The Lioness and the Iron: Why I Finally Dropped the Anchor

The days move with a different weight now.

Last year was a season of arrival. I was a stranger in a city whose name literally means medicine. I was and still am grateful, but I was also just trying to find my footing. This year feels different. It hits with a deeper frequency. This is the season of the anchor. I am no longer just visiting the medicine. I have become part of the rhythm here.

I hear from women and clients all the time who are struggling to find their purpose. They feel like they are just existing in a life that was designed for someone else. They ask me how I managed to walk away from the familiar and land 10,000 miles away.

While I do not profess to have it all figured out, I know I am on the right track. Purpose is not something you stumble upon in the woods. It is a design.

The word purpose comes from two Latin building blocks.
Pro means forward.
Ponere means to place.
Purpose is literally the act of placing something out in front of you. It is the blueprint you choose to build. I stopped trying to force my own plans and stopped worrying about the “how.” Now, I focus my energy on the “what.”

It’s a simple prayer. Lord, align me perfectly with Your purpose and remove anything that is not in alignment with my destiny.
When you pray this with authority, the Most High will answer. It is a heavy prayer, though, so be prepared. He might just move you across the globe. It will surely exceed anything you may have thought of or planned for yourself.

My recent birthday celebrations were not a list of things to do. They were a journey through the “Angels and the Fire.”

The movement began at my villa with a pool party that felt like a throwback from North Carolina, where I would gather in my basement transformed to The Savoy Lounge with my besties. (IYKYK) We splashed in the water while the Isley Brothers provided the soundtrack for my soul. My house manager, Madé, ensured the villa was spotless. My neighbor and friend, Ketut, sent over a platter of food, via courier, while his sisters brought a watermelon with my name carved into the rind on behalf of the family. I was reminded of how the Lord provides a community even in the most unexpected places. I was humbled by the simple, profound kindness of my Bali family.

Birthday Blessings to ME!

Nasi Tumpeng – In Bali, the mountain of yellow rice represents gratitude to the Creator and a life of rising purpose. Every side dish is a reminder of the abundance that surrounds a life well-purposed.

Sisters Adelia and Dara delivered a custom watermelon

The celebration then shifted into a beautiful surprise at Casa Luna on Sunday. After an amazing evening of live jazz and oldies, my friend Dian gathered our circle of women for the show after the show. I was met with a candlelit, fresh apple cake that tasted like a memory of home from my Mother’s kitchen. We danced, laughed, toasted, and talked into the wee hours of the morning. It is amazing how proper alignment will lead you to people who know your heart without you having to explain yourself.

I then sought the heights of the Sayan jungle. My driver, Dewa, took me to the infamous swings of Bali. Imagine dangling 200+ feet above the jungle. It was a rush of dopamine that took my breath away. There is a certain strength that comes from being unafraid of the fall. I felt like a lioness soaring above the emerald ravine.

The evening led me to The Ambar, a sanctuary perched above the Sayan Ridge. Watching the sunset over the Ayung River, I realized that I am no longer drifting. I am moored in a beauty that was planned for me long ago. The combination of ambiance, food, and company at the Ambar was stellar.

The frequency changed as I sat in an outdoor theatre for the Kecak (ke – chek’) performance. A circle of 100 men used only their voices to create a rhythmic engine of the chorus. There were no instruments, only the unified chant. They told an ancient story of the battle between light and darkness. It involved a Prince and his bride, an evil King and Step-mother, and an ally for the Prince in the form of a monkey.

I watched the Sanghyang Djaran, a character of a man on a horse, enter a hypnotic trance and kick the burning coconut husks with his bare feet. He walked through the flames unburned. This scene took me back to Sunday School in the 80s, where we recited bible verses, and while I no longer know it verbatim, there was a promise in Isaiah that when we walk through the fire, we will not be scorched. I sat there in the heat of the night and realized that some truths are universal. Some fires are not meant to consume. Some fires are simply meant to be stomped.

My week continued into Friday, with a sunset dinner at Indus with my friend Paulina, from Lebanon. We looked out over the Tjampuhan Ridge where the rivers meet. We feasted on five-star meals and then found ourselves at a Secret Comedy Show. Think Speakeasy. It is called Secret because they tell you the location the day of the show. (based on your selected area) Laughter is a medicine of its own, and that night the dose was exactly what I needed. The comedian spent time roasting the international crowd, with all ethnicities getting a dose of gentle insults.

The final celebration marker was placed on Sunday at Taman Dedari, the Garden of Angels. The statues there are ginormous, standing over 30 feet tall. They represent celestial messengers who carry wisdom from the heavens. Standing in their shadow, I realized that my journey is a pathway to something much greater than myself. I heard the staff begin to sing while a steel drum was playing, and I laughed out loud, because it seemed some poor fellow was about to be the object of one of those embarrassing Happy Birthday public acknowledgements that restaurants do. Then, to my own sheer surprise and grief, I was that poor fellow, and all eyes (and camera phones) were on me. It felt like even the statuesque Angels were watching the prolonged Birthday song.

In closing, I come back to purpose. I did not find this life. I purposed it.
You do not find your purpose. You do not stumble upon it in the jungle. You do not wait for it to tap you on the shoulder.
You place it. You put it forward. You command it to exist.
I have placed my design 10,000 miles from the life I once knew. I have stomped the fires just like the man on the wooden horse. I have soared 200 feet above the canopy. I came to this land seeking medicine. I realize now that the cure was not a potion. The cure was the placement.

The medicine was the anchor all along.
It is the iron in your soul. It is the strength that allows you to stand still while the world is spinning. It is the courage to stay rooted in your own power even when the storm is screaming.
The anchor is the only thing that keeps you from drifting into someone else’s dream.
The Most High did not call you to just exist. He called you to be the Architect.
The anchor is dropped.
The frequency is set.
The lioness is home.

I took one step closer to my version of Freedom. What does Freedom look like for you?