and accept as I am. All these problems I have are just conditioning. Why are you married? Why did you get married? What actually am I healing from? Why are you here? How can I help you? What do you actually want? You are only a gift when you are truly yourself.

This healing experience was the main course of my day, stuffing me with clarity and wisdom. A driver dropped me off at my pathway (can’t drop me at the house because it’s buried deep in the trees) and I quickly changed into a pretty purple dress. Full of spiritual guidance, I scampered off to Room4Dessert.

Quinn looked up with a smile as I entered the garden and we didn’t stop smiling for three hours. A tour through the fresh herbs growing around the restaurant and then twenty one courses of heaven. Each plate was a piece of art, evoking longing rather than satisfaction.

Every seven courses we were relocated to a new part of the restaurant. Mocktail pairings lit up the sweet flavors that kept appearing before us. We sat before the chefs and newly arriving guests walked through the kitchen to see the show in action. “I’m living through everyone’s faces when they come through the door,” said Quinn.

We ate sugar, chocolate and fruit for hours and shared our Bali stories. We met each other for the first time at the Seattle airport, one month ago, right at the very beginning of this adventure. While I’d been painting on cliffs, livestreaming tropical yoga and traveling to the depths of my psyche in sound healings, Quinn had been leading groups of tourists on island adventures. She didn’t want to fly home to America the next day. Many times over our twenty one course meal she lamented leaving Bali. It made no sense to leave this beautiful island. She was only going home for her cats and a few responsibilities. All the women who are leaving envy my plans of staying indefinitely. Women, at least the women I keep meeting, are breathing freely here in Bali. They feel safe here, open hearted and alive again.

On this night I also learned again the healing power of laughter. Four days of bug-overload and my spirit was sinking. Four hours of laughing about bug-overload with another woman who was in the same bug infested boat and my spirit was lifted and floating high. Quinn told me about the two lizards that fell from her ceiling while she was in bed and the giant dragon lizard in her doorstep. We laughed at the same bolt of lightening that struck us awake with fright the previous night. We both thought the island was exploding for a moment, eyes pop open, sit up straight in the dark as all the houses were shaking around us.

We both had stomach aches and felt faint from the high humidity. It’s hard to even walk up the street when the air is sopping wet and hard to breath in. Before my shaman and desert adventures I had spent the early hours of this day walking around shopping for a new duffel bag, wandering down ancient abandoned jungle paths and eating vegan nachos beside a coi pond.

By the time I crawled into bed, I wasn’t alone in the jungle anymore. I slept soundly for the first night that week. No care in the world for the bugs all around me, I sniffed the lavender scented pillow and fell asleep.

Love & Laughter,

Cha Wilde

Gratitude is Genuine in Bali

When the Balinese people ask me where I’m from, I say, “America”. They’ve never heard of Seattle. When they ask, “How many times you been to Bali?”, I say, “This is my first time.” And then their face lights up with a sweet smile and with one of the most sincere expressions of deeply felt calm joy, they say, “Welcome to Bali.”

I’m at my favorite spa and Rini is massaging my feet. She asks me where I’m from. I say, “America” and again with deep authentic gratitude in her voice she says, “Thank you for coming.” I can tell she really means it. She isn’t thanking me to be polite. Why is she actually personally this grateful? I’m just a customer and this is just her job.

I remember my taxi driver now, the one who transported me from Melasti Beach to Ubud. He sold most of what he owned; his bike, his car, his instruments. He sold whatever he could to make money and survive through COVID. His island suffered when the tourists stopped coming. The Balinese economy depends on tourism. My driver said Bali is only 50% recovered today and everyone is so grateful we are returning.

I am grateful to be in Bali. I am grateful to see humans living in relaxation. I am grateful this man gets to smoke his cigarette and blow his smoke out of the cafe. NB: I’m not a fan of the smoking, I’m a fan of the freedom. It doesn’t bother me (yet) because so far I’ve been able to keep a distance away from second hand smoke. I just get to watch a human from afar being left alone to do his thing, whatever that may be. Relaxed vibes. I am grateful for barefeet walking around restaurants

I am grateful for vegan restaurants serving beautiful dishes that feel like artwork as they slide onto the table before me. It is a treat to eat in these designer foodie spots.I’m grateful to be able to eat this healthy food, to enjoy the visual beauty of it, the satisfying flavors, the smiles of the staff and the hours I can spend sitting here totally undisturbed to write and create. There is no rush here. Just relaxation and beauty.

I am grateful for new patterns. I see new shapes in the art, architecture, clothing and jewelry. Swirls, waves and dots. I slow down when I walk by the art shops, old men holding their paintbrushes ….. painting ON THR FLOOR like me!! I lean in and study their colors and patterns. Swirls and little dogs and rainbows. Now I play with these patterns in my paintings each day. I’m watching my art evolve one day at a time. It looks different to me now and it’s strange to see something different emerge from me. It’s like looking in their mirror and seeing a different reflection. What am I becoming? What is my art becoming? A free fall and trust into whatever wants to intuitively emerge. I’m practicing non-attachment in this work.

I am grateful for dragonfruit and flowing clothing. The decor is gorgeous. The food is gorgeous. The flower petals everywhere. The statues of elephant, monkey and gremlin gods are grinning, peaceful and intense on every corner, in front of every door. I’m grateful for the Boeing and the smiling, the hands in prayer and the sweetness in everyone’s voices. I was sitting in the cafe late into the night with Ayla. The cafe staff cleaned up, closed up, and packed up. The whole troop of them, ten humans who had just worked a long day in a kitchen, counter and restaurant, walked up to us with smiles and said, “The restaurant is closed now. It’s okay you stay. Is okay we go to our home now?” Ayla and I were shocked and touched. “Of course! Yes, please go home. Thank you!” Wow.

Many gorgeous restaurants are open and empty. Maybe I find them at the down hours. I hope they have business when I’m not there. I am grateful This island is full of beautiful safe places where I can sit and write, drink and enjoy a moment. I am grateful I am able to exchange money for experience in these charming businesses and see the gratitude light up in people’s faces. It is simple and it is deeply real, deeply felt.

Love and Rainbows,

Cha Wilde

Footpaths and Insects

How far does the world around me extend? Down low on the streets everything squeezes close and alleyways wiggle around a seemingly small world. High up, the world of a jungle crawls out to the edges of the earth.

I walk through a new neighborhood, a little village on a hill where cars don’t drive. Foot traffic only through twisting slippery paths, footprints left in wet cement. I travel quickly down these paths. Something makes me want to get through faster than down in Ubud center.

Humidity builds sweat droplets on my forehead and back. I pass dogs, painters, expats and smiling ladies carrying baskets who ask me if I want to buy their Jamu.

Hidden in these tiny streets I pass a mini book store and I never see people inside. A young man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth is hammering on the edge of am under-construction swimming pool.

I turn down one street with a row of scooters and a row of fruit. I turn down another path and follow it along the wet rice paddy.


A painter is sitting on the floor of his studio adding color to a half-painted canvas. His paintings are a modern take on Indonesian art; he tells me he was trained by a painter from Holland.


Back at my house, the days are rainy and lonely. Tears fall with raindrops, emotions heavy in this weather. The plants are far too close to the windows for comfort. Mosquito nets are like teeth brushing. You get all cozy and then you remember you’ve got to get up and do the thing. Ants crawl on my toothbrush handle. Bedsheets are damp. Clothes are damp. Shower and pool are completely unappealing, I don’t want more moisture and the water is poison. Every brush against my skin makes me jump or retract. The jungle bugs have me on edge.



I miss the salty ocean air that blows way the insects and the clean sand I roll in carefree and the clear water I slip into and float away all worries. You see, ocean water carries my worries away while jungle water breeds my worries into something worse. I don’t trust my own bed. I could be falling asleep while something else crawls under my sheets.

I fluff the sheets and think of my mothers guidance — always fluff the sheets to make sure there are no spiders. Her advise felt excessive as a child in Seattle and extremely relevant now in Indonesia; most likely she learned this trick right here a few decades ago. The bugs and humidity is everywhere. There is only escape when I leave the jungle. So long as I let the jungle hold me, I soak in her healing sweat, gnawed at slowly by creatures and old parts of myself I can’t see, I can only hear in the dark. I must learn to be at peace with these little monsters, inside and outside.

This is the spider, outside my kitchen window, currently making my skin crawl.

Jamu is in the fridge of every cafe and grocery store. I buy one bottle a day and drink the whole thing.

Love & Rain,

Cha Wilde

Rain Rain Rain and Writing

I am Wayan, the first born. Everyone here has the same names, names that indicate birth order. Seriously, everyone has the same names both men and women. Just a few names around and so many smiling faces. Like these two ladies smiling up a storm in the rain at The Yoga Barn….


I am holding back selling paintings. I want to display them in a show. To gather a full collection and then show them off together. I could sell them after that. I feeling grinding gears when I go to sell them through my online shop. The intuition or something says no. I just announced I would sell them now and still, I will trust and obey my intuition. I believe if I follow it on matters of business it will sing louder and clearer for me in all other areas of life, there for me when I need guidance. It is fair to say I am where I am right now because I followed my intuition again and again. Somehow it’s working well.

I’m practicing painting with green and studying the shapes of the leaves that surround me. I love the splashes of tropical pink and orange.

The men who are my lovers have made me feel alive in different ways. Alive in danger, alive in connection, alive in temptation, alive in creation, alive in presence. I am writing about them here. When The idea first occurred to me to travel to Bali it was bundled with the idea to write a book telling the love stories I’ve lived so far. This would be a healing project. I sense (again with the intuition) a deep need to express these experiences, to release them from repeat, drain them from my body into ink, so I may be a little lighter and my basket of journals will be a little heavier. I wonder how many pounds of ink I have written in my lifetime. — I am writing in a house that is completed hidden in the bushy palms trees, in the middle of a field surrounded by wet rice paddies. This is a picture of my house and you cannot even see the house. I am hiding inside that green jungle in the middle. I took this photo before the rain turned the sky moody grey.

From 1-4pm, the monsoon keeps me inside. I’m grateful. It means I sit down and type. I get work done while the rain pours. It’s ridiculous to even try going outside. The roads are empty. Humans clear way for the falling rivers. Around 5pm the roads, now damp, are swarmed by humans, beeping scooters and crawling car traffic. Rush hour hits and smoke fills the air. Fires are grilling meat along the sidewalks; skewers of chicken.

It’s impossible to escape the rain. Even when I shower the rain is participating…inside the house. The open roof bathroom is lovely and it makes me skin crawl with fear of bugs touching my hand if I reach up to scrub my hair or snails sliming onto my shoulder if I recline in a bath. For me, an outdoor bathtub is too exposed in the jungle. For at least a 10min shower it would be relaxing to be cut off from the outside elements, to soap up my body without wondering if a giant spider is somewhere nearby. It’s the wondering and looking under the table, under the pillow, under the shower curtain, inside the toilet paper roll…it’s the wondering that keeps me on edge.

It would be nice for just one moment to know with confidence the bugs could not touch me. Perhaps, I’lol pay a little extra to visit a fancy modern sanitized spa in the city center today where bugs are less present and the only creature enjoying the comforts is me.

Love and Rain,

Cha Wilde