lost in the mantra

March xx, 2025

If you had asked me a week ago whether I’d spend my Saturday night chanting in Sanskrit with a room full of strangers, I would have laughed and changed the subject. But here we are.

Last night, I attended a Kirtan session at Alchemy Yoga & Meditation Center in Ubud, the place I’ve been frequenting while dipping my toes into the vast ocean of spiritual practices Bali has to offer. Kirtan, for the uninitiated (which, until very recently, included me), is a form of devotional singing in Bhakti Yoga. It involves a lead singer chanting a phrase and the audience responding, creating an almost hypnotic call-and-response rhythm. According to the Alchemy website, it’s meant to elevate consciousness, open the heart, and foster a communal meditative experience. According to my wife Francesca, it involved people dancing around singing Hare Krishna, which had me envisioning that absurdly joyful group from Airplane!—cue immediate hesitation.

Despite my skepticism, I’m a firm believer in trying things at least once, especially when they come personally recommended. A fellow traveler I met during a silent meditation session at Bamboo Spirit (yes, I willingly signed up for silence) encouraged me to check it out. So, with equal parts curiosity and apprehension, I went.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enter the room expecting a full-fledged The Beach scenario—a cult-like congregation waving jazz hands under the ethereal glow of candlelight, led by some Tilda Swinton-esque figure. And, okay, there were some jazz hands. But from the moment Ellen Arthur, the evening’s lead singer, began the first chant, my skepticism started to unravel. Her voice was something else—deep, resonant, and charged with emotion. The harmonium hummed, the tabla pulsed, and before I knew it, the entire room was singing in unison.

And then came the goosebumps.

There’s something unexpectedly powerful about dozens of voices blending together in a rhythm that builds and swells like a wave. I couldn’t understand a word, but the energy in the room was undeniable. At first, I played it cool, nodding along and pretending to absorb the vibrations of the universe like a seasoned pro. But after a few rounds, I found myself actually enjoying it. And—I can’t believe I’m admitting this—I even got up to dance.

Not the ironic, half-hearted shuffle I envisioned, but an actual, uninhibited, go-with-the-flow movement that, for once, didn’t feel ridiculous. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the energy of the room. Maybe it was the fact that in Bali, you reach a point where you stop questioning things and just roll with it.

By the time the session ended, I felt strangely light. Was my consciousness elevated? Maybe. Was my heart open? More than I expected. Would I go again? Absolutely.