Where Reverence Meets the Water
Balinese daily offerings are small, easily overlooked gestures of devotion. And yet, they quietly hold an entire way of seeing the world. In time, I began to understand this.
One morning, five women boarded a small boat from Pantai Padang Bai Beach in Bali. Waves crashed over our knees as we waded through the shallows. We were on our way to snorkel with manta rays at Manta Point, off the south shore of Nusa Penida Island. Meanwhile, we laughed as salt spray soaked our clothes and the wind tangled our hair.
The boat crew moved with practiced ease. The captain took his place at the helm, two young men secured our gear, and an older man with silver hair settled near the stern. As the engine roared to life, the shoreline began to fall away. Waves drenched our legs and our laughter rose above the spray, until…
Suddenly, my attention caught on something small and unexpected.
The older man held a simple yellow bag in his hands. While the rest of us braced against the motion of the boat, he sat quietly, as if listening for a different rhythm altogether. Then, as the jagged cliffs of Nusa Penida slid past, he opened the bag and, with a tenderness that stilled the air around him, removed a canang sari offering. Next, without the boat slowing down at all, gently reached over the edge and placed it into the water.
After that, he placed four canang saris aligned with the cliffside shrines. And when we slipped into the turquoise water, he released one more offering into the sea, this time a prayer for our safety as we swam among the manta rays. In that moment, I felt moved to be part of this tradition.
The Sacred Rhythm of Balinese Daily Offerings
This, then, was my introduction to the daily sacred devotional practice done by Balinese Hindus.
Over the days that followed, I learned that a canang sari is a small, symbolic offering created to keep balance between the spiritual and material realms. In many ways, it as an everyday ritual that holds the universe together.
Want more stories like these? Then please subscribe to our newsletter, Journeys of the Soul, for bimonthly reflections, spiritual travel insights, and first look at new tours.
At the same time, the Balinese honor both gods and demons through a mixture of flowers, rice, incense, and other items placed in a woven coconut leaf basket. People place these offerings everywhere: sacred temples, pelinggih shrines in front of homes and businesses, and even in vehicles.
Every single day, hands carefully weave and arrange them—acts of gratitude, peace, and reverence that, in turn, sustain the balance of the universe.
When the Offering Finds You
Not long after, on my second day staying at our resort, I found a canang sari placed on the steps of my cottage. Immediately, I felt honored and blessed to receive such a gift.
Later, local women welcomed us into the practice, teaching us how to weave our own canang saris, inviting us not just to observe, but to participate respectfully in their devotion.
Honestly, it was beautiful and peaceful.
Doorways, Shrines, and Everyday Devotion
As we traveled from place to place throughout Bali, I spoke with one of our guides and began noticing the pelinggih shrines standing in front of nearly every building. Through those conversations, I learned how he and his family engage in this daily practice to honor the gods.
In the US, mailboxes mark the entrances of our homes. However in Bali, shrines do—and in this way, each one is a living reminder to practice sacred reverence, not just sometimes, but always.
Because of this, it made me want to honor the sacred in my own home.
What We Carry Home
What stayed with me most, however, was not the beauty of the offerings themselves, but the constancy of the practice. In Bali, reverence is not reserved for temples or special occasions. Instead, it is woven into ordinary moments. It appears on doorsteps, at intersections, beside engines and storefronts, offered again and again with quiet devotion.
As I watched more closely, I began to notice how this rhythm shaped the way people moved through Bali. Here, there was evidence of patience, humility, and an awareness that every place is shared with something unseen. The offerings did not demand attention; rather, they gently invited it.
Upon returning home, I found myself wondering what small, daily acts might serve the same purpose in my own life. What if simple gestures could remind me to pause, to give thanks, to acknowledge the sacred woven through the ordinary? The Balinese daily offerings I witnessed were not meant to be replicated but instead, remembered as gentle reminders that reverence is a relationship we tend, not a destination we reach.
In that wondering, something in me softened. I didn’t feel called to do more, but rather, to notice more, and to let reverence take smaller, quieter forms.
While I don’t make a daily offering, I do have rocks that I painted placed in a bowl in the front yard that, for me, serve that purpose. And, rather than the smoke of incense, I use essential oils to symbolize the spiritual connection with the divine.
Living the Offering
In the end, I did not come home with a new ritual or a perfect way to honor the sacred. What I carried back instead was simpler, and somehow more enduring. It was an attentiveness shaped by repetition, by showing up again and again with care.
In Bali, reverence lives close to the ground. It is placed on steps, beside engines, at the edges of busy streets. Never does it announce itself; instead, it waits to be noticed. Watching the Balinese daily offerings return day after day, I felt how devotion can be steady without being heavy. And how sacredness can exist without being distant.
Over time, I began to sense how this rhythm might live beyond Bali. Not as something to copy, but as a way of relating—to mornings, to thresholds, to the unseen presence woven through ordinary days. In this way, travel becomes less about what we collect and more about what we learn to carry: a quieter pace, a softened gaze, and a renewed willingness to meet life with reverence, wherever we are.
About the Author
Suzanne Baldwin brings a lifelong devotion to listening, learning, and creative expression into all she does. After retiring from a 37-year career in financial services, including 27 years facilitating leadership development, change leadership, and DEI training in corporate settings, she now follows a more spacious rhythm of service and creativity.
A retired CSL practitioner, Suzanne continues to support spiritual communities by offering musical inspiration for CSL and Unity centers throughout Northern California. Travel, along with landscape and wildlife photography, is a deep passion—one that allows her to slow down, observe carefully, and honor the sacred presence woven through place.
We Love When You Share Our Newsletter!
It tells us that stories from our community are meaningful. Plus, when you join our referral program, you’ll earn thank you rewards for sharing these stories of sacred journeys with others.