People Make the Place
It’s been about a week and a half since we returned home, and I’ve been sitting with everything Bali gave me. The lessons are still sinking in, but one thing stands out above all: the power of small, genuine human connection.
A smile. A helping hand. An invitation. A moment of trust.
These simple offerings held so much weight.
I think about riding on the back of a scooter, locking eyes with someone passing on the other side of the road — and without hesitation, they smiled. And naturally, I smiled back. No words exchanged, just a shared sense of presence.
I think about the drivers who helped us navigate unfamiliar places, who showed up exactly when they said they would. When they told us, “There will be a man waiting after the ferry,” there always was. And in return, we offered trust — and it was always met.
That mutual care — often unspoken — is something I’ll never forget.
We met so many people who shaped our time there in small but meaningful ways. Each one left a mark, and many taught us something we didn’t even know we needed to learn. Here are some of them…
Angga, our surf instructor, taught us the beauty of doing what you love, even if it means earning a little less. He was gentle, patient, kind — the most calming presence in the water. With him, learning to surf became a practice in surrender, and in not overthinking. He kept singing to me "don't worry about a thing, every little thing, is gonna be alright” while a big wave would pass
Cynthia, our waitress one morning in Penida, encouraged us to rent scooters and explore — even though we were nervous. Her honesty about her own fears gave us courage. Later, we encouraged her to try snorkeling, even though it scared her. That mutual encouragement was a reminder of what we can give each other when we’re open.
Supredi, who took us to the volcano hike, loved practicing English with us. At one point, he asked, “Do you love life?” And when we said yes, he smiled and said, “I do too.” A moment that struck us with its simplicity and depth.
These people — strangers turned bright lights in our journey — reminded me of something I hope to carry forward: It’s okay to connect. It’s okay to ask someone what they’re doing, to be curious, to offer an invitation even if you’re not sure how it’ll be received.
It reminded me how beautiful it is to believe in people. To accept an invitation, even if you worry you’ll be an inconvenience. To offer one, even if you’re unsure how it’ll be received.
Because it’s in those small moments — those tiny doses of courage — that the magic of connection lives.
In the Western world, we often fear being vulnerable with strangers. We hold back curiosity, hesitate to compliment, avoid eye contact. Maybe it’s fear of judgment, or of seeming “too much.” But what I’m learning is this: even if someone does judge you, it doesn’t define you. It just means they’re not meant to be in your world — and that’s okay.
It’s unfortunate how much trust has eroded in our everyday lives. But choosing to believe in someone — especially when your intuition says it’s safe — can be a radical act of hope. Yes, many of us have been hurt, lied to, let down. But I’m learning to trust anyway, when it feels right.
I’m practicing this now.
By trusting the man I just bought a car from — choosing to believe in his kindness.
By offering a compliment or a smile to the person in line ahead of me.
By softening when someone is short or impatient with me — and choosing to meet it with grace.
The transition home hasn’t been easy. There's grief in leaving a place that shifted something in you. But I also feel deeply blessed. Bali changed me, and now I get to carry what I’ve learned into this next chapter of life.
And how lucky am I for that?