Time Moves Differently in Bali

In the West, time feels like something we race against—a relentless force pushing us from one task to the next, measuring our worth in hours worked and achievements stacked. Productivity is king, rest is something you “earn,” and slowing down? That’s just another way of saying you’re falling behind. But in Bali, time moves differently. Days aren’t dictated by jam-packed schedules or endless to-do lists but by the rhythm of life itself. The sun rises, offerings are placed, waves are watched, and conversations stretch long into the evening without the urgency to rush off to the next thing.

“Bali time” isn’t just a joke about things running late—it’s a mindset, a different way of existing. Here, presence matters more than punctuality, and flow is prioritised over force. It’s not laziness; it’s an understanding that life isn’t meant to be a constant sprint. At first, this was an adjustment. I felt guilty for slowing down like I should be doing more, planning more, achieving more. But then I realised—creativity, clarity, and even ambition don’t thrive in exhaustion. They come in the spaces between. It’s not about giving up on goals or losing drive; it’s about realising that rushing through life isn’t the same as actually living it.

The Importance of Daily Rituals

One of the most beautiful things about Balinese culture is how everyday life is filled with simple, intentional rituals. Canang sari—tiny handwoven offerings of flowers, rice, and incense—are placed thoughtfully in doorways, at temples, even on scooters. Each one is a small act of gratitude, a pause amidst the day’s movement. Meals are unhurried, often shared, without screens or distractions. Even something as small as taking the long way home just to admire the rice fields feels like an intentional practice in appreciation.

In contrast, Western culture glorifies efficiency over experience. Meals are rushed, schedules are packed, and every quiet moment is filled with scrolling or multitasking. We say we want to be more present, but the second there’s nothing to do, we reach for our phones. But here’s the thing —slowness isn’t wasted time. It’s where the best parts of life actually happen. Some of my favorite moments in Bali have been the simplest: a slow morning coffee, an unexpected chat with a stranger, a sunset I had no intention of watching but somehow found myself mesmerised by. I started to realise that the small, seemingly “unproductive” moments were often the ones that made me feel the most alive.

Work-Life Balance Actually Exists

Back home, we wear burnout like a badge of honour. Hustle culture tells us to grind now and rest later, to measure our success by how exhausted we are. But in Bali, the mindset is different—work is important, but it’s not everything. Many locals work incredibly hard, but they also prioritise their

families, social connections, and spiritual practices. Shops close for ceremonies, people take breaks without guilt, and no one is shamed for stepping away from work to enjoy life.

It was a shock to realise how deeply ingrained the idea of “more is better” was in me. If I wasn’t constantly pushing, I felt like I was falling behind. But what if the real secret to longevity, creativity, and happiness isn’t pushing harder—but learning when to pause? What if we stopped glorifying exhaustion and started seeing rest as a necessary part of a fulfilling life? Bali taught me that success isn’t just about what you achieve—it’s about how much you actually enjoy the life you’re creating.

Connection Over Consumption

In the West, success is often measured by what you own—the car, the house, the designer bag. But in Bali, success feels more like a life filled with love, laughter, and deep relationships. There’s a real sense of community here—people show up for each other. They share meals, check in on their neighbors, and take the time to truly connect. It’s a stark contrast to the hyper-individualistic mindset that dominates so much of the Western world, where we’re constantly chasing more— more money, more status, more things—without stopping to ask if any of it actually makes us happy.

I’ve lost count of the number of times a local has helped me without expecting anything in return. The kindness here is effortless, woven into daily life. It’s made me reflect on how, back home, we can be so focused on what we lack that we forget to appreciate what we already have. Bali has a

way of reminding you that the best things in life aren’t things at all—they’re shared moments, deep conversations, the feeling of belonging.

Nature as a Teacher

Bali’s landscapes have a way of slowing you down. The sound of waves, the endless stretch of rice fields, the stillness of the jungle—it’s hard to stay in a state of stress when you’re surrounded by so much natural beauty. The island’s rhythms aren’t dictated by deadlines or notifications but by the ocean’s tides, the rains that come and go as they please, and the sunrise that marks the start of another day, no matter how busy or unprepared you feel.

In the West, nature often feels like an escape—a weekend getaway, a holiday retreat. But in Bali, it’s a part of life. People rise with the sun, surf before work, take afternoon dips in waterfalls just because they can. The rain isn’t an inconvenience; it’s a cycle of renewal. Being here has made me question why we wait for vacations to slow down, why we see nature as something separate from our “real lives” instead of a necessary part of it.

Letting Go of Perfectionism

Western culture thrives on the pursuit of perfection—whether in work, appearance, or success. But in Bali, there’s a different approach. Creativity, spirituality, and work are seen as fluid, evolving things. Imperfections are embraced rather than feared. Balinese Hindu ceremonies, for example, are deeply spiritual but not rigid. Offerings are handmade, each one unique and imperfect, yet still beautiful. The same goes for Balinese art, music, and dance—expression is valued over flawlessness.

It’s been one of the most freeing lessons for me. Back home, perfectionism can be paralysing—we don’t start things because we’re scared they won’t be “good enough.” But in Bali, there’s an understanding that life itself is imperfect, and that’s exactly what makes it beautiful. When you stop chasing perfection, you start living.

Bringing the Bali Mindset Back Home

Slowing down doesn’t require a one-way ticket to Bali. It’s a shift in mindset—one that we can choose to integrate into our daily lives, no matter where we are. Maybe it’s drinking your morning coffee without distractions, taking a long walk just because, or calling a friend instead of sending a rushed text. Maybe it’s redefining what productivity means, prioritising connection over consumption, or simply giving yourself permission to rest.

Western culture may not always encourage slowness, but that doesn’t mean we can’t choose it. Bali has taught me that presence, balance, and joy aren’t things we have to chase—they’re available to us right now, if we’re willing to slow down enough to notice.

Lessons from Living in Bali: What the West Can Learn About Slowing Down