Mike Was Orchestrating It All
Each day began to unfold on its own.
In Bali, it became the ultimate experience to be spontaneous and follow the crumbs, or nudges, that Uncle Mike seemed to be sending me. One day it led to lunch with the godfather of Indonesian surfing. Another to brunch with a woman who had quietly loved Mike, someone none of us even knew existed. Another to his regular dinner spot, owned by a dear friend. Then there was the spontaneous stop at his favorite café, where the workers simply asked, "What happened to him?" I listened closely each day to my heart and where I felt called to go.
At the same time my son was asking to go to Indonesia, my friend was hosting a spiritual retreat in Bali. Not knowing the island at all, I started researching what it might look like if I could do both. Take my son to experience the surf, see where Mike had lived, and join the retreat.
It seemed too coincidental that these opportunities were all presenting themselves at the same time, but I still hadn't fully bought into it. It felt like a lot. Flights weren't coming together yet. Could I really pull this off?
I couldn't ignore it, though. Every piece of the trip kept nudging me: surf for Camren at G-Land and the Bukit, exploring Mike's world in G-Land and Uluwatu, and the spiritual retreat in Sidemen, a place I knew absolutely nothing about. We decided to trust it. I booked the flights and hotels, and we were all in.
The only part I intentionally left unplanned was my final four days after the retreat.
The boys would be flying home before me, and I wanted to stay longer. But I wasn't sure yet. Would I feel complete with my Mike work, or would I want to return to Uluwatu and uncover more?
Mike's friend who was helping me plan the trip confirmed exactly what I was thinking.
"That's the perfect way to do Bali. Once you're here you'll get a feel for it and be able to better decide where you want to go. Let your intuition guide you."
Boom. He's speaking my language.
After the major pivot (read my last blog, "The Biggest Win," to catch up on this!), where the boys spontaneously, and very last minute, navigated a change from a surf camp in Padang Padang to heading out on the boat to Bobby's G-Land on East Java, the place where Mike had lived and worked for so many years, I was finally ready to head off to my spiritual retreat.
I had hardly given this part of the trip much attention because I was so focused on Mike. All I knew was that someone I knew and trusted was co-facilitating a retreat with her spiritual teachers, a husband-and-wife couple of high priests. I didn't really know what to expect, and I was excited to leave the Bukit behind and head into the lush mountains. I was ready to get away from the expats and scooter chaos and settle into villages and greenery.
I was enamored with the drive through remote villages and narrow roads.
I could feel myself taking deeper breaths as we climbed two hours into the mountains.
It wasn't until I got settled into my room that I looked out the window and noticed the massive mountain standing directly in front of me: Mt. Agung, Bali's highest peak and most sacred volcano.
She was breathtaking.
Most days she hides behind a layer of clouds, but that afternoon she revealed herself completely, standing tall and strong, almost as if she were welcoming me.
A few moments later, I remembered a photograph I had seen of Mike sitting on top of a mountain as though it were no big deal.
I quickly found the picture and texted it to the dear friend who had been helping me navigate this trip.
"Hey, do you happen to know where this was taken?"
Ha.
His reply came back almost immediately.
"Of course! That was the top of Mt. Agung. A motorbike trip Mike and I took around the island through the countryside villages, ending at Mt. Agung where Mike raced to the top like it was nothing."
Me:
"Of course. Of course it is."
Standing there looking at Mt. Agung, it suddenly hit me.
The very volcano I happened to be facing every morning of my retreat was also one of Mike's treasured memories.
From the yoga shala where our group gathered each morning, I could see Mt. Agung whenever she chose to reveal herself. I could also see the narrow country roads winding down from the mountain. Every so often a motorbike would make its way along those roads, and I would smile.
That's exactly what Mike did.
He rode those roads.
He climbed that mountain.
Of course he did.
That's when it became clear to me.
Mike was orchestrating it all.
Not necessarily to show me where he had been, but to introduce me to the Bali that had captured his heart.
He had sent the boys to the ocean, to the waves he loved so much, to the jungle at G-Land where his heart lived, and to the people who had become his family.
And he had sent me to the countryside, to the land, the villages, and the people he had loved just as deeply.
If you've ever wondered whether life is quietly guiding you somewhere (or you've experienced moments that felt too meaningful to dismiss) I invite you to explore my YouTube channel. I share gentle, somatic practices that can help you slow down, reconnect with yourself, and learn to listen to those quiet inner nudges.
I hope you'll find something there that supports wherever your own journey is leading.
👉 Want more reflections like this? Make sure to subscribe to my newsletter for free breathwork session & to receive weekly plus weekly practices, insights, and inspiration to help you slow down, tune in, and reconnect.
👉 Curious about working together? Book a free call to explore how somatic support can help you feel more grounded, clear, and connected—no pressure, just a nourishing conversation to meet you where you are.