What Bali Taught Me About Leadership

I didn’t go to Bali to become a better leader.

I went to Bali because I couldn’t hear myself think.

Grief was tangled up with ambition. Exhaustion hid behind achievement. And the version of leadership I was living out, day after day, didn’t feel like me anymore.

I booked the ticket in a moment of instinct. No itinerary. No expectations. Just a quiet ache to feel something different. To find space.

Bali gave me that.

It met me in the mess. It softened me with its rhythm. Slower mornings. Open skies. Incense curling through the air. And for the first time in years, I let myself stop performing and simply breathe.

That’s when I realised: I didn’t need a new leadership strategy. I needed a new way of relating to myself.

Because here’s the truth I had been avoiding:

You can’t lead others if you’re disconnected from yourself.

In Ubud, surrounded by green and silence, I began to ask new questions:

• What do I actually want my leadership to feel like?
• Who am I when the titles and tasks are stripped away?
• What’s the rhythm I need to be well—not just effective?

The answers didn’t arrive all at once. But the clarity started to return. In morning journaling. In the simplicity of meals. In the rituals of stillness.

I stopped needing to prove anything. And in that space, I remembered what I actually believe:

• That leadership is deeply human work.
• That rest isn’t a luxury. It’s strategy.
• That clarity comes not from doing more, but from feeling more.

From that stillness, my 3P Leadership Model was born:

Purpose – because meaning matters more than metrics. Without clarity on why we lead, we default to pressure, not presence.

People – because we don’t lead spreadsheets. We lead humans. And humans need connection, safety, and trust to thrive.

Process – because sustainable leadership isn’t ad hoc. It’s built through rhythm, reflection and consistent habits.

This framework didn’t come from a whiteboard session. It came from falling apart and choosing to rebuild with intention.

It became the foundation of Leaders Change Room and later, Your Best Year Yet. Not just programs, but living systems to support leaders who are holding so much, so quietly.

And it’s why I said yes to sharing my story in Women Living Fearlessly. Writing that chapter was emotional. But also freeing. Because the truth is, vulnerability expands us. It connects us. It reminds us that we don’t have to lead through silence.

We can lead through story.

If you’re a senior leader or HR professional reading this and feeling the nudge to pause to recalibrate your rhythm before the burnout catches up let this be your sign.

You don’t need a retreat in Bali to come back to yourself. But you do need to create space.

Space to reflect.
Space to remember what matters.
Space to reset how you lead—and how you live.

Bali taught me that silence can be the start of strategy. That slowing down isn’t the opposite of growth. It’s what makes growth sustainable.

And it gave me a new lens on leadership: One where success doesn’t cost your wellbeing. Where influence doesn’t require invincibility. Where clarity is cultivated, not forced.

You don’t need to burn it all down to begin again. But you might need to slow down enough to ask yourself:

What would leadership look like if it felt more like you?

If you’re ready to explore that, Your Best Year Yet was created for you. And I’d love to walk beside you on that journey.