We set our sights on sunrise atop Mt Batur which meant the dreaded 2am wake up call followed by hiking up an active volcano in the dark. The goal of summiting seemingly wasn’t enough so we charged hard with flickering fizzling flashlights while sprinting and scrambling our way. At the time, I had been racing bikes and running busy coffee shops for years so my body didn’t really know what “slow” meant. Our guide even tried to encourage us to take some breaks and enjoy the climb. When we continued to quicken the pace he simply said, “If your happy, I’m happy…tired but happy.”

We were one of the first to crest the top where we drank some of the best “worst” coffee while waiting for others to join because any warm drink at nearly 6,000 feet above sea level at 5am is delightful. A local was playing American campfire music on a mandolin as monkeys scurried around and beams of light slowly submersed the sky. The panoramic view overlooking a lake and plush, green mountains with a sunrise adorning the horizon like a crown over such sacred land was well worth the trek.

When hiking down, crumbly tumbly pieces of lava rock seemed to slip beneath my feet. I quickly went from feeling elated to worried when my ankle turned with an audible pop and a tingling sensation flooded my foot. At that moment I was reminded of an Ayurvedic doctor’s advice to rest and relax more just 2 days prior. I suppose climbing a volcano before sunrise wasn’t synonymous with slowing down? Besides, how dare Mother Bali interrupt my stride of yoga-ing, fun with friends, exploring beautiful sights, eating tasty treats, indulging in cheap massages and shopping the saturated streets of Ubud! My expectations were blown and not for the good.

Steam from the active volcano and greenery as if from “Lord of the Rings”

The locals quickly sprung to action and I was precariously placed on the back of a scanty scooter. Suddenly I found myself clinging onto a small Balinese girl be-bopping down the volcano. My right foot braced a scooter peg while my left foot dangled attached to a pathetic puffy cankle.

We made it to the base where the locals swarmed around like busy Balinese bees offering ice, ointment and the opportunity to go to a healer. Hmmmm, well I was completely across the globe in a third world country and couldn’t walk so why not? I had heard of these Balinese healers from friends and of course in “Eat, Pray, Love” so they seemed legit plus I was in a F**k-it phase of life and feeling up for anything. Life had been dishing out some seriously sassy lemons so may as well enjoy the bittersweet lemonade of experiencing local culture.

We arrived at a compound with dilapidated homes and smiling friendly faces that embraced this silly American girl hobbling along. I was led to a home with no furniture or electricity where I plopped down on a big pillow. Nausea set in when I realized the healer was a 90 year old man with a cigarette in hand who didn’t speak a lick of English. Then again why would he? I was the stranger in his country and home hoping for help.

Talking through a translator I sobbed my whole story while the healer poked, prodded and pushed upon the swelling, smothering what seemed like dirty oil on my cankle. I was told the healer was massaging the area which actually felt more like torture, but was assured that this was okay and just how broken bones heal in Bali. Surely I was skeptical but my intuition said to trust.

I suppose all that pushing and prodding paid off because when I finally got an x-ray at the Ubud clinic the fracture was in line to heal. They offered me mismatched crutches, a cast and suspicious pain killers that I didn’t take. I also decided against a cast and instead wore a brace, went to healers (mostly acupuncture) and used yoga therapeutically to slowly rebuild strength and flexibility. Somehow this stabilized me enough to get back to the states a few months later, stronger in spirit and rich from audacious, auspicious adventure.

Post healer and clinic x-ray still smiling :)

This literal falling on my a$$ was also a nice lesson of letting go of ego served with a healthy dose of humility. After spending years caregiving, I had no idea how hard it was to be the patient! This was just a small injury compared to the giant cancer journey we navigated so I could still only imagine how difficult it was to be incapacitated for so long.

Perhaps the most precious part of this trip was trusting my intuition to stay in Bali to heal rather than panic and take the insane plane back home to CO. I am also grateful that breaking down physically caused the dam of tears to break free, finally allowing emotion and grief to find it’s way through me. I learned to sit, journal, read, reflect, meditate and cry everyday to to heal my heart while slowly re-stabilizing my ankle. Sometimes I think I am just stubborn and have to learn the hard way when things come to a screeching halt but then I remember that I am also doing the best I can and practicing imperfection.

Through personal experience and my yoga therapy training I believe that injuries teach us so much. It’s normal to think we got this…stay strong, persevere, work hard to be rewarded. We push onward while our bodies keep the score, holding onto all we stuff down and bury inside until one day something breaks…breaks a bone, breaks the heart or simply breakdown.

Now I ask myself regularly, “How can I slow down?” “How can I give myself more grace?” This softer side is the greatest take-away from being broken in Bali. Giving myself grace does not come naturally AND it’s absolutely necessary. I injured my left ankle, the stable base/root on the softer more feminine side of the body. When I find myself forcing square pegs in round holes, moving too fast, being too critical or rigid, my ankle stiffens up reminding me to slow down, turn inward and have more self compassion in life.

Looking back, breaking in Bali was the shattering of my ego and a deliberate exhale from the busy pace of life I reluctantly yet obligingly led for so long. Once broken, I was forced to physically slow down because I couldn’t even walk. The insights, epiphanies and holistic healing that organically unfolded in Bali bestowed beautiful blessings beyond expectations or conscious control. I felt in the flow as I let go and allowed it to all run through me like a slow, smooth river (with occasional rapids, of course :)

Read on for Broken in Bali Part 2…

A new dawn, a new day and I’m feeling good :)

Broken in Bali - Part 1

Info

Action