By Sandra, Secondary School Principal, from Auckland, New Zealand
I want to be precise about why I came.
Not because I was lost. Not because I was broken. Not because I needed to “find myself” — a phrase I find mildly embarrassing in people my age, though I understand what it is trying to say.
I came because I had spent thirty years making decisions for other people — students, staff, my children when they were young — and I had become very good at it. So good that I had quietly stopped noticing what I thought, wanted, or felt about anything that wasn’t someone else’s problem.
I booked the Mind Retreat at Bali Palms on a Tuesday evening, told my adult children on Wednesday, and flew out on the following Saturday. No one tried to stop me. Several people told me they were impressed. I was not sure what that said about any of us.
Arriving
The driver who collected me from the airport was quiet and unhurried in a way I immediately appreciated. The drive took ninety minutes. By the time we turned onto the narrow jungle lane that leads to the property, I had stopped composing emails in my head for the first time in longer than I could remember.
Bali Palms has ten private cabins and, when I arrived, nine other guests. I never felt that I had to be sociable. Nobody organised group activities or expected conversation at dinner. I ate my first meal alone at a table in the open-sided dining area, listening to the jungle, and it was one of the most pleasant meals I had eaten in years.
The Yoga
I had not done yoga in eleven years. I told the morning teacher, Wayan, on the first day. He nodded and did not make anything of it.
The sessions ran twice daily — a longer morning practice beginning at sunrise, and a shorter, slower evening session before dinner. Neither pushed me further than I could go. Both pushed me further than I expected to go. By day four I was waking before the alarm, which I had set for 5:45am, and lying in the dark listening to the birds with something close to pleasure at the thought of the morning session ahead.
I cannot explain this very well. I can only report it.
The Cultural Workshops
The Mind Retreat includes cultural workshops — in my case, a canang sari making session with one of the staff members whose family has been making offerings for generations, and a Balinese cooking class with the kitchen team. I had expected these to feel like tourist activities. They did not.
The canang sari session in particular was unexpectedly absorbing. There is something specific about working with your hands in complete concentration on a small, detailed task that quiets the part of the mind that generates noise. I made three offerings. Two were acceptable. One was quite bad. Nobody minded.
What I Went Home With
I did not have a revelation. I did not weep at savasana (though I came close once, on day five, for reasons I still haven’t entirely worked out). I did not return to New Zealand a changed person in any dramatic sense.
What I did return with: a morning practice of twenty minutes that I have maintained for six weeks since coming home. A somewhat different relationship to silence — I now seek it rather than fill it. And a clear memory of six days in which nobody needed anything from me, which I was able to enjoy rather than feel guilty about.
For a person who has spent thirty years being needed, that last one turned out to be the most important.
Practical Notes for Solo Women Considering This
- Safety: I felt completely safe throughout — the resort has 24-hour on-site staff and the surrounding Tabanan area is rural and quiet
- Solo-friendliness: No forced socialising, no couples-only setups, no awkwardness eating alone
- Age range: The other guests ranged from late twenties to mid-sixties — I was the oldest and nobody cared
- What I’d tell a friend: Go earlier than you think you should. Don’t wait until you’re depleted. Go while you still have the energy to receive what the retreat offers.