On November 3rd, 2024, I was close to death.
It was a Sunday morning in Ubud, Bali. I was awaiting this Sunday to make my way to the Pura Beji Dalem Sapat Temple for Melukat; Balinese water purification. This temple is low-key, with abundant nature, fairly priced, and not over-crowded. It has a waterfall, magnificent trees, running river, and a small lagoon.
I resonated with this place and I had this temple on my mind for the past three days before I could visit. The call to return to this temple was strong.
Despite the grey rainy clouds in the far distance, I hopped on my motorbike and made my way. By the time I reached the temple, I was still dry. I made my offerings to the waterfall and the temple. As I practiced the Melukat ceremony – it started to rain. It felt like good timing, arriving, offering, and welcoming the gift of rain through purification. I was in full surrender to nature.
When the rain stopped, I took that as a sign to go into the lagoon, slowly and surely, as it was more slippery than usual. I crossed the river, climbed the rocks above the waterfall, and make my way to the entrance of the lagoon. Before entering any sacred space, I always pause to ask for permission. I’ve found my spot, and stayed there for over an hour in deep practice in mediation and prayer.
A guide at the temple (who had mainly been assisting two other visitors before they left) signalled to me from afar that he would head back up the stairs to the main entrance. I waved in consent from across the river, and chose to linger longer on my own.
When it felt right for me to leave, the river had risen and the current became strong. What was once a calm stream as shallow as the ankles, was now much higher with a sudden surge from the rain in the mountains, streaming down towards this river. However, the only way back out was to cross the river. I was stuck.
Taken by the River
Trying not to panic, I squat down by the rocks on the river edge, and watched the current to see if it was safe to cross. It was only about five steps to the other side, and I focused on a potential path where the water seemed less forceful. It was risky, and the guide was very far with no way for me to reach or scream for him.
I cautiously dipped one leg into the water to test the current, uncertain of the depth, hoping I could find stable footing and walk across. I tried again, testing the current with the other leg, but this time, I lost my balance. I slipped on a rock and was instantly swept into the river. My hands were clinging onto the rocks, but the current was too strong. It pulled me under, and I couldn’t hold on.
Before I knew it, I was taken by the strong current surge, and into a wild and terrifying whirlwind of full-force whiplashing currents downstream, and big bouldering river rocks that I would hit every few seconds. I had to keep my head facing up, so I could still catch a breath every now and then.
My body is light, so I was moving at rapid speed. I tried to catch onto roots, rocks, or bamboo with my arms, but nothing caught on. I was far down the river at this point, and of course, in total desperation to get out of the river current.
Three fishermen saw me falling downstream – I scream to them for help, they tried to stretch out their fishing rod, they pointed to rocks for me to catch, but the river current was just too fast, too strong. Soon after, I eventually managed to catch one long loose bamboo floating on the river with my hands, and the bamboo was able to hook onto the rocks on the right and left side of the river.
My hands were clinging onto that bamboo, my arms fully stretched above my head as if I was doing a horizontal pull-up, while most of my body still submerged in the rivers full force current. I held on for longer to resist the current from taking me away. The bamboo became my life line.
I pulled myself up to lock my elbow around the bamboo to give my forearms a break. I could barely move, my body was in a full horizontal swing. I held onto that bamboo for a long time, while trying to climb onto a rock, and after long enough; eventually my hands slipped due to exhaustion. Again, I was taken by the current.
I caught onto another rock, and had a few seconds to stand, hoping to climb over the rock. Before I could move, the current took me again. I reached out my hands to pull for roots, bamboo. I was screaming, “No, no, no more!” as the water dragged me.
Then, finally, I spotted a concave curve on the edge of the river, a place where I could push my body toward. With all my strength, I managed to lean into it, finding just enough stability to stand and, at last, stop moving with the current. I paused, breathing deeply, held my exhausted arms. A throbbing migraine pulsed through my head as I rooted my feet into sand of the river and took that moment to recover.
Occasionally, I would sharply look upstream to see if the fishermen were coming, or if they called for help. All that was in my head was, ‘please someone find me’. I was so far down the river, I could not hear any village near by. I was out of the major current thankfully, but still in the water.
Once I gathered some strength, I slowly walked against the current on the edge of the river, step by step, and climbed my way up the rocks on the upper edge of the river.
Somatic Responses: Surrender and Strategy
I am a somatic therapist and trained first aider, so I knew how to handle bodies in shock. I first checked my body for any major physical injuries, and by Gods grace, my head did not hit those big bouldering rocks, nor did I feel any bone-fracture. I was bruised, battered, and full of scratches; but it was all minor compared to what could have happened.
My entire body started to tremble frantically, and I knew it had this settled moment to recover from shock, now that I was finally out of the river. I was familiar with these somatic processes, so I simply allowed my body to tremble fully, shaking vigorously, with my feet firm on the rock and my body low to the ground, so I wouldn’t fall. After about 10 minutes of shaking, I finally settled down. Every few seconds, still gazing upstream to see if anyone would come.
At this moment, I had three options – One, to wait for the river to come down so I could walk back up, which could take a day. Two, climb back upstream on the edge of the river – which was a vertical cliff-like forested edge, a little risky, as one slip would bring me back into that river current. Three, to scream for help, and hope someone finds me.
I tried to stand and for-see the route ahead to climb upstream on the river-edge, but my legs were still shaky, in shock. So, I only had capacity to wait, really. I gathered the remaining strength I had to give a deep belly scream for help, as loud as I could. I did this every few minutes. I waited, I scream, I gazed upstream. I waited, I screamed, I gazed upstream.
“I know they saw me, those fishermen, they saw me. Someone will find me. ” I thought. My future felt like it was in the hands of those random fishermen. No one else saw me, but them.
I gazed up at the sun and realised, in a matter of hours, the sun would come down. I was too cold to rest there. I was too unsettled to wait any further. So, my eyes started to strategise my approach to climb the cliff edge of the jungle. I connected with the land, prayed for guidance, and moved my way, step by step, moving on all four limbs, slowly climbing upstream, and making sure I do everything I can not to fall. Steady, slow, sure.
After about an hour of climbing on the river’s edge, I reached a point where I could not cross. It was too risky, the rocks too far apart. I tried to map it out, tried with one leg, and had the same feeling before I fell into the river, and decided to just stop. Again, a deep belly scream I let out – “help, help, help“. I simply waited, and prayed for someone to find me.
Held by the Balinese Village, Sapat
At a loss for what to do next – a few minutes later, I hear a rustling of leaves, and footsteps from the top right, and finally a villager found me, who has been searching for me. He checked if I am okay, I gave him the okay sign. He sat beside me, calls someone to let them know I am here. I had no energy to say anything, other than placing my palms together in gratitude. He takes my hand, and we climb our way up the steep jungle.
After a few steps, I find another 10 men and villagers there to help me. One villager took me on his back, as the jungle terrain was tricky and steep. Later on, I found out that it was the Chief of the village himself that carried me on his back. I was humbled by this initiative to assure my safety.
Along the way out, I also saw the guide from the temple; he cried, apologised and hugged me. I told him immediately that it was not his fault.
Once we slowly made our way out of the jungle, I saw more and more villagers, endlessly. There were around 200 villagers that came to help, find me, or at least offer their presence and prayers. They travelled from the north and south of Sapat village in Ubud. Children, women, men; everyone was there.
I was overwhelmingly touched by the care of this Balinese village that came through for one woman in need. I will never forget that feeling, walking out of the jungle and finding all those people gazing at me with relief and care.
Apparently, the entire village was alarmed by the fishermen who informed people they saw on their way back up from the river. Somehow, the information reached the tour guides of that village, and it reached a village WhatsApp group so that everyone was aware.
Once we reached the road, I asked for water as I was desperately dehydrated. They took me on a motorbike and straight to the clinic for a check up. A few of the villagers, including the Chief of the village stayed at the clinic. Eventually, the tour guides took me straight home in a car.
They were so thoughtful, bringing home my motorbike, and all my things left at the temple. Once they brought me back to my guesthouse – Pomelo Guesthouse in Laplapan; they shared what happened to me with the Balinese family I am staying with. The ibu (mother) of the house immediately did a cleansing ritual for me that evening to ‘call back my soul’ from the river.
Ceremony
The next morning the tour guides that took care of me visited me to see if I could walk, or any further injuries were discovered. I awoke so grateful to have had no major injury, no fracture. What an immense blessing to be able to walk having hit so many big rocks at full force. Only bruises, multiple scratches, and a deep appreciation for the Balinese village and the river for bringing me back.
I heard from them that the same night of the accident, they stayed up till 11pm+ to discuss the safety matters of Pura Beji and Sapat Village. They assured that they would take further precaution as tour guides, temple keepers, and villagers. They take this incident with the utmost care and seriousness for the entire village, including guests and tourists.
That same day – I returned to Pura Beji with the local priest to do two big ceremonies, so that my karma with the river may be purified and protected, and also the spirit of the river will be cleansed for the village. The first one was Ngaturan Pekeling which is for accidents.
While, the second ceremony is Kajeng Kliwon occurring once every 15 days and of cultural significance to the Balinese. The 15th day mark of Kajeng Kliwon is known to be a convergence of positive and negative energies at its highest point. The ceremony is for maintaining harmony between opposing energies. They believe that this is a time where the veil between the spiritual and physical worlds are thin and it is a good time to appease the spiritual forces.
I came in the traditional white kebaya and sarong borrowed from my host family. The Priests’ wife was particularly sweet, clinging on my elbow throughout our walk into the temple. We didn’t speak the same language, but I truly felt the depth of her empathy and support. I appreciated Gedek’s (one of the tour guides) thorough translation of each symbolism and process during the ceremonies.
After the Ngaturan Pekeling ceremony at Pura Beji, I joined the Kajeng Kliwon ceremony in the upper temple with the entire local village.
This temple is usually only for Balinese to enter. I was touched to be welcomed and received in this way. For an experience that could create such a traumatic after shock; the Balinese culture and people continue to show how connection between spirit, land, and body through ceremonies helps us to come into balance and harmony.
Recovery
The following days, I still had to manage nausea, and some residual shock from the experience. Particularly, the recurring nausea was a challenge as I couldn’t properly sleep or eat. After 3 days, it cleared and I could really, rest. Now, I can walk normally, eat well, and enjoy this new life offered to me.
I am particularly in gratitude for the generous and caring spirit of the Balinese that showed up for me, along with their after care to assure no further trauma would impact the ecosystem – the river, the temple, the village, and myself as a guest. We have so much to learn from how the Balinese show up amidst crisis. I am so grateful for loved ones and friends that showed their care, checked-in on me, and offered me their gaze – that was plenty of support, to simply be seen during a vulnerable moment.
Many say this is an initiation. Some say, I am now one with that river. Some say, the lessons from this will continue to unfold. All I know is, for now, I am grateful to be alive, and I trust this process. I am in full surrender to the greater forces of nature.
Even upon moments of facing death in that river, somehow I knew that it was not my time yet.
