Tears & Tantra: The Fire of Radical Healing

February 3, 2025

Tears & Tantra: The Fire of Radical Healing

The Breaking Point: Resistance & the Fire of Transformation

Another late night turned into morning. No yoga for me today—I woke up after 9 AM feeling heavy, both physically and emotionally. My hand throbbed from yesterday’s massage, a relentless reminder of how fragile and vulnerable I felt. I had come here seeking healing, but instead, I felt like I was being tested at every turn. The injury. The lack of WiFi, leaving me cut off. The noise at night forcing me to sleep with headphones. The impossibly steep steps outside my room, making me feel trapped, isolated, and restless.

I had spent all this money, made the leap, and committed to this retreat, and yet I felt helpless, one breath away from breaking. When Nena informed me she would be out for the day, I realized I had no one to contact for even the simplest of things. I was put in touch with Putu, the woman who had greeted me on my first day. I asked for papaya—none. I asked for coconut water because I was feeling dizzy—none. I asked about WiFi—they wouldn’t be coming until tonight. That was it. My final straw.

I wanted out. I started packing, trying to book an Airbnb, desperately looking for an escape, but with no WiFi, I couldn’t even do that. The heat pressed in, my emotions spiraling. Frustration became panic. Panic became rage. My body screamed at me to leave. That’s when Putu told me Anita was on her way to see me.

Honestly, I wasn’t interested. My first impression of Anita hadn’t been great, and at this point, I wasn’t in the mood for whatever advice she had to offer. But then, a knock at my door. And suddenly, there were two coconuts waiting for me.

A Knock at the Door: The Presence of a Teacher

A few minutes later, another knock. A woman’s voice.

Anita had arrived. I stepped aside, letting her in, and led her out to my balcony. The second she asked me what was wrong, the floodgates burst open. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The exhaustion, the frustration, the sheer overwhelm—I started crying, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to stop. I told her how everything felt impossible. How I felt cursed. How every time I tried to do something good for myself, I seemed to hit a wall.

She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t flinch. She met my eyes, holding the space with unwavering presence. And then, she spoke. She told me she created this program for people like me—people who needed time to break through their own internal walls, people who had spent years running from themselves. She had been where I was. She told me this space was designed to hold everything—fear, doubt, anger, resentment—but I had to be willing to let it move through me. I had to be willing to do the work.

For a moment, a flicker of anger rose in me. Of course, I’m willing to change. Why else would I have traveled across the world for a 23-day retreat designed for deep inner work? But then, I saw it—my pattern. The way I was ready to abandon ship the second things felt uncomfortable. The way I was still programmed to equate discomfort with danger. How many times had I sabotaged my own transformation because it didn’t unfold the way I expected?

The Fire of Kali: Facing the Shadow

After Anita left, I felt drained but clearer. It was already past 2 PM, and Putu arrived with lunch—vegetables and tempeh, a food I wasn’t used to before Bali but had grown to appreciate. I ate, still feeling the tension of the morning in my body, and checked my schedule, thinking the day was empty. But I had forgotten—I had a massage booked at 2 PM.

Oops.

Thankfully, they were able to reschedule for 3:30 PM. I felt hesitant walking in after the experience from the day before. My hands were still in pain, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to trust another therapist to touch them. But when I arrived, I met a different therapist, and this time, I made it clear—be gentle with my hands.

The moment I lay down and surrendered to the experience, something shifted. This massage was different. Instead of feeling like my body was being worked against, it felt like it was being worked with. I melted into the table, my breath slowing, my body softening.

I thought about Shakti—the divine feminine force that flows, surrenders, and expands. I thought about how much I resist. How much I brace myself against life, against healing, against receiving. How often I stay locked in my head instead of letting my body be held.

And then, for a moment, I let go.

I drifted between wakefulness and sleep, my body surrendering into relaxation. When it was over, I felt a sense of relief I hadn’t felt in days. Maybe I don’t need to fight so hard. Maybe healing can come when I stop gripping so tightly.

Returning to My Sacred Space

When I returned to my room, I found it had been cleaned. I smiled at the small towel animals they had placed on my bed—a reminder that even in frustration, there is care.

I stood on my balcony, topless, feeling the humid air wrap around me, watching the vast, lush landscape of Northern Bali stretch before me. The chaos of the morning felt distant now. I could leave and go to the hotel, but would that really bring me what I needed?

Shakti is wild. She moves. She burns, she heals. She doesn’t run away from the discomfort—she flows through it. I had booked a 23-day program, and I still had 20 days left. I wasn’t going anywhere.

Hanuman’s Leap: Devotion in the Face of Fear

That evening, I climbed the steps I had been avoiding and made my way to dinner, joining the other women here. The conversation was light, warm, comforting. I could feel the eating disorder voice whispering in my head—this is too much food, too much oil, too much, too much, too much—but I chose to eat anyway.

After dinner, I met Guru Meade, the main healer at the retreat. The other women had said he wasn’t very personal, but I found him friendly, immediately drawn to my tiger’s eye necklace. We talked about what was ahead—tomorrow’s water purification ceremony and the next day’s Leela game. Two days of deep emotional release.

I knew what was coming. This was what I had signed up for. This was what I had been called to...And I was finally ready to surrender to it.

Integration: Learning to Trust the Process

Now, I sit in a hammock, overlooking the pool, listening to the soft trickling of water from the fountain. The Balinese workers move through the space, placing offering trays before the Buddhas. There is incense in the air. There is peace.

This morning, I wanted to leave. Tonight, I am here. This journey will not be easy. But it will be worth it.

And so, I surrender.

With love and devotion,

Eve—aka officially… Kali Grayce