By Dr. Tim Seelig—
To set the stage for this tale, let’s start at the very beginning. My son, Judson, was seven years old when I came out and left home and family behind. For the next 20 years, ours was a tenuous relationship, often completely estranged. Then things began to change: time, patience, unconditional love, and life happened with kids, marital changes, moves, religion, and HIV. Then we lost my daughter, Judson’s sister, Corianna. It was a lot.
Two years ago, I attended the Turtle Creek Chorale’s annual fundraiser. That was my chorus before San Francisco. Judson went as my +1. He bid on and “won” a week in a luxurious villa in Bali. When his plan to take work colleagues fell through, I was the lucky backup plan. I had not spent 2 weeks with my son in exactly 40 years, since 1986. It was high time.
Bali is a fantasy destination. I’ve heard about it since childhood. I grew up with musicals like South Pacific. My repertoire included “Kum Bah Yah” and “Bali Ha’i.” The song described a mysterious, magical, enchanted island where dreams await. “Here am I your special island. Come to me, come to me.” We accepted the invitation.
Then reality hit. You can’t see Bali from here, like in the musical. In fact, it’s on the opposite side of the planet. We took a deep breath and booked our 24+ hour travel. We invited our dear friends Robert and Bryan, who live in Canada, to join us. We were set … four gays and one metrosexual. (Is that still a thing?)
I know the last thing you want is a detailed daily travel log. I get it. I’ll hit the highlights, share one experience in depth, and touch on religion (you would expect that from me). Judson, Bobby, and I broke our trip up with four days in Hong Kong. We did the Lantau Island Buddha, Michelin-recommended street food at the night markets, and dim sum in a 100-year-old restaurant. I had my first chicken feet. Hong Kong is incredible. With bellies full, we set off for Bali.
We did all the things. We had adorable monkeys crawl all over us at the Monkey Forest. We sampled rare Luwak coffee, which involves a cute little animal called a civet that eats the beans and poops them out. The beans are extracted from the poop and roasted. I hope the extractors are paid well! The coffee is delicious.
There are temples everywhere. I mean everywhere. This is not like the South with a church on every corner. Every home and business have a temple placed right on the road. Eighty-seven percent of residents practice Balinese Hinduism. It remains deeply rooted in ritual practice over doctrinal authority, and involves communal religious obligation and ancestor veneration. This was all described to us in very personal ways by our guide and driver Eddie.
The surprising highlight of the trip was our visit to Pura Tirta Empul. It is a
stunning Hindu Balinese temple founded in 962 A.D. Its centerpiece is a large spring that has provided clear, cold water for over a century. As we entered the temple, we changed into special sarongs. We knelt at an altar adorned with flowers and incense to prepare for purification.
The water flows into two large, ancient pools, with water flowing from ornately carved fountains along one side of the pools. We were instructed to use 10 of them. In this deeply spiritual, quiet space, it didn’t even cross my mind to holler out when the cold water reached the upper regions of my sarong! This “baptism” was nothing like my first. I vaguely remember being dunked at six years old in a warm tub of water up behind the choir loft. This was not that. It was as far from the religion of my youth as I could get.
The ritual is designed for healing, emotional release, overcoming obstacles, and for spiritual purification. At each of the fountains, you show gratitude by bowing with hands clasped. Then, you place three handfuls of water to your face, submerge your head and shoulders under the water, and move to the next fountain. It is one of the most beautiful rituals of prayer I have ever experienced. With each fountain, you are challenged to dig deeper to uncover areas in your life that need help. (I could have used another 10 spouts.) It was wonderful to share this experience with the four fellow travelers, all of whom I love deeply.
We spent hours with Eddie, traveling all over. We asked if there were homeless people on the island. He looked at us like we were crazy. “No,” he replied. We asked why. He said, “Because we care about everyone.” Mic drop.
Eddie explained Nuduk Galih. When a family member dies, they are buried in a “temporary” cemetery wrapped in a cloth. After four years, they are exhumed. The family gathers to lovingly and respectfully clean the bones of the deceased. The remains are then cremated, releasing the soul to find its way to the next life. We have much to learn from these gentle people about our irrational fear of death.
What I will treasure most is simply the time we spent together. There were mornings spent around the big table at the villa talking about life and enjoying our coffee (not the poop kind), afternoons by the pool including massages from wonderful local therapists, evenings that included a Bali jigsaw puzzle, card games, reading, and more talk! There wasn’t a TV in sight!
Travel is magical. Travel with friends is even better. Travel with friends, your son, and your husband is priceless. We shared deep thoughts and a lot of not-so-deep ones. We brought Corianna into the conversation often. It was a precious time of processing, bonding, and healing old wounds.
It is difficult to describe how deeply affected I am by this time together. I’m not sure we’ll ever spend 2 weeks together again, but we always have these memories. As they say, “Sometimes to feel something you’ve never felt, you have to go someplace you’ve never been.” Bali turned out to be the promised enchanted island.
Dr. Tim Seelig is the Conductor Laureate of the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus. http://www.timseelig.com/
TLC: Tears, Laughs and Conversation
Published on April 9, 2026
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