The Art of Surrender and Noticing
Originally written on October 17, 2025 in Ubud, Bali
This year’s trip to Asia was FULL of moments when I told myself, “I don’t want this moment to ever end.” I’ve gained this talent and ability to rethink how I understand and witness how time moves. There have been distinct moments throughout this trip to Tokyo, Jakarta, Bandung and all across Bali when I’ve wanted time to stop ticking in its normal cadence.
I felt it in Tokyo when I took Andy to one of my favorite gyukatsu restaurants. My brother and I went to this restaurant for the first time in 2017 and to this day, it’s a dining experience that I think of often. As I was enjoying my own bites of food and peering over at Andy to see if the meal had a similar affect on him, I remember thinking that I never wanted this meal to end. As the crispy pieces of fried meats disappeared from my plate, I wondered how I could prolong each bite and chew of the juicy beef, perfectly cooked rice, and crisp cabbage salad. I savored each morsel, I chewed as slow as I could. I drank in every corner of that room. I watched the chefs work neatly and meticulously as they gracefully moved in their small, open kitchen.
The feeling happened again during one of our last nights in Bali at our hotel. It felt like we had the whole place to ourselves. I remember our nightly swim under the moon and beside the candlelit pathways. We talked about our upcoming wedding, the places we wanted to show friends and family, the beaches we wanted to play at. It was on our last day together that I decided to sign up for a yoga teacher training in Bali that following month.
It may have been one of the many best decisions I’ve made. While it sacrificed my time spent in Jakarta wedding planning and seeing family, signing up for yoga teacher training and spending three weeks in Bali has been magical.
During my 10-day, 100 hour intensive training (I only could attend the first half of the course), I’ve gotten more in tune to the voice within. I learned how to be gentle with myself, when to pull back when something didn’t feel right, even though my ego told me I could push through it. I learned that while I thrive in solitude and being selfish with “alone time,” there’s a lot to be learned from witnessing the people around me.
One fellow yoga teacher-in-training who was especially insightful and thought-provoking was a 12-year old young man named Jacob*. When I first saw him, we were all getting settled in before our opening ceremony. He was peacefully sitting on a cushion meditating while everyone else was chatting nervously or finding their own space in a room full of strangers in total awe of what the next weeks would hold.
Over the next 10 days, I grew to know Jacob, his interests, his perspective on life. He brought his own kind of curiosity to our classes about anatomy and yoga philosophy. He made me laugh and he made me think bigger. Despite his short-lived life, he had so many stories and experiences that I could relate to. We quickly became friends and now I’m glad to know someone who lives in the Caribbean!
Apart from our mornings of breath work and meditation, and afternoons of mind-blowing discussions on anatomy, teaching methodologies, and pure consciousness, my favorite part of each day was our post-breakfast chanting with Dada, a tantric monk. On day one he taught us the chant, Baba Nam Kevalam, which translates to “love is everywhere.”
Dada taught us about the meaning of this mantra and continuously shared stories of people surrendering to this philosophy and finding ultimate peace. We spent nearly 20 minutes each day chanting this tune in a circle facing each other while he played his acoustic guitar. We all started the chant with our eyes closed and arms above our heads in an act of surrender while we moved our bodies back and forth to his tune and each other’s singing. It was truly a magical way to start each afternoon.
After a couple days of memorizing his tune and the guitar’s beat, our entire group sang the mantra in harmony. There were times when I’d open my eyes during the song and see all of my friends dancing slowly on their mat, smiling sometimes, or serious in through. With hands in the air surrendering to the room, or with hands at heart center, we all had our own way of experiencing this melodic chant.
Being the sympathetic and overly-empathetic person that I am, I often caught myself truly feeling the love in the room, with the sensation of love enveloping me. I felt love and warmth permeating that room. I’d get images or thoughts in my head of loved ones back home, sometimes visuals of us all at our upcoming wedding. That chant was comforting and it got louder and more vibrant as the days passed. Like a true Cancer, I often felt tears coming down my face as much I wanted to hold them in.
As we approached the 100th hour of the yoga teacher training, I knew fully well I didn’t want to leave but knew I had to move on with the next part of my journey. (There were two solid days where I really considered cancelling all of my plans and staying through the rest of the training. It killed me inside to not finish with all of my new friends.)
On my tenth and last day of yoga school, I felt that sentiment of “I don’t want this moment to ever end” so heavy in my body and heart. The tears that day were nearly uncontrollable and I hoped that the others next to me weren’t picking up on my sad girl vibes.
When that final chant was over, I opened up my eyes and instinctually glanced over at Jacob, my new soul friend. Even at 12 years old, he looked at me in a way that implied and understood my sadness for the moment, but appreciation for the experience. But his sweet little smile was all I had to see to understand that these last moments were a gift.
I wiped my face and sat down on my mat for my last meditation with the group. The sounds of Baba Nam Kevalam still being whispered in the back of my mind. I offered up my gratitude for the time spent at yoga school. I asked for blessings and protection for the coming days. I stood up after meditation, taking in every inch of that room, and rolled up my mat for the last time.
As I put my mat away and started clearing up my space, Jacob came up to me and gave me the biggest hug, actually resembling how Andy hugs me after too much time spent apart. Jacob told me how much he’d miss me and that he was so glad he met me. The tears were free-flowing at this point. Then suddenly more of my yoga teacher friends stood in a line after Jacob to say their goodbyes.
“I don’t ever want this moment to end.”
But I had to be on my way, fully knowing I’d see these friends again in a week when I’d drop by the studio for one last yoga class before flying back home. When I did go back to the yoga studio after a few days traveling the island, the energy shifted when I saw the group again.
Some people were absent due to illness and exhaustion, others were hyper-focused on the upcoming exam. The room felt different, more serious even, and I was even more grateful for the time I had with everyone those first two weeks.
My time in Bali, my time traveling the world, always nudges me to detach from my phone screen, look up and witness the world around me. It’s in these moments I meet a new friend, experience the pure magic of nature, and restore my faith in humanity. Love is truly everywhere. You just have to close your eyes for a moment, surrender and receive it <3
*Names have been changed for privacy purposes
