I haven’t really written for The Daily Dharma since I returned to Bali. A lot has happened. I found myself back in active use of Instagram - which, for me, is a clear separation from Spirit. I also entered one of the most intense relationship experiences of my life. After three months of long-distance dating, we are now together 24/7 (and for the first time ever!) co-leading a retreat, and navigating the practice of relationship in real time.
With so much of my energy focused outward - on my new partner, on facilitating the retreat, on holding space for others - I haven’t had much stillness or silence for myself. My mind hasn’t had space to drop into clarity.
Something happened on Saturday night. I learned that one of my first Kirtan teachers, Bolo, passed away (while leading Kirtan.)
Kirtan is the Bhakti yoga practice of devotional chanting - a musical conversation with the Divine, where call-and-response mantras become vehicles to open the heart. It’s what I do when I play the harmonium and teach chants at the end of asana.
Bhakti Beginnings & Bolo
I was 22 when I first encountered Bolo at my Yoga Teacher Training. That training changed my life. It wasn’t just the asana practices or the knowledge of yoga - it was the sharing circles, where for the first time I felt truly heard, without shame or judgment. And most of all, it was Kirtan.
Every night I would set up the room for Kirtan - 44 cushions, lyric sheets, and bolsters. I didn’t understand why people couldn’t set up their own spaces (lol), but it turned out to be my Karma job. And it brought me close to the Jaya Band. Every night, I spoke to Bolo. I don’t remember what we said. I just remember his presence.
From the moment I heard the harmonium and felt the power of mantra, I knew I would one day lead Kirtan. It took me eleven years to finally do it, but this year (in my social media withdrawal) I started learning to play the harmonium and leading kirtans. Leading a chant is now a staple at the end of every practice.
When the Teacher Isn’t the Teaching
This same training center, however, became the site of confusion and disappointment about eight years later.
There was a teacher - let’s call him John - who I looked up to immensely. He was around my parents age, or maybe older. I later discovered he had been in relationships with at least two young students. In 2022, I returned to the center to lead my own retreat, after having built a successful online yoga business during covid. During a conversation, John told me about his three marriages. He made offhand comments about ex-wives being "crazy," and shared he was married to a 27-year-old former student. Warning bells went off. But I ignored them. I wanted so badly to believe in the goodness of my teacher.
In 2023, I returned again. This time, things shifted.
After an intense and confusing personal interaction with John - one that left me disoriented and questioning his intentions - I confided in someone else on staff. What I shared led to a formal report and revelations of similar behaviour toward other young women.
Suddenly, this place that once felt like a cocoon no longer felt safe. I made a decision in that moment: I would no longer bring students to this center. I couldn’t unknow what I knew. I couldn’t risk exposing women to harm. And thats why I’ve quietly detached from this place. I’ve never publicly shared what happened because it was so confusing for me. How can a place that you loved so deeply also have caused harm? How do you make peace with that?
The Quiet Power of Bolo
On the final night of that retreat in 2023, while processing all this stuff, I watched Bolo lead Kirtan while John interfered - changing the setlist, whispering in his ear. John brought a real rajasic energy to the moment - disturbing the dynamic. Yet Bolo remained undisturbed by it all. A quiet, steady light. When I think back to that night, I’m thinking a lot about how true spiritual power isn’t flashy or loud. It was Bolo’s energy, not John’s. It was Bolo’s choice to remain steady in the face of a bit of chaos. It was not performative. It was Sattvic. And when I was young there, 22 years old, I couldn’t see it. But eight years later, I could.
Bolo wasn’t trying to be seen. He just was. Offering true unconditional love that wasn’t rooted in abusive behaviour or harm. When I look back, if there was anyone in that space that was closest to being self-realized, it was him.
You Are the Guru: Reflections from the Sutras
In the days since Bolo’s passing, I’ve meditated a lot on the role of the guru. We need gurus to teach us the teachings - but we should never confuse the teachers with the teachings. All teachers are just human beings, like us. They’re not any more enlightened, or any more special. True gurus are supporting us in removing our vrittis, our mental patterns, walking beside us, not above us, and they nourish us with presence, discipline, and love.
Two Things Can Be True
So two things can be true. A place can have caused me harm, and also held the space for my transformation. It could be a source of challenging things and also a source of love. There can be teachers at a place that aren’t the safest, and there can be teachers at a place that are transformative (like Bolo). And ultimately I need to stop looking outwards to find that transformation in anyone else but myself. I need to hold the space for myself, rather than seek the space to be held for me by others.
Remembering Bolo. Remembering Myself.
In a meditation yesterday, my mind spiraled with noise. Then I saw Bolo. I heard the mantra: You are a child of God.
This week has reminded me why I do this work. Why I lead Kirtan. Why I teach.
Because the guru is not out there.
You are the guru. The guru is within.
And our job as teachers is to help people find that in themselves. We don’t need to give them the solution, we hold the space for them to find it for themselves.
You are the still point in a spinning world. You are the unwavering light. You are the one you’ve been waiting for.
This is yoga.
This is Bhakti.
This is what Bolo showed me.
Bolo is reminding me of my friend and sober mentor, Buddy. ❤️ I miss him so much
Ooh this is so beautiful. Where can we be introduced to the Kirtan and chanting - it sounds so dreamy Alexandra. And such a beautiful practise.