in harmony with nature

 this week i traveled to a different village for a "forty two day baby ceremony". from the time the mother gives birth, until the 42nd day, she is not allowed to participate in any praying or making of offerings since she is considered impure after birth. now after 42 days she purified and is allowed to leave the house, and get back into society and temple life. also the baby is now allowed to go out of the house.

each village has its' own traditions even though they are all Hindus. in this village they celebrate the 42nd day with the slaughtering of a suckling pig, many offerings and a priest that conducts the hour long ceremony at the house. my friends grandfather had three wives (at the same time), and some 9 children from them.  the third grandmother is relatively younger and had offered to prepare all of the offerings for her step great granddaughter. during the ceremony, which is mainly the priest blessing the offerings while reciting mantras and sprinkling holy water on them and ringing his bell. different offerings are placed in different places. at one point they asked this third grandmother to hold the baby while the mother was being anointed. i laughed when i saw this because the day before they had gone to a clairvoyant that told them that the soul of the first grandmother is in the baby. so here we had grandma number three holding the baby who is actually grandma number ones soul! who would dream up a scenario like that when he took his third wife, who had been the servant to his first wife! i love it.

anyways, back to the ceremony. one of the offerings was an old metal rice cooking pot with a piece of dried leaf that had a mantra written on it in special white paste symbolizing brahma, the creator. on this was a new set of baby clothes, and other offerings. these were carried by a procession of women down to the banks of the nearby river. they were placed there with blessings that the baby be blessed to be in harmony with nature. they were left there, to the elements. in the village i live in they even take the baby at 6 months to the river and dip them into it to symbolize the oneness with nature, in the flow of the river. 

after my friend explained this idea to me, i began to see the connection with the inexplicable feeling i have here in bali. it doesn't matter whether it is riding for hours through the countryside on the back of a motorbike, or walking down a winding dirt path every morning to the sea, or seeing the little grass huts in the rice fields, or the offerings of ceremonies that have been washed ashore. there is always something that touches my heart deeply that i can't understand.

with this new information about this ceremony for the newborn, i realized how important being in harmony with nature is to the balinese. and that that is one of the secrets to the beauty here. when i walk down a stone path to a family compound, it sits in nature, at one with it, as if it grew there. when i see the people at work with their knives cutting leaves for their livestock, making a boat, preparing offerings, collecting fruits from the trees; it is all done effortlessly and peacefully in a kind of flow with nature. time after time i am faced with suddenly observing how my actions to grate, cut, carry or grind something use much effort, while they sit there looking as if they are not even doing anything. their use of their body, placing the offerings on their heads, or carrying things on their shoulders, their squatting or sitting on the earth for prayer in the temple courtyard surrounded by nature, all seems to be a part of this intention of theirs to be in harmony with nature. 

i have been studying Kabbalah for about 8-9 years now and the hebrew word "sviva", ("surroundings") is used in order to describe how we must be in harmony with our surroundings, we must annul ourselves to our surroundings, we must see the greatness of our surroundings and learn from them. and suddenly yesterday, while i was reading these words from the kabbalah lesson, i wondered if it is not exactly what the balinese are doing here. the intention in the studies is the people that are considered the "surroundings", the group of people studying kabbalah that all have the same goal and intention. they are the "sviva" that we look up to and try and emulate. and i wondered if the balinese do this, and succeed in being a very united and spiritual and relatively ego-less society because they have discovered the secret of living in harmony with Nature, and make it a priority in life.  

who is your soul?

today is the day before the 42nd day ceremony for my friends niece that was just born. this symbolizes the purifying of the mother so that she will be able to return to the temple and make offerings and will no longer be impure after giving birth. the baby will have her own purifying ceremony at 6 months, when her hair, which is considered impure because the mothers blood has touched it, will be shaved off at that ceremony allowing her too to enter the temple. this particular village that i am visiting has the ritual of making a very big ceremony at 42 days, and so members of the clan and family came over today to help with the slaughtering of the pig and duck and preparing quantities of food for the offerings and for all the helpers. 

when the preparations had ended in the afternoon,  my friend said that she will accompany her mother to visit a woman that will tell them who the soul of the baby is. the time for this to be done is before the ceremony tomorrow, so they will be leaving soon. i was very curious, but knew better than to ask if i could join them. experience has taught me that if i am meant to be there, they will ask me, and if not, then not.  just as they were walking to the car to leave, her mother asked if i would like to join them. "Yes!" and i quickly put on the sash, that symbolizes this is sacred, and left with them. 

we drove about 10 minutes through the village, which is always a treat. i just love looking down the little paths, at the architecture, vegetation, and what the people are doing on the streets and in the little shops. we parked the car and walked down little lanes with lush vegetation, and i felt i was in some magical world. each time we took a turn, another hidden path leading to more compounds even more picturesque, would  appear, and i just kept sighing from awe. 

the last time the grandmother had been here was 29 years ago when her third child was born. they were told then that the soul of her husbands mother. was in their daughter. they were very pleased. his mother had died when he was young, so this was a nice condolence for him. as we walked down the paths i wondered if she would still recognize the house. and yes, she did,  we entered a large square shaped compound with a big courtyard that we crossed in order to walk up a few steps to the family temple that is on the grounds. there were a few altars and a small room with a little porch with three old wooden benches. 9 people were sitting on them, listening to the old woman that was inside the room. the door was open, and the room was big enough for a small table and her chair. they were wiping their eyes from tears. i asked my girlfriend why. she said that they had come to ask about the souls of the father, who had died  and of the son who died 14 months later. maybe there was something wrong in the family that needed healing?

we waited on the side another twenty minutes until they had finished. there were no appointments, you just come, and if she is there, you can speak with her when it is your turn. we changed places with those that just left and i positioned myself on the bench so that i could see the woman that was able to tell you about your soul. she was probably 70 or so, with white hair in a bun, and wearing a blue kabiya lace blouse. an offering is brought to her, with whatever you want to put inside; fruits, flowers, money, and she lights incense sticks and places them in the straw basket with the offering on the table and asked the grandmother, father, and his sister (my friend) to help her to get in touch with the spirit.

after that one sentence, without asking any other questions, she closed her eyes and bent her head downwards and began to speak. she asked if they had come to know the soul of the baby, and that she is a girl, right? the three family members gave short one word answers of yes, or names, as the woman spoke. she finished after about ten minutes. they thanked her, took the offering back home, minus what she took out of it, and walked back to the car. 

they were quietly excited. they were told that the soul of the baby, is that of the mother of the grandfather. that means the same soul is also in his third daughter (30 years old) and also in his new grandaughter! i found this quite interesting, since the third daughter is now 7 months pregnant, after trying for 5 years, and was busy holding and caring for the little baby all of the time. it was so funny to see her with her little belly, holding a tiny newborn, like a trick of the eye. i wondered why she was with the baby more than the babys' own mother, and now it turns out they have the same soul. when we returned to the house, i asked if she thought that there was something special between her and the baby. she said that she was the first one to know that her sister-in-law was pregnant and also accompanied her to her first doctor appointment, and has felt very connected to the baby from the start.  so yes, she was not surprised to learn they have twin souls.

the other comments the old woman had mentioned was that the soul of the great grandmother has been living outside of bali, and the baby has a face like a foreigner (which is true!). when i first saw the baby yesterday, my friend commented to me that she has a nose like mine, and not like balinese people! i laughed. other comments had to do with exact names of family members, and their caste and bits about their life. 

the father of the baby had brought his i-pad with him and cleverly photographed the session so that the other family members that hadn't come, would be able to hear it all too. naturally the grandfather was very happy to hear that his mothers' soul was also in his new grandaughter. it is clear to everyone that once a woman marries a man here she becomes one hundred percent part of his family. so there was no possibility that the soul would be from the mothers family, but only from her husbands'. 

i asked my friend why it is important for them to know who the soul is. she said that it brings a feeling of love and closeness and honor to the relationship with the baby throughout their life, knowing that it is one of their beloved family that has returned to them! i laughed and said that for starters, you better love and respect all of your family members, because if not, you may end up with the soul of someone that was not one of your favorite relatives!

the whole idea of reincarnation is very prominent in everyones' lives here. people also speak about "old souls" and "young souls". especially when you know whos' soul is in your child it kind of makes the whole cyclical nature of life/death/reincarnation much more tangible and invites much love and tolerance for everyone, knowing they are doing their best. as we drove back home in the car and my friend began to tell me everything that was said to them in balinese, i asked if this woman can tell souls also of westerners, like me. her mother said that yes, of course, she invites the souls from the world to communicate with her, so it doesn't matter if they are from bali or not. i laughed and said that maybe i could find out if i lived in bali in one of my incarnations and that's why i feel so at home here! 

an auspicious day

last week, while walking on the main road into town, i noticed that one of the more prominent houses was burnt down. surprised, i asked my friend what happened, and he said that a few weeks ago the 7 year old boy was playing with matches near the gas balloon and it blew up and the boy was watched by god and ran to the other side of the house and was not hurt, but the house and shop attached, were all burnt to the ground. insurance? no. 

as weeks had passed i wondered why no one was cleaning up the debris. then yesterday as i walked into town again i saw the very high priest conducting a ceremony at the ruins from the fire. family members surrounded the small raised platform that he sat on, with offerings in abundance. i wondered what exactly was happening. so i asked my friend today about it. 

he explained that yesterday was the auspicious day for shadow plays. this is a very special day with many ceremonies taking place, that is why there was also chanting in the loud speaker going on most of the day. a child that is born on this day, may be hyperactive and by the time he is five years old the parents must make a special ceremony with a shadow play performance, costing about $1500.00...very expensive!

the high priest at the site of the burnt house, was purifying the earth, so that it would become neutral again, and then they can rebuild the house. the fire is a sign of destruction. when things begin to be more in darkness than in Light, fire comes and destroys it so it can be neutralized and be created again. "already today the trucks are there, collecting all of the debris, so they can start to rebuild after the purifying of the earth there."  i thought how in the west we leave everything just the way it was destroyed, until the insurance man comes and assesses things...then we can throw it out and start anew...whereas here, it has nothing to do with money, rather insurance for a better future, in the Light. 

we continued to discuss the Dark and the Light. i was sharing my understanding of the Kabbalah, and aware of many similarities with Hinduism. But the basic difference i found was that even though we both believe that our "work" is to choose the Light, after recognizing the Darkness, in Hinduism it is mainly by fear of the next incarnation that gives the strength to choose the Light. He also related to incarnations, as "seasons" that we have to go through. much more cyclical and repetitive. In Judaism it seems to me like it is out of a desire to become the vessel God created us to be, without any fear involved. it feels more linear. The goal is the same, but the path is slightly different. here, those who are "old souls", having been reincarnated many times already and are closer to the Light, may be a high priest, or priest in this lifetime. while "younger souls" are still very energetic and clever, and may be creating nuclear weapons and have much to learn about Darkness and Light, many more incarnations await them.  now, this time for the universe, is the Kali Yuga, the "season" of the darkest times, the most corruption, the biggest temptations for our Ego. the universe was created standing on four legs, and was very sturdy. then it was only on three, and as the "seasons" passed, only on two. and now in the kali yuga, it stands only on one leg. very unstable. if people are not making an effort to choose the Light, the Dark will be stronger and this one unstable leg which the universe rests on now, will fall over to the Dark, and need to be destroyed, like the burnt house, so that we can begin again neutral, and create a better universe.

i believe that audio life here has a very strong impact on the people. waking up to different chanting everyday, by different people, in the microphone, and chanting going on all day during auspicious days (i think at least once a week there is an auspicious day) gives a sense of holiness and unity and a taste that each day is truly unique and special. i also suddenly realized that we can never judge someone else, since each of us is in our own "season" of development. when we are ready, we can choose the Light.

 

in the name of change

my eyes suddenly opened and when i looked at the clock next to my head, it informed me that it was already 5:50...and that i was too late to get to the sea to see the sunrise. hmm...that had never happened yet...now what? as i lay in bed contemplating whether to quickly get dressed and get to the sea, or just to forget about it and do my morning ritual on the porch, i was suddenly bombarded by the loudest noise of animals i had ever heard! within an instant, instead of the odd rooster or chicken or bird singing out their song, suddenly a symphony of every rooster, chicken and bird in the forest surrounding me had joined together and were screeching out something!? i continued to listen, knowing that if a pig was being slaughtered they also suddenly all join in accompanying the howling pigs' last breath. but no...no pig sounds, and there was nothing anxious about their sounds....more like jubilation, or announcing something...

and then i realized it!  "here comes the sun!" this is how the animals in the forest greet the rising sun. what a surprise. i had spent my mornings by the sea, at the edge of the forest, listening to the waves or the silence, and had missed this major morning tribute by them to the newly dawning day. it continued for another minute or two, approximately the amount of time it takes for the sun to fully appear on the horizon, and then it slowly descended to the usual cookadoodledoo of a cock or two every few seconds, with a cow mooing and some birds singing too.

i laughed how i had received such a gift just when i thought that i had missed out on the sunrise. i decided to go down to the sea in any case since i love doing my exercises in the shining rays of the morning sun on the black rocks and sand. when i got there i scanned the shoreline to see where i could stand that would be level and smoothish. just as i began to do the tai chi warm up exercises, i heard a new sound. i continued facing the sun while exercising, but something in my mind was trying to recognize this unfamiliar yet familiar sound that repeated itself again after a minute or so. 

just as i turned my head to look in the direction it was coming from, i saw that the tide had created a small cascade of the stones and that what i was hearing was like a little waterfall as the waves pulled back over the rocks creating this lovely trickling sound. what a gift! each morning there are new sounds to the waves; their speed, their force, and now this lovely new cascading sound bringing happiness to my heart each time. 

i continued to do my exercises with the sounds of the sea in the background, anticipating the new cascading sound behind me. but suddenly it was no longer there. how strange? what happened to my new sound? ("who moved my cheese?")!  and then the realization occurred to me; "how could i expect it to stay that way? the sea is constantly changing. the ebb and flow of each moment is also the ebb and flow of the sea coming in closer to shore or going further out. no more cascade."

 i again laughed as i saw that being an obsessive compulsive personality, i love and need things to repeat themselves again and again and the belief that if there is more of something, it will be better. so my desire for more of this same lovely sound was now teaching me that there is no more. it was. now there is something else. just as magnificent, just as amazing, just as new, just as different. no need to cling, hang on, hold on, remain in what was. trust that the next moment is just as magnificent as the past one was. and only by constantly experiencing change can i appreciate even more each moment.

the memory of the two little piglets laying dead on the ground yesterday after i had just seen them all snuggled up sleeping on top of each other a few hours beforehand, appeared in my mind. change. i wanted them to stay alive. but they were dead. now there were six little piglets nursing. then i recalled how the day before, the man who had built the house i am living in, stopped by to visit my landlord as we sat on the porch. i was in shock. i knew him, after seeing him daily for two months, but the man slowly making his way towards us was just a shadow of him! 

i quickly asked my friend what i am witnessing. he told me the man had fallen ill a few weeks ago and he is slowly recuperating. as he sat on the porch next to my friend, i tried as best i could to change the expression of despair and confusion from my face. i knew it was not bringing any good energy to this man that was in need of positive vibrations. but i couldn't stop looking at him, almost with my mouth open in disbelief. what had changed? did he dye his hair? did he lose so much weight? where was the sparkle in his eyes that were now just heavy eyelids over eyes that were empty? his mouth that had been vibrant with a lovely smile or seriousness, was now weak and feeble, like an old toothless man, all sunken. this was a man that had spent his life with a sledge hammer cracking boulders, building walls, houses, with strength and vigor. i had never seen someones' spirit disappear so drastically physically and energetically in so short a time. 

we sat there, and i continued to look at him, trying to put my finger on what it was that had disappeared. i marveled at what a nice conversationalist my friend is, and how happy the ill man was, sitting there speaking together with him. after about ten minutes i could see a spark of light coming into his dull eyes. i realized the power of "bikur cholim", "visiting the sick". it is a deed in judaism. and now i had seen it before my very eyes. as he slowly walked down the path to make his way back to his house next door, there was a little more life in him. 

and now i was still walking back through the forest, reflecting on all of these changes. recognizing as if for the first time, but i guess it is just always the same "lessons" just at a deeper level, how important change, differences, shadow and light, are. how without the lack, the emptiness, i cannot appreciate the fullness, and without the fullness, i cannot appreciate the emptiness. that my constant desire for things to stay the same and always be "good", is a misconception, since i miss out on the exquisiteness of the change that is happening each moment, and inviting me to be here now, in appreciation, and then in the next moment, that reveals itself, and the next... 

 

don't worry- be happy!

as i returned from the sea this morning, something inside of me said i should take a look at the neighbors wall, after the hard rains of yesterday. so i passed my house and was saddened to see that again the stone wall had collapsed onto the road! i felt so sorry for him. he had just had it built a week ago, and after the first rains, part of it collapsed. everyone that passed by stopped and laughed, along with him and his wife.  then came the task of picking up all the rocks, and having it rebuilt again, hopefully stronger.  the workmen did it again and everyone was happy for him. but after the downpour yesterday, the same part of the wall was now broken on the road. 

a few hours later as i was placing the offerings at the entrance to the house, i heard the grandma of my compound suddenly laughing out loud. she had just walked over to the neighbors and saw the broken wall. laughing?! i was shocked. how could she laugh at someone elses' troubles?  but then i heard the owners laughing too. as i walked back to the house together with the grandma, she again laughed, saying "two times! again, and again..." and laughing. i realized that no one feels like a victim here. they are simply laughing at life! at how things happen...there is no worry, it is clear that there is "someone" else running the show, and everything is perfect.

i wondered if they would laugh also in the face of death, or if it had happened to them, and not to the neighbor? then i went off to meet my friend/landlord. i mentioned to him about the wall falling down again. before i had a chance to finish he was already laughing. i realized this is just a natural reaction to life. i even asked him if it had happened to his wall, and not the neighbors', would he still be laughing? and he laughed and said "of course!"

as i returned home i saw the grandparents standing next to the pigpen where the 9 little piglets had been born two days ago. i joined them to enjoy watching the little newborns. but to my surprise one of them lay dead on the ground. a look of horror crossed my face as i looked towards the grandma to ask what happened?! and ...she laughed and said "from the rain, two died." i quickly counted and found only 6 piglets there. again trying to understand the indonesian i asked why only six? and she laughed again, along with the rest of the family and said that another one had died the night before.

so my reflection on whether they would  be laughing even in the face of death, was just answered... Yes! i asked myself why this seems like a strange response to me? and i thought that if i really and truly accepted everything as perfect and god's will, there would be no place for regret or worry or anger or fear. whatever was being revealed to me would just be the reality at this moment, for reasons beyond my understanding, and can i just watch it all, participate in it with perfect faith? not be identified with it, not think things should be other than they are? and then maybe i too would have a natural response of laughter as life revealed itself before me each moment.

javanese influence....

while sitting on the porch in the evening, i heard gamelon music coming from the forest. the happy tune was a new one i had never heard before, and was unlike anything i knew. i wasn't sure whether it was from someones i phone, or television, or if it was for real. as it continued and continued i decided to ask the grama that lives on the compound what's going on. i managed to understand 3 words from her answer; person, eat, sate', hmmm....okay...the music is coming from the restaurant on the main road that sells sate', and someone arranged it....(i guess...). it was raining, the restaurant was small, maybe someone was catering a meal and entertainment there (my western mind...balinese never do things like that)  but after it continued blaring out from the microphone for over an hour, changing to storytelling that i assumed was for a shadow puppet play, i decided that this is an opportunity not to be missed. with flashlight and umbrella in hand i walked through the muddy puddles of the winding forest path and in a few minutes was at the main road and walked over to the neighbor who had set up a small low stage and had male musicians and story tellers seated on the floor in a big circle. 

in usual balinese hospitality, a woman that was sitting and watching, quickly motioned for me to join her, instead of me standing alone on the side. i did. and what proceeded was such a treat! the 20 men that were sitting there playing drums, gamelons, flute, and cymbals all knew the known melodies, and took turns playing different instruments, of story telling in ancient language while someone else follows his tale and interprets it into modern balinese each time. one man, who has died his greying hair the color of henna, is apparently the host, and owner of the restaurant next door where his wife works non -stop. he was busy making sure there was beer and grilled meat on skewers and cigarettes for the men sitting in the big circle on stage. i was impressed seeing how being a generous host was a full time job for him, and he didn't miss a beat. 

it is always so surprising and humbling when i see these men break into song or dance. each of them is such an artist, and when i have seen them on the street until now, i had no idea. it seems as though all balinese men know how to either play an instrument, story tell, or dance! and even when he would suddenly leave the stage to grab someone that was onlooking to come join them, another talented man would appear. and the audience was about 10 little kids and me and the other woman and a grama!

all the men of all ages,were smoking non stop. they all had the ability to "play" together, whether on instruments, dancing, or chanting. there were no stars, no performers, it was all just one big fraternity of men from the village. slowly the women and younger kids started joining the growing audience that was standing and watching. part of the fun was that one of the men with a glass of beer in his hand, had to stand up and improvise a dance in the middle of the circle, to the roars and pleasure of the crowd, then hand the beer glass to another innocent man sitting on stage, or in the audience, which meant that now the new man had to perform! first he drinks the glass of beer in one go, and it is refilled and he has to dance with it, and then hand it to the next "victim"!

the energy was rising slowly as two young women suddenly showed up in jeans and t-shirts and the host motioned to them to sit down on stage with the men. for the next hour the two of them were busy applying makeup to their faces, while the men continued with their music and song and dance. it was amazing watching how each of them put layers and layers of makeup on until they had turned into the stereotypical balinese woman dancer; white skin, blue eye shadow, red lips, rosy cheeks, all very exotic looking. next, after realizing there was nowhere to change into their costumes, they proceeded to wrap themselves in the bolts of glittery, vibrant colored material right there on stage. this is how the dancers get dressed. there are no zippers or buttons or sizes...you just wrap and wrap your body up and then put a safety pin on the end of the material. i was thrilled to be able to have a first hand look at how it is all done, while the men were non-pulsed by it. they were too busy making frog sounds while the host had donned a mask of a frog and had changed into army khaki clothes and was jumping around the stage making sharp movements with his head that really made you think he was a frog. and the beer was flowing...

next the small orchestra changed instruments and the woman (around 22) that was now wearing a headdress with feathers and was looking very exotic and sumptuous, began to do erotic dancing to the glee of the men. with a sash in her hands she was out to lasso a man that would have to dance opposite her on the stage. the point is to entice the man, but not to "give him the goods". i guess that is the typical burlesque or go-go dancing in the western world, just here she is totally covered in a skin tight costume from head to toe with only bare arms. THAT is called sexy. 

for the next hour different men were invited or even forced to have a go with her for a few minutes as the crowds roared. what amazed me was that it had turned into what i imagine a stag party must be like, but all of us women were sitting there watching it all. as the female dancer swooned them all with her undulating pelvis, the men each enacted different positions of sexual intercourse with her, again, with everyone fully clothed. i was in shock.

not only because of all the children who were there watching, but because of the unabashed courage (or maybe uncontrollable arousal) of the men to stand there on stage in front of everyone and 'let it all hang out"!  there were some men, who when she came round with her lasso sash to invite them, refused...shy, and uncomfortable and unwilling to take part. it was interesting to watch this all, compared to our western approach to eroticism, sex, feminism, masculinity, and intimacy. here everyone was fully clothed, standing up, and being humorous, and creative in their "sexual performance". 

when the first woman had finished her tango with the men, she bowed and in a very business like way began to undress, just as she had dressed, on stage, and removed all of her makeup while the second woman repeated the couples' dance. it was so strange to suddenly see this woman that had been so erotic, turn back into a young woman that had just finished "work" and was changing back to her jeans and t-shirt. it was "just a job"... 

when the second woman began, i was the first culprit. they love seeing foreigners on stage, and also wanted to give me the honor since i am their guest, even though i had never spoken to any of them before. even though this was meant to be between a man and woman, i knew i had to just get up there on stage and dance around with her a bit, to satisfy the crowds, which i managed to do, without my sarong falling off, like the other time.

what had started off as an exciting and interesting and touching evening of watching all of these very simple but talented men of all ages and walks of life enjoying playing music, story telling and dancing together was now turning into a bit of a vulgar show. one man, when pulled by the sash to dance with the second woman, actually grabbed her forcefully and began kissing her against her will. as she pushed him away, she wiped her tears and redid her make up. and we all sat there and watched...entertainment. the saddest part for me was that her own husband was drumming the music next to her while this went on. i wondered how both of their young husbands felt about their wives making money by doing this popular form of dance that the balinese men and women so much enjoy watching and participating in.  and the host, now quite drunk, kept trying to get a blonde tourist that had shown up, to do the erotic dancing with him on the stage. but she refused. the redeeming grace at the end was when the dancer lassoed her drummer husband, and the two of them did a very sweet, tame, naive dance together, without all of the overt sexuality that had been the case with most of the other men. 

 i wondered how balinese women feel about all of this? we were all watching it...we encourage it...it is obvious that the men were all getting out their sexual fantasies and for the women...it is work. i wondered if this is how the children receive their sex education? is this just normal and upfront, instead of something we westerners do behind closed doors or in pornographic movies and magazines? and what pressure this must put on the men, who "if you are a man" get up there and "perform"!  it left me with many questions.  i ask them many questions about love, intimacy, falling in love, marriage, since it is still unclear to me what happens here...where my friends grandfather had 3 wives; the first, then the second, who was the younger sister of the first, and then the third who was the servant when she was younger, but then married him when she became (pregnant?) of eligible age! and they all lived happily ever after.

so, i spoke with my friend and asked him what this eroticism meant. he told me that the man who was the host is a big gambler, and this was a private party that he had made in honor of his first grandson that was born. bringing the women to dance the joged dance in this erotic way, comes from java, and is much more gross than the subtle and minimalistic aesthetic way that the balinese naturally perform joged in public. he said that had he been invited to this party, he would have to decline the invitation, since this is not a way he believes intimacy and dancing should be shown. he spoke about the original balinese joged dancing as an art form that is in transition now as influences from the west and areas outside of bali enter society and culture. it was a pleasure listening to him share his feelings about intimate relationships. and just reinforced my gut feelings that i am friends with a very special couple and i am glad it is them that are guiding me through balinese culture and religion. 

balance

as i went to place the little square banana leaf offering with rice on the small altar in the garden this morning, i was surprised to find a lovely red rambutan fruit on a little square of banana leaf, inside the altar! it touched my heart when i realized that earlier in the morning the family living on the compound had been picking the ripe rambutan to bring them to market. and now i realized that you don't just "bring them to market", first you make an offering of thanks, and then you bring them to market.

next, i sat down on my porch to eat the plateful of sliced fresh papaya for breakfast. as i enjoyed the color and taste i recalled how i used to laugh when i would see the girls walking along the path with a big long papaya on their head! it just seemed so odd to me that you put it on your head, instead of carrying it in your hand. but now, when i sat here reflecting on how my understanding and appreciation of things has changed with time here, i realized that by placing it on their head and walking, their bodies remained perfectly balanced....there was not a big heavy papaya in one hand.

this suddenly connected to the way they sweep. only the right hand is used (for everything, since the left is considered "dirty" because of its' use in personal hygiene) and the left hand is placed behind their back. at first, when i saw people sweeping like this in india, and here, i was impressed by their attentiveness and distinguished stance. but once i started sweeping too, i felt how unbalanced my body felt with my left hand just hanging there at my side. and when i tried to imitate them and place it folded at the elbow on my back, everything felt more balanced. 

and in my never ending attempt to put my finger on "what is it" that makes bali and the balinese so different than other countries and peoples, i thought "aha! maybe it is the importance of balance in their lives!"  i see it with them as they climb up a coconut tree, or as they walk on the narrow ridges of the boat out at sea, in perfect balance. it is also part of the blessings i pray each day..."that our shadow side, our dark side, will be in balance today". it is really the first time in my life that i am willing to accept that we do have a shadow/dark side and that it is inherent to everything! until now i kept hoping and believing that if i just try hard enough to "be in the light" than there won't be any dark! but now i realize that there is always a shadow, and that all that is needed is balance...that it is not greater than the light.

it is in their food too...the hot spicy sambal and chilies that characterize typical balinese food, is balanced by the bland white rice they eat it with. and it is also in their life style! foreigners used to laugh saying "if they don't have a ceremony they work!" and commenting how every other day is a ceremony here and how little the people actually work, and how much money they spend on all the offerings for the ceremonies. it did seem quite strange, compared to our western lifestyle. that people live such a poor physical existence but spend half of their salary on ceremonial offerings. also there didn't seem to be such a strong emphasis on a work ethic here. on the other hand, they really do not have the habit of "taking a vacation". there is no such thing as that here. most people work 7 days a week their whole life. so it is as if this balancing act of work and prayer without a typical 40 hour work week, is what brings balance to their lives on a daily basis, thus making it unnecessary to "take vacation"...since there is nothing to take vacation from...life is just in the now and in balance.

so often i find myself feeling "odd man out" here, as i carry something or do things. it seems as if i am the only one carrying things in my hands that are slipping or odd shaped, or making movements that are clumsy or exaggerated. i believe that they have been raised with a great accent on balance, so that whatever they do, the solution will be found first by staying balanced, and then getting to where you need to go, and not like my own sense of urgency at the price of how things may be out of balance, but at least they are getting done!

this same balance can be seen in their quiet voice tone, and laughter when ever possible. when they work, few words are spoken, and always very quietly. but if there is an opportunity to laugh with someone, than that is what also keeps a healthy balance within. this balance is also sensed in situations that in the west would excite strong reactions; like death, accidents, surprises, suddenly meeting people...their response is one of outward calm and connectedness. no big hugs, or screams or yelling...maybe they stop for a moment, and reflect and then continue on with life.

what i have mentioned are all of the observations i have seen of balance. but i also think there is a much greater balance in the unseen, but exists here. i feel it when i walk through the forest in the morning and placed in the forest, in each persons' plot of land, are the altars, and temples that bring a balance to living life and expressing gratitude for it... a lovely balance that makes life feel magical.

creative solutions

i needed to go to the big city in order to renew my visa, and i chose the inexpensive public transportation (bemo) for the journey. i wondered whether to put my camera in my bag "just in case" something caught my attention, but opted not to, and set off. it is always an adventure to go by "bemo" because you never really know what to expect. for example, once i caught one, i found myself after a few minutes, driving down a side road, with the driver stopping at some mans' building site and unloading the big cement door frame that the only other passenger with me, had placed in the vw van before i got on. i thought that was very nice of the driver to go out of his way in order to help this poor man, and all for an extra 10 cents. 

on the way in, i knew i would have to change bemos three times to finally reach my destination. i was pleasantly surprised to discover that my driver actually lived near where i had to get to, and he would be driving there anyways since he was tired and wanted to go home and rest. before that he asked to stop for a minute and buy a cigarette. Yes, you buy 1 cigarette, if you don't have enough money for more...which was his case. i too tried my luck and as we passed the cellphone center that i also needed to stop at, i asked him if he would mind dropping me off there and waiting 5 minutes and then we would continue. no problem! did a quick u-turn in the middle of the road and i jumped out to do my business. the 5 minutes, of course, turned into 10-15, and eventually i saw him standing outside the cellphone center, just looking at me. they would never make a fuss about it. realizing that it's just taking longer than i thought. 

once we left and continued on to the immigration office, he made a point of explaining to me how much i should expect to pay the different bemos on my return journey. i knew the prices and was happy to see he was being very honest and helpful and not trying to take advantage of me being a tourist. i also knew the game rules; always have exact change for the trip, because they don't give you change if you give more! unfortunately, i didn't have a small $2 bill and gave him a 50,000 ($5) for the hour and a half trip. he took out some bills to give me change, and i looked at him and laughed. he still owed me 50 cents (enough for me to buy food for today). he smiled and said "maybe you would like to give me the extra 50 cents?" i suddenly remembered the first time i had gone on a bemo and was not given change and was very resentful and felt taken advantage of. i had asked a balinese friend why they don't give change? she said "maybe they think you would like to give them a tip since you will never see them again!" what?! strange ideas!but now, after living here for almost 2 years  i thought it was such a cute way to get more money, that i laughed gladly to help him out and we parted ways. later i told my balinese friend about it and he commented "yes, when i was in jakarta, a gang on public transportation distracted my attention while one of them slit my pouch with a knife and took all my money. here in bali, if someone needs money, they just ask you if you will give it to them!"

on the ride back home a bemo stopped on the road where i was standing. (there are no bus stops, wherever you are, even if you are on the other side of the road, is where they will pick you up!). when i hopped into the open sided mini van circa 1970 or so, i had to laugh, because now i needed my camera! the only other person in the van was a woman my age, but on the floor were 24 geese! i just shook my head in disbelief of the creative solution she had found to travel by public transportation a long distance, with all of these geese!

how would you travel, alone, on public transportation with 24 geese? really! really? well...i liked her solution the best!  she had taken a big white plastic sack, and cut 12 holes in it, and the neck and head of each geese stuck out of the hole to the fresh air, and the body and its droppings were in the sack. i just kept looking at these 24 geese heads sticking out of the 24 holes in the 2 sacks on the floor, wondering how in earth did she manage to get each geese into this sack and its head sticking out?! when it came time to drop her off, i again found myself going off in the opposite direction than where i was headed, since the driver was taking her home. after helping her grab the sacks with the geese and carry them into her yard, she gave him $1 more than the usual 50 cents for the trip.  and with that "tip" he decided to stop at the gas station and "fill 'er up" with 50 cents worth of gasoline! 

i enjoy seeing how people here find creative solutions for living...which are so different than my western mind. 

in sync

for the past year and a half i have spent dawn and dusk at the sea. watching the sea, the shoreline, the waves, and the coast change with the ebb and flow of the moon, and the change of seasons, and the solstices. i had never followed something like that day after day for so long. it enabled an intimacy that i had never known before. the stones would speak to me, the sun rays would share their magic as they danced on the sea, and the coast was alive.  

when my friend said that he needed stones to cover the ground around the new house, i happily volunteered to sit by the sea and collect sacks of stones for the project. each day i would observe if it was high or low tide, and what kinds of stones and rocks the sea had brought ashore or swept away to the sea. different places around the house demanded larger or smaller rocks, round or flat, etc. after spending so many hours daily at the beach, i knew when and where the rocks were so that gathering 8 sacks a day could be an enjoyable easy task, or a tiring and difficult one, kind of like going against the grain, trying to collect little pebbles when there weren't any. i was sure that since he grew up here, he too knew the sea as intimately as i did, but when we collected stones together a few times, i realized that only someone that has sat at the same place day after day can really recognize the changes and nuances, and that deciding in advance what stones you are going to collect, does not make much sense, since maybe there are no pebbles today, only big rocks!

after a months respite from stone collecting for the landscaping, i finally returned to my place by the sea. i was in shock! instead of the intimate, beautiful, alive shoreline that i remembered i found "just a shoreline" and even littered with garbage that the tide had brought in. i looked around trying to see what kinds of stones i could collect today, but it all just looked abandoned. how could this be? i know a totally different reality. i remember it. i experienced it. i lived it. 

and suddenly i understood what the kabbalah has been teaching me for the past 8 years. that first we were "given" everything by God. and it felt good and right and comfortable and true. but we slowly were distanced from it until it was almost entirely lost. but there is still the "taste" the remotest of memories, the "point in the heart" and now it is up to us to purposely and intentionally be active participants in desiring the connection again, that intimacy with what is true and right and real. now we have to do it consciously, and not just be given it. now i have to feel the barrenness of being by the sea, not in touch, not in sync, with the life force that is there, with the holiness and rhythm that can be felt when one is a vessel for gods' will, and not just "taking". that there is abundance in the universe, and it is gods' desire to bestow it to us, on condition that we are active partners in it, and not just taking, raping, selfish, greedy, but have understood "the wisdom of receiving " ("chochmat hakabbalah"). 

the experience is entirely different when i am "in sync", "at one with"...rather than just coming to fill up my sacks with stones. it demands a listening, a respect for the other, patience, and trust. the sea and shoreline have not changed. it is only my perception of them that has changed. it all seems random, chaotic, meaningless. the harmony and flow and beauty are hidden from my egoic sight that has just come to "get some stones". and as i sat and looked at the waves, the rocks, the sand, the sea, i knew it would take time. i would have to slowly build up a "witness" again, that would notice the ebb and flow, and the delicate balance and changes that are perfectly in alignment with some greater plan. and all that was left was that little memory of what was, and is now gone. that is what is giving me the desire to now consciously create that delicate contact with nature that i have lost. and i know that once i have made that top priority, instead of "getting some more stones" to finish the landscaping, all the stones i will need will be waiting there as a gift to be enjoyed...but first i must become a vessel for gods' will to flow through me again...a hole in the pipe for His music to be played. it cannot be rushed. it will be built up slowly, day after day, with each small effort i make to show up and be attentive, to listen, to observe. i am grateful for the invitation.

returning

transitions enable seeing things in a new way. so returning to bali after a 2 week stay in israel is an opportunity to try and put my finger on what suddenly makes my heart sing.  first of all, it is having total amnesia as regards bali, until i return here. it is wiped out of my mind during the first 24 hours or so of being away, and leaves no visible clues to hang on to. so as i exited the airplane and suddenly felt the warm comfortable air on my skin, i suddenly realized what i needed weather wise! it is like being in a womb where the temperature stays the same and feels just right.

next was the relaxed and simple atmosphere at the airport passport control. having been in transit for 3 days, and been through passport control in israel, jordan, abu dhabi bangkok and singapore during that time, it was easy to feel the difference of smiling faces and human contact with an open heart. it was like meeting old friends. and even though i was disappointed and surprised not to see a familiar face of my cab driver picking me up once i exited, the situation was soon resolved with smiles and laughter about the price and the long drive (3 hours) to my place on the northern coast.as i hired a cab. life in bali is happening right on the sides of the narrow roads, so that too makes everything feel close and intimate. the dogs were the only ones up and about at 1 in the morning and i was happy not to have to come in contact with the "shadow side" of  bali that is out and about from midnight till 3. so the ride was without seeing any ghosts or spirits, just dogs respectfully moving to the side of the road as our lone car passed them. the fog over part of the drive up the mountainside only brought a chuckle to my new driver, as he commented on how difficult it is to see and drive like this. laughter is their reaction of choice in most circumstances.

by 3 a.m. we had reached the main road of my village, which was all closed up at that hour...no neon signs or anything...just a lone motorbike or two starting to bring goods to the morning market that would be opening in another hour. although a new dirt road had been made leading to my house, the driver chose not to chance driving on the steep narrow path, and left me off on the main road to walk the 5 minute walk with my little cellphone flash light and carry on bag. as my feet touched the narrow dirt path, i heard the rushing of the water that was flowing through the irrigation ditch along the side of it, and soon found myself plodding through the mud while holding my long skirt in the air. ah...so this is what it is going to be like once the rains begin! with flip flops everything is possible.

happy to arrive at the cement path leading to the compound and that the dog did not wake everyone up by barking at me, i happily walked past the small rooms and grounds until i reached the house i am living in. my friends had chosen to sleep there in order to welcome me once i arrived. i was glad the door was unl0cked, and that the four of them were sprawled out on the two mattresses on the floor, fast asleep. after using my cozy squat toilet, and  "showering" by pouring cool water on my feet from the water tub and little bucket, i was happy to see my girlfriend suddenly open up her eyes enough to give a welcome hug and fall back asleep. and i was finally back in my little peaceful empty cream colored bedroom, laying on a mattress after being in transit for 3 days and using airplane seats and airport chairs to sleep on. suddenly i heard raindrops and realized the first rain was now falling on the new roof, and the long awaited rains were now dampening the good earth. i looked out the open window and was surprised to see how tall all of the new plants in the garden had gotten after just 2 weeks! unbelievable!

as the dawn broke, i too awoke and felt "at home". fresh papayas from the neighbors tree had been purchased by amerta, since he knew i love to start the morning meal with them. next his mother showed up with a big smile and sparkling eyes. it is not balinese style to touch people when greeting, so we both just kind of smiled and giggled to greet each other after the 2 week reprieve. even though we can't really speak much to each other, we have made a bond in different ways. she later appeared with a plate with food she had prepared for her and her husband for the day; steamed white rice, a little piece of fried fish, a teaspoon of spicy sambal and a few tablespoons of spicy cabbage soup all covered by 2 banana leaves. that would be eaten in a few hours at room temperature, once i had finished making the morning offerings of gratitude.

i opened up my small carry on bag, which is all that i returned with, and gave them the used t-shirts, which were excitedly received, and the mints and floor squeegie, which were the only gifts i thought to bring. everything is so cheap here, that anything i bought abroad would be ridiculously overpriced and outrageous if they knew how much i paid for it. and since i lack  nothing, and neither do they, i had preferred to not play santa claus. but did regret not having thought a little more about something for everyone. 

once i was alone i saw how much i appreciate my daily routine of making offerings, of showering, and of going around the house and grounds, speaking words of gratitude to god for the water, the fire, the air, the food, the friendship, the earth, the protection, the sleep, the balance in our lives, and the oneness of it all. it is a time of connecting to something much greater than the world i see, and it is an important part of my life here. i tried to continue doing it while in israel, but was "forced" to stop by a series of obvious obstacles that were showing me that this is not done in israel! i respected that...even though it left me feeling cut off from my "Source". 

as i sat on the porch, looking out at the forest while i began to eat the ripe delicious orange papaya, a parade of 10 yellow butterflies began to fly on the dirt road in front of me. i marveled at what perfect timing it was and how happy they made me feel, and welcome! and after they continued their dance for the fifth time, i had a feeling that i was bringing them as much pleasure as they were bringing me! they were just as happy that i returned as i was. and in the midst of all of this idylia, the sound of the chain saws began. aha...a bit of reality. bali is growing....the north is growing...the forest is being cut down by young families that have "made it" so they can build a house on a small piece of land. how much longer will the dirt paths and forests and butterflies and pigs and cows and grasshoppers be around? how soon until the tree lined fishermans shore becomes a row of villas owned by foreigners?  

i set out at noon to say hello to my former landlord and also to apologize for waking her up at midnight to find out where my cab driver was or wasn't. she greeted me with fresh mangos from her garden  and lots of patience as i tried to copy/paste (unsuccessfully) photos i had taken of her lovely villa. next down to the resort by the sea where i charged up my internet stick and was kindly and patiently explained to about copy/paste, and welcomed back. from there i walked to my favorite spot at the sea, on a big curving rock at shore beneath the huge tree, and just enjoyed seeing the lovely water and view. my body was taking in all of the impressions, that are so natural and simple here, and had been replaced by olive trees and distant views of the mediteranean sea during my 2 week stay in yodfat.

as i walked back to my house through the forest, saying hello to a smiling man i don't know that passed me on his motorbike, and feeling the dirt beneath my feet, and the priest calling out hello from his garden as i passed his house, and my neighbor coming over to the wall that separates the property and welcoming me back, even though i have only seen him once, i asked myself, what is it that makes me feel so open and happy and at peace and at one? i have no idea...i just know that it happens to me when i am here. it happens to me when i am suddenly aware of the spiraling smoke from the incense rising to the sky from my offering at dusk, that makes me feel connected to something much greater, and that i have not found anywhere else, but here. i am grateful for the opportunity to participate in this lifestyle. and i count my blessings for each moment that i can feel this way. it is a gift, it is real, and all i try to do is join in and be grateful for it while it lasts. and i thank all my family and friends that are physically distant from me, but are deep in my heart and who support and encourage me to continue living from my heart, even if i don't understand it. amen

pandas' puzzle

i used to buy esoteric childrens' books when my kids were young because i liked reading them to them and the drawings were lovely. one of them was called "pandas' puzzle" and was about a panda bear. he wanted to find out who he was; a white bear with black spots or a black bear with white spots, so he travelled around the world visiting places hoping to find his answer. one of the places he went to was a buddhist monastery in the mountains of tibet. that was one of my favorite pictures in the book. it was a double page spread of ethnic dressed men playing on instruments i had never seen before in an exotic environment, and panda joined them. he played a drum.

today i traveled along with the other 35 women from the gamelon temple orchestra, to a temple up in the mountain village of kintamani. it is a village near the batur lake, which is where we get our abundant water in our village which is down by the sea, 90 minutes away from there. and as i sat there playing the gamelon music as a gesture of praise and gratitude to god for the gift of this water, i suddenly had a zoom out view of the temple and the surroundings; mist mingling with the steep mountains covered by the tall pine trees, and the peaked roofs of the outdoor temple complex, and a bunch of dark skinned, mustached men with turbin like head coverings, and me playing a gamelon chime!

the "is this for real?!" moment happens to me every now and then here in bali. and it was happening again now, with a kind of observer within me enabling to also be playing the music and also be watching myself sitting there in this other worldly environment. and yes, the only foreigner. maybe that is part of what makes it unique each time, finding myself among all these lovely balinese villagers...just part of it all.

when my friend told me a few days ago about this once every 10 years, week long act of gratitude by all the priests and many villagers, i was so curious to be part of it all and see and feel what happens. i tried to speak with one of the priests to see if i could join him on the trip, but it was too complicated. i try to let go of "wanting" things, so if a desire arises and i express it and it does not "open up" for me, i let it go and assume that something else is in store for me. i knew i would be going there on the 3rd day of their week stay, so i just told myself to be patient and grateful and not to want it all! 

we left before dawn in a few old vans. most of the women are not used to going in a car, only riding motorbikes, so they were concerned about nausea and were busy choosing where to sit and what food to eat or medicine to take so they could make it through the 90 minute ride. lots of laughs about it all. i figured with 60 years of being in a car, i could handle the back bench, and it was fine. the ride is on a steep winding narrow uphill road. it was quite appropriate to be passing many men and women walking kilometers, who were carrying a big bucket on their head with water they had collected from their village spring or well in order to bathe and cook...making me all the more grateful that our village has running water! and that was the reason the priests and villagers were devoting a week of intention to god/nature in gratitude. 

the site itself of the temple reminded me of the grave site of rabbi shimon bar yochai near tzfat in israel. the complex of open air temple was built on a steep hill with lots of little houses huddled near it, where families live, but during this week, they rent out their rooms for a few $ to the devotees that come for a few days. the rooms are small, old, and unkempt, but a thin mat on the floor is all anyone is looking for so that they can just lay down and sleep there like that. no furniture, dusty windows, and the word "slums" is the closest i could find to reflect the look of it. so it was quite incongruous for me to be invited by one of the gamelon women to follow her, after we finished playing our music, to her room to hang out until we would leave again a few hours later. the balinese are used to resting between 11-1, and today was no exception. they just needed a flat surface for a few hours. she is quite a high class woman, so it just surprised me to see how these surroundings did not make the slightest difference to her. she felt just as comfortable here, with friends and family, as in her home, even getting undressed in front of all of us as we sat out on the little porch.

i was not interested in napping and was so curious to have a few hours here at the temple, so after taking in this sideline glimpse, i headed back through the steep narrow pathway to the nearby temple again. there i found that all of the men that had gathered round the bale while we were playing, and seemed so at peace with the music, were actually a mens' gamelon group from another village and it was now their turn playing. while they played, another group of 20 men played on another bale with different gamelon chimes and drums, some 10 meters away. while this was going on the chanters were singing into the microphone songs of praise to totally different rhythms. a man started speaking to me amongst all of these sounds in the quietest voice, telling me a long story in indonesian, without me understanding a word of it or even able to hear him. but when he laughed, i laughed, and he was happy to continue, sharing something that had to do with god...and nothing to do with making a pass at me, which is not something any of them do. it isn't part of their lexicon.

i sat there and tried to figure out what is going on?  why are they all performing at the same time? and for who? there is no one there other than us, and the villagers that are busy in clusters of men or women, preparing food for us or offerings for a ceremony. another "aha" moment while i was playing the gamelon, was suddenly realizing that we are playing this music for the mountains, trees, air, sky, spirits....this is not for us or for any humans. the whole atmosphere is unpretentious, yet with utter respect, no show, no ego, no audience, no compliments, no stars, no pressure to be anything other than what we are; a simple group of people doing our best. the individual does not exist. everything is done together, and is anonymous. no star performers, no applause.

 it is as if we are "keeping space". that if i play the gamelon, then that is what i can bring to god. and if someone else dances, that is what he can bring. but it is all done in groups. everyones' gratitude or intentions are personal and modest. and shown by random moments of clasped palms at the third eye chakra and closed eyes, during the short ceremony the priests do when devotees arrive and place their box of offering on the mantle so that the "essence" of the fruits and foods, can be eaten by god and then the blessed offerings are taken back home for us humans to ingest the contents on the physical level, aware of the fact that it is not just "an apple" now, but a "blessed apple" that we eat in gratitude and awareness.

no one knew when we would be returning home, the time changed from moment to moment, and it also didn't seem to matter to anyone. the fact that all we did was sit there for a few hours, next to each other, talking about nothing in particular, or eating food that was offered to us, out of hospitality, not out of hunger, seemed perfectly fine. nothing was happening, people would pass by in two's bringing more woven leaves or baskets with different foods needed for the symbolic offering that the priests would do at some point. i could tell that many of the people were looking at me, dressed in the gamelon outfit of white blouse, yellow sash tied on the red sarong, with a gold flower piece hanging on the right side of the big black bun that each of us had connected to our own black hair...again...anonymous...all looking like the ideal balinese woman. 

what was interesting was that at one point i was sitting a bit apart from the others, and a balinese woman came and sat down next to me. and after a while, out of the blue she asked me if i like rice, in english. and i said "uh, yes." and after a while i asked her if she knows english and when she said no, we just continued to sit next to each other. every now and then i said something to her in indonesian and she answered me in english. i realized that sitting next to someone who is sitting alone, is what is important...not whether we speak or not. i realized that that was why the old woman had come and sat next to me when i went into the city a month before on public transportation, and even though no one else was in the van, she cuddled up next to me on the same seat. being together is desirable. this is a country of always trying to find a way to make the other person feel at ease, happy. that is how they feel pleasure, by pleasing someone else.

at one point i wondered why i only see men at the temple, and i noticed some steps towards the back leading to some women. when i walked into that courtyard i found groups of women sitting together on the ground making different items for more offerings. lots of giggles, and they immediately made me feel at home, showed me how to fold the palm leaf to make the little boat shape that would be filled with dry rice, and were busy asking me questions in indonesian that i couldn't understand and laughing and smiling and leaning on me and each other. and then suddenly instead of leaving at 4, as planned, we were leaving now, 3 hours earlier...oh well...

when we walked up the long path to the van i turned back to have a look at where we had been. i was surprised to see the black coconut hair layered peaked roofs of the temple rising above the black cement carved wall surrounding the temple grounds on the top of a mountain. we had been dropped off near the temple, so i never had a view of it from afar.  it looked like a fairy tale, and again reminded me of the childrens' book i had bought...and i am in it. 

by the time we got back to our village and i walked home, all i wanted to do was to get the hair piece off of my head, take off the girdle and long sleeve tight blouse, and just be me. that is what panda discovered too...that he didn't need to know whether he was a white bear with black spots, or a black bear with white spots, he could just play his music and just be him, without having to define who he is. 

p.s. it is now the following day...the internet didn't work so i couldn't put this on line. meanwhile, i found out, "by chance" that today and tomorrow are the big ceremonies at the temple, and that yesterday was the day without people or anything...so that's why there were not people or anything! and so the desire arose again, to go and be part of it all today too. as i toyed with the idea, i suddenly met the head priest who is my neighbor and he said he would be taking a motorbike back in a few minutes...i said i would think about it. 

when i got home i waited to hear my inner answer, whether this is insane or sane....i started to organize clothes, money, flashlight, etc, and then just before dashing to bathe myself i realized that this has way too much desire in it and i am not going to go. so, just calmed down, and enjoyed the quiet day i had planned. then a 1/2 hour later the priest beeped his motorbike in front of my house, all smiles saying "let's go!" i started to tell him it is crazy (in sign language, since he doesn't know english) and meanwhile he was telling me how he will wait and i should definitely come in order to pray there...so...i figured, i guess i'm supposed to say yes to life. i told him to wait 5 minutes, got everything organized. we zoomed off on his motorbike...it reminded me of "hell's angels" for some reason...i guess i was never with a young man on the back of his motorbike zooming up the mountainside! he was an excellent driver, had a powerful motorbike and the same ride that i had done the day before in the old van with no windows open, was now done on the back of his bike, rejoicing in the magnificent nature and views the whole way.

when we arrived the place was crowded with thousands of villagers, dancers, musicians, offerings, men women children, all ages. i spotted a place i could sit down and it turned out i was next to a very kind and friendly young man that spoke excellent english and is a tour guide from my village and he proceeded to explain everything. i had just missed the 10 different dancing performances but was just in time for the "circle procession" which all of the musicians, dancers, priests and villagers with offerings and flags (hundreds of people) going around the temple. the next couple of hours was filled with just the colorful and lively yet simple atmosphere that was not there the day before. 

when we all finished praying and being blessed by the priests most of the villagers started to head home, and again, i wondered whether to just sleep somewhere, somehow, and maybe experience other special performances, or to find a ride home with someone. again, another angel appeared, the uncle of my friend, who assisted me and explained things and eventually i chose to have a good nights sleep at home in my bed, and was helped by another angel that found me some space in a pick up truck full of 16 people going back to my village. another funny experience that i may blog about...but grateful to be back.