Before I knew I was remembering Lemuria, I was already living it.
In 2019, after spending most of my life in Singapore, I felt a strong pull toward Bali.
I had lived in Singapore since I was 13. I grew up there, finished school there, had my first job and my first love there. It was the life I knew.
And yet, something in me needed to go to Bali. I couldn’t explain why. I didn’t know what I was going to do there, where I was going to live, or what would happen if I went. I just knew I had to find out.
It was the kind of desire you follow, or spend the rest of your life wondering.
So I went.
Initially, I thought I would try Bali for a month or two. Instead, I fell in love with it.
At the time, I was in a relationship, and eventually I returned to Singapore because I chose the relationship over Bali. Then we broke up, and almost immediately, I went straight back to Bali.
Looking back, the breakup felt almost like the final seal of “approval”—not that I needed one, but suddenly there was nothing left to hesitate about.
Bali, there I go.
By December 2019, I had officially moved there. I had no idea that the next three years would awaken parts of me I didn’t even have language for yet.
It was awakening what I now call my Lemurian codes—the wisdom, gifts, and frequencies of Lemuria already within me, waiting to be remembered.
The Night I Looked at the Stars and Felt Home
One of the first major openings happened during Nyepi, Bali’s Day of Silence. For one day, the island becomes extraordinarily quiet. There is no traffic outside, people remain at home, and at night, lights are kept off.
During one of my first Nyepi nights, around 7 p.m., I lay down on my balcony and looked up.
For the first time in my life, I saw the Milky Way.
Without the usual city lights, the sky seemed endless. I remember lying there completely in awe with this overwhelming feeling:
I’m home.
I didn’t understand what that meant yet.
During Nyepi the following year, something happened again. This time there was no spectacular Milky Way. It was rainy and foggy, but I woke up around 4:30 in the morning and decided that since I was already awake, I might as well look at the sky.
There wasn’t much to see, yet I felt that same sense of home.
And then I heard:
You are home. We are always with you.
That was when something clicked.
Oh my God. I’m a starseed.
Which was funny because I had known about starseeds for years. I had listened to other people’s starseed stories. One of my closest friends identified as an Orion starseed. Somehow, starseeds had always been around me.
I just thought they were a little weird and eccentric. Apparently, the joke was on me. That experience opened a much deeper exploration of starseed remembrance, healing, origins, gifts and purpose. While I was looking toward the stars, something else was happening much closer to Earth.
I was falling in love with water.
The Water I Loved and Feared
Living in Bali completely changed my relationship with the ocean.
I lived about ten minutes from the beach and started taking morning and sunset walks there. But as much as I was drawn to the sea, I was also terrified of it.
During an 8/8 portal in Bali, I nearly drowned. I had gone into the water and ended up in an area with a reef. Out of that entire stretch of beach, somehow I had walked straight into it and got caught.
Thankfully, I made it out.
But that experience brought me face-to-face with a fear that had existed long before that day. I had always carried an intense fear of drowning, despite simultaneously feeling drawn toward water. I had also experienced what I understood as a past-life remembrance of drowning.
My relationship with the ocean held both things: I wanted to return to it, and I was afraid it would kill me.
And yet, I returned.
I learned how to be a stronger swimmer in the sea, and later on, how to surf. For around six months, I surfed regularly, often at sunrise, spending roughly two hours in the water.
I don’t think surfing itself was what I loved most. It was being in the water that I fell in love with.
While other surfers might lie on their boards waiting for the next wave, I wanted to dip myself into the ocean. I loved soaking my entire body, head to toe. Being immersed in the sea felt healing, grounding and familiar. My nervous system loved it.
The sea I had once been terrified of became somewhere I willingly spent hours.
It wasn’t until later that I encountered another piece of information that stopped me in my tracks.
I came across a Lemurian teaching suggesting that some people who resonate with Lemuria experience a deep fear of drowning connected with spiritual accounts of Lemuria sinking beneath the water.
I want to be clear: I don’t personally remember the sinking of Lemuria. I don’t have a memory of standing there watching Lemuria disappear beneath the water, and that’s perfectly okay.
But when I encountered that teaching, I couldn’t ignore the connection to my own experience—the fear, the near-drowning, the past-life remembrance, and this simultaneous pull toward the ocean that had eventually brought me back into the water.
Another dot connected.
Not proof. Remembrance.
I Lived It Before I Understood It
Water wasn’t the only thing changing in Bali.
My relationship with nature deepened. I became increasingly conscious of plastic and what we were doing to the ocean. My connection with whales and dolphins grew. I hiked. I tried rock climbing. I spent more of my life immersed in the natural world.
My world became more elemental at the same time that my spiritual world was opening.
I wasn’t trying to activate Lemurian codes. I wasn’t searching for signs that I was Lemurian or building a spiritual identity around Lemuria.
I was simply living.
I lived it first. I understood it later.
It Was All Lemuria
At the end of 2022, after roughly three years in Bali, I returned to my hometown of Batam.
Strangely, it was coming home that gave me enough distance to understand what Bali had opened. I finally had the space to integrate everything that had happened.
Experiences that had once seemed completely separate began forming one story. What I had experienced through the stars, the water and the natural world no longer felt like unrelated pieces of my life.
Suddenly, I could see it.
After that, Lemuria seemed to find me everywhere. People who resonated with Lemuria began recognizing me as a Lemurian sister. Books appeared. Videos appeared. Teachings appeared.
The word Lemuria seemed to follow me.
Or perhaps it had been there all along, and I had finally learned how to recognize the traces.
Bali Didn’t Give Me My Lemurian Codes
Bali didn’t give me my Lemurian codes. They were already within me.
Bali gave them the conditions to awaken.
Before I could explain Lemuria, I was experiencing traces of it. Before I could invite others to remember, I had to remember. Eventually, that remembrance began expressing itself through my work: meditations, guided journeys, teachings, Lemurian codes, and eventually, the Lemurian Priestess.
None of it began because I sat down one day and decided Lemuria would become my work. It grew out of something I had already lived.
You Don’t Have to Go to Bali to Remember Lemuria
I needed Bali. Maybe you don’t.
I needed three years of experiences I wouldn’t fully understand until later. That was how my remembrance unfolded. Yours doesn’t have to look anything like mine.
You don’t need to move to Bali. You don’t need to spend years beside the ocean. And you definitely don’t need to nearly drown.
You can begin where you are.
If Lemuria has been calling you, Lemurian Priestess Initiation is a place to begin exploring your own remembrance. And if you’re ready to go deeper, Lemurian Priestess Portal takes you further into each of the elements and codes of Lemuria.
Bali was where I learned to recognize the traces.
Where are yours leading you?
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