I opened up my eyes and saw the sun shining through the big leaves of the tall tropical trees. the sound of the rushing water of the stream along with the background hum of crickets, replacing the hum of trucks and cars, stirred my heart. i felt the beginning of a warm familiar glow inside that had not been experienced for months. "You're almost home" said the voice.
I raised myself up from the wooden bench I had fallen asleep on and noticed the little old bow legged woman gardener from the botanical garden was sitting on the other bench beside me just where she had been two hours earlier when i found this particular resting place amongst busy fancy Singapore. I knew something had changed from 2 hours ago, but was looking for evidence. the clues began to add up; the simple handmade rake from bamboo, worn and useful. the thin strips of palm sticks beautifully tied like a bouquet opening up at the end of the wooden handle of the broom to sweep the leaves from the path. "I'm almost home." I looked around me, remembering now the tall tall trees, the big palm leaves, the myriad shades of green, lushness, the tropics, a nice breeze, bits of sun shining through the quiet shade of the forest. I had forgotten it all.
I remember watching how layer after layer had disappeared from my consciousness when i left Bali 4 months ago. It was like transparent veils that silently came over me, as the modern western world and society became my new surroundings. There was no stopping it, just observing parts of me thai i was no longer in touch with. i could not fight it. i didn't even know what to fight. it just slowly disappeared leaving me feeling like i lost something precious i had been given, but i don't even know what it looked like anymore, and what exactly it was. just that it wasn't.
my mind quickly started to put the puzzle pieces together; "Hey, look, this scenery is typically Israeli." i consciously looked out the window of the bus to see what had excited the young man sitting next to me as we drove towards Amman; old olive trees scattered on rocky dry stone terraces. a biblical look to it. Yes, it looked ancient and poetic. i could appreciate the resemblance to the drive towards jerusalem, but did not feel a tingle inside like he did. it was hard, barren, hot, sparse, empty, vulnerable, nature. i had been telling him about the sea and the laughing friendly simple people of northern bali. just barely remembering it all.
the energy in Abu Dahbi was still "middle eastern". in Bangkok things began to feel "lighter" with the men who looked more like women in their skin tight 3/4 length pants, made up faces, purses and feminine body language and giggle as they photographed themselves posing with their friends as if all of life was one big theater show. the abundance of huge orchid bouquets that decorated the airport brought a delicateness that is less apparent in the middle east. as i write this, i remember reading an e-mail yesterday from carol about how the lone straggly orchid that i gave her a year ago when i gave away my possessions, had bloomed the day i arrived to house sit by her in February. I had left Bali for 4 months and its last magnificent flower fell off its unbelievable abundantly budded branches the day i left to return to Bali.
As i landed in Singapore i could feel a slight change come over me. I attributed it to my imagination and wishful thinking. but then, as i stood at the "left baggage" counter this morning and a mother and daughter ahead of me conversed with the worker, my ears suddenly heard the melodious mumble jumble Indondesian that i had studied for months and had even known how to speak, but had also been covered in a veil of amnesia. i was surprised to hear it here in singapore, but happy to recognize the familiar words and an inexplicalbe ability to understand them in some abstract way making me feel a part of the conversation even though i couldn't tell you why.
later in the underground train fo the city, the daughter struck up a conversation with me in english and her mother just giggled each time her daughter translated to her our conversation. They were from jakarta, moslems, and with that open, friendly air of the Balinese, or maybe Indonesians?
The last puzzle piece was the creative juices that suddenly began to flow agin after an absence of months. poetic descriptions and sensuality began to tumble around in my mind and mouth. my hand needed to put it all down and share it with friends and family. this same life force that had been hidden like the "mists of Avalon" were suddenly appearing again as i got closer to returning to Bali. Nice.
i am grateful. i missed that part of me, but this nature is awakening my heart again and giving water to my senses that heal from this tropical atmosphere, mosquitos and all.
people ask me what i "do" all day in Bali...this is it....just sit and witness the magic and let it flow out in words as I am filled to overflowing and want to share it with whoever has room in their cup to read it....
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