30/08/2026
On 10th April, I wrote a post that began: “I should be on a plane to Bali right now.”
But I wasn’t. I’d cancelled my retreat.
I wrote about the shame, guilt and questioning that came with changing my mind and the realisation that it’s okay to admit the path you chose isn’t the right path at this particular moment.
What I didn’t know then was what would happen when I stopped trying to control what happened next. Because last year, if I’m honest, there was a lot more grip.
How do I fill the retreat?
Where do I find the people?
What should I post?
What else should I be doing?
That subtle urgency that says if I don’t make this happen, it won’t.
So this time, I leaned into trust. Not the passive, sit-on-the-sofa-and-wait-for-the-Universe kind of trust.
I still did the work. I meditated, breathed, got really clear on who I am, what I stand for and where I’m going and I kept showing up.
But I loosened my grip on the outcome. I stopped trying to engineer opportunities and allowed myself to have genuine, curious, no-agenda conversations.
And something shifted.
People started messaging me out of the blue. Some said that April post had really resonated, whilst others simply asked, “Are you doing Bali again?”
By 10th June, exactly two months later, all but one of the spaces on next year’s Bali Bliss Retreat had been filled. And now there is one space left.
But this isn’t really a “come and buy the last space” post. It’s about what this experience has taught me.
Trust doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means doing your part without believing you have to control every part.
And maybe trust isn’t believing everything will work out exactly as you planned. Maybe it’s trusting yourself enough to know you’ll be okay when it doesn’t.
It’s moving from “How am I going to make this happen?” to “What is mine to do, and what can I allow?”
You know, open hands receive far more easily than clenched ones. And I’m learning to unclench mine.