Beyond Yoga - Discovering the True Spiritual Practices of the Balinese
Bali has long been known as a spiritual sanctuary. From the yoga shalas of Ubud to silent retreats in the jungle, seekers from around the world come to the island in search of healing, presence, and inner peace. But beneath the asanas and incense, far from the bamboo yoga decks, there lies a deeper current—an authentic spiritual practice that has been lived by the Balinese people for generations.
This isn’t about yoga flows or vegan cafés. It’s about something quieter, older, and more rooted. It’s about Balinese spirituality, a living tradition shaped by devotion, ritual, and an intimate relationship with the seen and unseen.
I came to Bali for yoga. I stayed for something else entirely.
A Spirituality of Daily Life
The first thing I learned is that in Bali, spirituality is not something you do—it’s something you live. From sunrise to sunset, every gesture, prayer, and movement holds sacred weight.
Women begin their day preparing canang sari, the daily offerings made of flowers, rice, and incense. You’ll see them placed on sidewalks, dashboards, shrines—each one a moment of gratitude and balance. These are not done for show. They are done because that is what it means to be Balinese.
The entire day is framed by ritual. From blessing the kitchen before cooking, to lighting incense at dusk, the Balinese weave spiritual practice into every layer of life. There is no separation between the spiritual and the physical. Everything is connected.
Melukat – The Ritual of Spiritual Cleansing
One of the most profound practices I experienced was melukat, a water purification ritual performed at sacred springs across the island. Unlike a spa or wellness bath, melukat is a sacred act of release—to cleanse not just the body, but the soul.
I was guided to a spring temple by a Balinese priest. Before we entered the water, he performed prayers and prepared offerings. He explained that melukat is about letting go—anger, sadness, confusion. As I knelt under a stone spout, the cold water hit me like truth. It was humbling. Purifying. Human.
This ritual, practiced regularly by the Balinese, reflects the elemental wisdom of the island—water as a medium for forgiveness and clarity.
Unlike the guided meditations I’d done in air-conditioned halls, this felt raw and real. There was no need for words. The water knew.
Connecting with the Ancestors
Another central pillar of Balinese spiritual life is the connection with ancestors. The dead are not gone in Bali. They are present, watching, guiding. Every family compound has a shrine—pura kemulan—where offerings are made daily to honor those who came before.
During ceremonies like Galungan, it is believed that the spirits of the ancestors return to visit their families. Homes are decorated, food is prepared, prayers are whispered. The connection is intimate and alive.
In contrast to the often individualistic approach to spirituality in the West, Balinese belief systems are deeply communal. The soul does not walk alone. It walks with lineage, with village, with gods.
It reminded me that spiritual practice isn’t always about going inward. Sometimes, it’s about reaching outward—to those who carried you here.
Temple Ceremonies – Dance, Devotion, and the Divine
One evening, I was invited to a temple ceremony in a small village outside Bangli. I didn’t know what to expect. I wore a borrowed sarong, brought a basket of fruit, and followed the sound of gamelan music through the rice fields.
The temple was alive with color and movement. Children giggled in the corner. Men chanted mantras. Women offered petals and incense. Then, the dancers arrived—not performers, but sacred messengers, channeling gods through movement and gaze.
This wasn’t a performance. It was a conversation with the divine.
Balinese ceremonies are layered: music, fire, fragrance, prayer. They do not separate art and spirit. Everything is part of worship. The temple becomes a stage, but not for ego—for devotion.
It was in these ceremonies that I realized what the West often seeks in yoga—the stillness, the transcendence, the connection—is something the Balinese already live.
The Role of the Priest – Keepers of Cosmic Balance
In Bali, pemangku (temple priests) and pedanda (high priests) are central to maintaining the island’s spiritual balance. These are not religious officials behind a podium. They are caretakers of ritual, lineage, and energy.
I met one such pemangku in Sidemen. He was soft-spoken, always smiling, yet his presence was undeniable. He described his role not as preaching, but as holding space—for prayer, for ceremony, for ancestral connection.
His days were filled with preparation: gathering flowers, reciting mantras, guiding ceremonies. There was no rush, no monetization—just service. In him, I saw the heart of Balinese spiritual humility.
Offerings – Beauty as Prayer
To the outsider, Balinese offerings might look like decoration. But each one is a small universe, crafted with love and layered meaning.
Colors represent directions. Flowers honor deities. Even the way banana leaves are folded carries symbolism. And always, there is incense—to lift the prayer into the unseen.
This quiet act of offering is a spiritual practice in itself. It asks for presence. Intention. Grace. The Balinese do this every single day—not out of obligation, but out of devotion.
As a traveler, I was struck by this: spirituality in Bali is not about what you believe. It’s about how you live, and what you offer back.
Beyond the Mat – What This Means for Seekers
Yoga in Bali has become a global industry. And that’s not inherently bad—many have found healing through movement and breath here. But to stop at yoga is to only scratch the surface.
The true spiritual heart of Bali lies not in a retreat schedule, but in the rhythm of daily life. In the women making offerings before the sun rises. In the priest whispering mantras to the rice fields. In the child lighting incense for a grandmother long gone.
If you are seeking something real, step beyond the studio. Walk into a village. Sit with a family during ceremony. Watch how they pray with their hands, with their food, with their silence.
You’ll learn that spirituality is not something to be achieved. It’s something to be honored, embodied, and shared.
A Different Kind of Awakening
In the end, what I found in Bali wasn’t the awakening I thought I wanted. I didn’t find it in perfect postures or retreat journals. I found it in the quiet between chants. In the water that washed over my head. In the smile of a farmer offering a flower to his family shrine.
This is the true spiritual practice of the Balinese—one that doesn’t ask you to escape, but to come home. To return to your breath, your people, your earth. To live not just mindfully, but meaningfully.
