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. 

the source

it has taken a bit of getting used to abundant flowing water all the time; watering paths, cement walls, stones, watering the street, watering the gardens with an abundance of water, hoses left on laying on sidewalks, an open air bath house that has water flowing 24 hours a day, kids playing with the hose for hours and just watering mud, water pipes broken and water just flowing in gutters, washing the cow, and the pigs..in short, lots of water and inexpensive too. water floods the orchards by means of narrow dirt canals that connect everybodys land and you can sign up for irrigation once every nine days and pay $1 for an abundant stream of water for an hour at night.

so living near the sea, along with this abundant water flowing and being used so freely is very refreshing! things just kind of flow...and are fresh and alive. as if everything is breathing and thirsty (sidewalks, streets...) and are given water to drink, to clean them, purify, cool them off, refresh...and two times a day i bless the drinking water and the water from the faucet, leaving a small offering and blessing of gratitude for the miracle of it all (along with the other elements of earth, fire, air, metal...) and several times a day i shower pouring lots of cold water on myself and feeling renewed before making the offerings.

the first time i heard the communal irrigation system working was the night i arrived and i was sleeping outdoors and suddenly heard such a woosh of water that i thought the main pipe must have broke and i went running into the garden in the dark to try and find someone that could help me stop the flood of water, only to find the neighbor there, arranging the rocks and palm tree stumps in order to irrigate certain areas and close off other parts of his land. yesterday my friend warned me that if i hear tons of water rushing by my window, i should know that his brother will be watering the forest at 11 at night, and not to panic. i asked him what the source of all this water is ? 

he said that lake batur is in the mountain above the village and that there is a small hole in the basin of the lake from over 1,000 years ago that enables a constant flow of water for the entire village. the hole has never gotten larger than it originally was, and the lake is always full of the rainwater from the mountains that flow into it. the villages next to ours are not so lucky to have a major waterway of nature to allow the villagers to water their trees and make earn a living, from this free flowing water. it is considered a very special blessing for the village and once a year all of the thirty some priests go to the temple by the lake, and stay there for one week, out of respect, devotion and gratitude for this miracle of abundant flowing water. it is a vow they made many years ago to never take it for granted that the village can enjoy such abundant water. during this week they will be praying and performing ceremonies accompanied by music and dance by the villagers.

suddenly it all made sense. i knew that in a few days i along with all 35 women from my gamelon orchestra are traveling to a temple in a village 90 minutes away in order to perform. i wondered why another village so far would invite us to come. and now i understood that we are part of the many performers/devotees that will be playing temple music as part of the weeks intentions. i was so honored and grateful, since i feel so inept at thanking god enough for all of this wonderful water.  we will be going to the source to give gratitude.

visions

18 years ago i ended a 4 year period of therapy. lots of painful memories came to the surface and it was not an easy time in life, but important. the "period" at the end of the sentence was doing a long weekend biography workshop which helped me appreciate and understand the importance of everything i went through, and to see it all in a positive and necessary light for my destiny in life. the six participants were guided to close our eyes and listen to any message we were to receive. mine surprised me! i saw myself from behind, dressed in white and walking towards a brilliant white light. everything was bathed in this light, and i knew that all was good. it was a strange image...kind of like seeing heaven, and i had no idea where it came from or what it meant but felt reassured that in the end it will be magnificent, and i knew it was mine for life. afterwards i never gave it much thought, other than gratitude for having experienced it.

when i decided to come to bali 2 years ago i looked for a place by the sea where i could watch the sunrise. i have no idea where that need came from, but it was top priority. and so when i found my little village here on the north eastern shore, it was only natural that i woke up each morning for the past almost 2 years, and watched the sunrise. it was like the nourishment my body, mind and soul needed each morning

so i sit there from 5:30 until 7:00, watching the sky and sea change colors, the dark silhouettes of the fishing boats going out to sea, the overhanging leaves and branches framing the misty distant curving shoreline adding to the drama of seeing the peak of the far off mountain on the island of Lombok. by the time i finish journalling and doing my tai chi and qigong on the sand, or stones (depending on the tide) the sun is shining brightly. it kind of dances like sparkly stars on the water. and sometimes i feel like a 5 year old just looking at it and not comprehending that it is a reflection and just make believe it really is lots of little sparkly stars that are jumping on the sea.

this morning when i opened my eyes at the end of the qigong series the sun was already higher in the sky than usual and instead of little stars on the water, a carpet of bright white light flooded the sea. it looked so familiar, and i just stood there, in gratitude for such a magnificent sight. and then suddenly realized that i was standing in my vision of 18 years ago! this is exactly what i had seen, not realizing it was the morning suns' reflection on the sea. i was touched and in awe that there is some greater plan going on that i have no idea about...i just show up and do what i am supposed to be doing...and find myself in my intuitive visions of years ago. 

the same thing happened when i "saw" myself sitting at a potters' wheel, even though i had never seen one before...and a year later, i was a potter, sitting at the wheel. there is still one more vision that i received back then...and i await to witness its' realization too one day!

teacher

i thought that i can offer my time and talents to the mountain school once a week, rather than making a monetary donation, so i called up dirga and asked if i could again join him on saturday morning at school. "sure". and off we went up the mountain again, and i tried to imagine how these little kids walk this 6 days a week, during the 4 months of monsoon,  when we arrived at the path to the school a pick up truck was parked on the path with some men who were trying to convince a cow to climb into the truck. it was touching to be greeted by the young boys suddenly standing erect and blessing us as we entered the school grounds. they were sincere. 

dirga turned to me as we walked into the school asking me what i would like to teach today? i was surprised because i didn't know i would be teaching, but thought it might be an option, i suggested qigong and an english song (that had suddenly come to my mind during meditation that morning). he said fine, and we peeked into a few classrooms until he found one without a teacher, and figured that that is where we will be. the kids were 10 year olds, and in the 4th grade, all sitting happily and quietly in pairs in rows of tables. he asked them in indonesian if they would like me to teach them today. an enthusiastic chorus of a loud yes resounded from all of them. with a reception like that, i already felt comfortable and at ease with them even though we had never met before. 

he told me he would stay to translate, but in the end he left after a while since my indonesian and sign language was enough to make myself understood. since i started doing qigong a year ago, i have seen the dramatic positive effects of it on my health and am happy to share it with whoever wants to feel healthy and connected with their body and a universal energy source. so it was only natural for me that we should all begin with 10-15 minutes of fun qigong exercises, that hopefully will become a daily routine for them, and can aid in developing a healthy lifestyle. they were great. all happy to be going along with the exercises.

when we finished i invited them all to continue standing and make a big circle. it just seemed the thing to do...no frontal sitting at desks for these energetic spirited kids! i then broke into "head shoulders knees and toes, knees and toes" with accompanying body movements...and the loud voices of 30 happy children joined me. i had no idea whether they knew the song or not, i just thought we would have fun, standing up, moving our bodies, singing, and speaking english. earlier in the week when i had consulted with a friend who has taught english as a second language in elementary schools, what she suggests, her answer was "follow your heart"...so my heart said "do it", so i did. and she was right, if i was enthusiastic and happy, they were too. 

they tried to teach me the same song with the indonesian words!  total failure! we all laughed as i tried to imitate 30 kids all yelling out the word in indonesian, and then trying to remember it a minute later. children from the other classrooms were filling up the open doorways and chiming in with us as we sang faster and faster. and then suddenly dirga came back in and motioned that i have to finish in 5 minutes! so i instantly decided to have groups of 6 sing together in front of the rest of the class, and ended up laughing as the groups of 6 quickly organized, but everyone sang along with them, happily. no stage fright for anyone here. 

suddenly a teacher brought in a big bag of folded paper triangular packets filled with a hot chicken and rice carry out lunch for each of them. dirga had them passing them to each of the children. some smelled the packets, some quietly placed them on the table in front of them. once they had all said a communal prayer they picked up their packets and went to sit outside together for their lunch break, one sweet boy stayed in the room. i asked dirga why. he thought the child might be allergic to the food, so he went over to talk with him, the boy politely placed the folded triangle on the table and sweetly explained that in his village they are not allowed to eat meat for 10 days prior to the big ceremony they will be celebrating, so he would not be eating this food today. it was so touching seeing him simply accept his conditions. i wondered what he would do with the food packet later?  maybe feed it to their pig? 

next dirga explained that we would be leaving soon since school was ending early today because the teachers were going to a wedding. oh! it made me laugh. now i understood why the beautiful balinese teacher in the other classroom was wearing white high heel shoes and a beige mini skirt and looked like Miss World Beauty Pageant. she was going to a wedding after teaching the 6th graders how to crochet with the tiniest crochet hook i ever saw, and balls of thin yarn....poor children! i assumed it had been donated by some good soul, but wondered if this was really a skill suitable for young children.

 as i waited for dirga to pick me up to leave, i could hear students from other classes that were on their break, singing loudly the song i had just taught! i looked around at the simple old classroom, which resembled the way my elementary school looked 50 years ago in america. a few colored pencil drawings had been tacked on a bulletin board drawn. my mind filled with ideas of how to open up their creativity with water colors, colorful crayons, drawing mandalas, origami, big pieces of drawing paper, brushes, paints...i tried to figure out how i could get donations from people or companies in israel to contribute supplies for these poor children that barely have food and clothing let alone arts and crafts supplies! my mind raced to the waldorf elementary schools and i wondered whether i could blend the two worlds? 

then dirga called me to join him on the motorbike ride back down the steep dirt road, which for some reason was no longer smooth, and made it even more difficult to walk and drive on. how would they manage next month once the monsoons began?  such poverty, and together with that, such happiness and enthusiasm. i asked dirga if the children knew the song i taught? "yes, we sing it also in indonesian, and yes, i taught it to them in the past." i laughed. what difference did it make? we had so much fun...the whole school had fun joining in the loud singing and laughter. teacher...   

broomaking

the first attraction i had with brooms was when i was 17 years old and came to israel for the first time. i walked the streets of old tel aviv and saw an old man with torn clothes, holding a broom. i took his photo, in black and white. i loved it. it just felt so timeless. then when i went to japan at the age of 49, i found myself again, photographing brooms. each time we went into a temple or garden it would be brooms or the people sweeping with brooms that caught my attention. the way the brooms were left, artistically leaning against a wall, their primitive quality, and the humble people sweeping with them. again the subject of many photos. then in thailand a few years ago, when i went to visit a potter at his studio, he had all his staff out early in the morning, sweeping. i asked him why? he said that they do not know how to meditate, so this is how he allows them that same type of inner experience...a half hour of sweeping the earth, the leaves, in their own rhythm in silence, before starting to make pots. when i flew to singapore on my way to bali, it again was the early street sweepers that caught my attention, or as i rested in the botanical garden, it was the simple men and women sweeping the grounds, the walkways and their brooms, that i was fascinated with. and then bali, where every morning and evening everyone is out sweeping! but here they are not so busy sweeping litter as they are purifying the earth so no demons or evil spirits will be lurking around the grounds...but yes also the leaves, the plastic, the pebbles...and a kind of meditation.

the first time i visited the family compound where i am now living, my eyes spotted brooms...beautiful hand made brooms in varying shades of yellow, green and brown from the palm leaf stems, all lined up against the wall, waiting for the young woman who sells them, to come pick them up. another photo...so peaceful and natural and humble. brooms. they laughed at me taking a photo of the brooms! what could i possibly be attracted by? 

once i moved in here at the beginning of october, i asked my friend to ask his mother if she would let me help her make the brooms. "yes". nice! but his mother doesn't speak english, and she was too shy to invite me to make them with her...."the tourist" working! no...so it took a while until i caught her in action and discovered when she actually makes the brooms. with a bit of sign language she motioned for me to sit on the little stool with my knife, handed me a handful of palm leaf stems, period. so i watched her. hmm...a beautiful flowing swift movement of the knife removing thin long shreds of the stem making it look young and supple. i can do that!

after observing how she held the knife and which fingers did what, i tried. and tried. and tried. instead of swift flowing movements with long thin shreds of fine stem in a pile in front of me, i was either moving the knife in vain without any shreds, or shredding the stem so that there was nothing much left to make a broom from. she didn't say a word, after an hour she motioned that we stop. "thank you" "thank you!"  the next couple of days did not bring much improvement still unsure what i was even trying to do, what was being shaved off, and why? but i just kept that vision of her flowing movement in my mind and knew that is what i wanted to get to one day.

a few days later i saw her sitting on a coconut on the ground, near the lovely cow, with her machete knife and the huge palm leaf, cutting off all the thin leaves into a pile. i asked if i could help. yes. and so i joined her with my knife. now we were slicing away the leaf from the stems. aha! so this was step one: first have a fresh palm leaf, then cut off the stems and afterwards is step two, which i had done already; "fine tuning" of going over each stem and removing any excess dry leaf so that a nice smooth elegant stem would be left which when placed together with a handful of other ones and tied tightly with a piece of plastic near one end, and given a little twist, was now a strong broom used to "sweep" the mattress after waking up (from all the demons and spirits!...and dirty feet) or for sweeping the earth or leaves from the earth. 

this part was pretty easy. i found myself flowing with the knife and stem, almost as well as she was. i felt satisfaction and enjoyment, and the previous frustration and force were forgotten. there was hope. i could just do this part of the broom making! we sat underneath the tall trees, near the cow and the pig, the chickens and chicks wandering by moving the leaves around looking for food. the quiet of the forest, the sounds of the animals. the nice warm weather and slight breeze. soon our pile of stems was ready for the next step, and all the shaven leaves were fed to the cow. she walked over to a banana tree, pulled off a bit of the trunk and used it like a piece of rope to tie up the bundle. again "thank you". "thank you!"

trying to find her at work was tricky, because each time she would do it when the mood suited her, among all her other tasks on the farm. but somehow as i would walk over to give the pig my vegetable shavings from the day, i would spot her and ask if i can join her. "yes". i had read a sat sang principle that said "do your best without any expectations". that seemed like a good intention to have while shaving the stems instead of all the criticism and comparing and disappointment that i, a talented, capable woman of experience, cannot shave off the stem in a swift flowing movement like her. 

with the intention, there was improvement. also, since i had now experienced step one, i understood what i was shaving off, so it made more sense. it was no longer just a random moving of the knife along the stem, but rather the place where the stem and leaf were connected was what was being shaved smooth. got it! even though i knew there was no importance to speed, or quantity, i still wanted to help her out so that she could earn more money, or finish the work faster. whatever. a goal. a purpose. 

i was beginning to feel a bit more confidence.  and enjoying the peace and flow. but still there were all those tips of the stems that by me kept snagging on the knife and then breaking off, and by her were long and thin. how? how does she do it? the next time i found her  i motioned that i will go get my knife and she motioned that i just use hers' and she will get another one. okay. ahhhhhhhh....heaven! it's all in the knife! what a nice knife! this has nothing to do with experience! it all has to do with the tool of the craftsman! i remembered how when studying japancse calligraphy my girlfriends brush was ruined and the master teacher gave her his brush to use. and when she began to use it the calligraphy flowed out, as the brush was filled with his energy and presence. that is how it felt with her knife in my hands. i laughed and she did too. my pile of long stems was growing bigger, and my peace of mind with my "no expectation" intention, and her knife in my hands was bringing true joy to the craft.

the following day i came with my knife and as i sat down to begin, she tilted her head and looked at me, then offered me her knife, taking mine for herself. i was so touched. so kind of her. as the flow began to flow and my mind was more peaceful i wondered if the woman who collected the brooms would notice the difference in quality now that i had joined in the production. if her customers would ask why the brooms are not as smooth, or as long as they used to be? or if these stems are being sold to craftsmen making baskets with them, if they will complain that the stems are not as they should be, and they are too short. i tried to let go of doubt and worry. she had not even glanced at my stems as we sat there for an hour each time. if it was important, she would have said so, no?

one day, after we had worked for an hour and there was still a large pile of stems to be shaved near her, she asked me if i don't need to be going to the beach now. i was surprised by her question. she usually didn't speak, and why was she worried about me and the beach. i told her that i will go later, and she said, "no, now, enough". since i am the guest, i obeyed orders, but wondered if i had just been fired? was this her way of telling me that my work was not up to par? i later asked her daughter in law if this was the balinese way to avoid shaming me but to get me to stop interfering with her craft? my friend just laughed and said that she is just worried that i work too much and that i should enjoy myself at the beach, and she is shy and doesn't know how to tell me that i have worked enough. i laughed and was relieved. still employed!

 i had also shared with my friends the story about using her knife and how different it was and how i am aiming at that beautiful flowing movement that she does with each stem. he thought a moment and then said that he thinks that it is possible with any knife. and that the flowing movement is one of lightness and ease. that the slight shaving of the place where the leaf was attached to the stem is not something that is so hard that it demands a strong knife. it just needs the right angle of the knife and an intention of gentleness. hmm...interesting. i decided to try it out the following day and to my surprise, he was right. what i had been using a contracted muscle of force on was now a light attentive dancing movement of my hand, and the results improved even more!

yesterday, as i spotted a large pile of freshly cut huge palm leaves by the cow i asked my friend to tell his mother that when she goes to work on them that i want to help. fine. we sat down later together, she and i, in the silence of the forest, enjoying the flow of work, and being in nature and touching the leaves and stems. having a purpose, making something beautiful from natural material. ah, how romantic! my friend soon joined us too, and instead of the usual silence, i now had someone to speak to in english, and i began to ask all the questions i have had about the broomaking. 

how long has your mother been doing this? "5 years".
how did she decide to make the brooms? "someone came to her and asked if she would prepare the materials for brooms and basketry with the stems and that they would come once a month and pay her for it".
how much do they pay her for a broom? "10 cents".
10 cents!!!!???????????!!!!!!!!! hours of work, and she makes 10 cents? "yes...she doesn't really do it for the money. this is a pleasant way to spend the time, the palm leaves are needed to feed the cow and the stems were just left, so now she can make use of the stems, and the cow is happy too! she doesn't have to bite off the leaf from the stems, someone took them off for her already! wouldn't you agree that this is a pleasant way for people to pass the time? you sit, don't work hard, enjoy the company and nature, and help people have brooms and stems to make baskets with. it is good to have a way to pass the time in life. no?"

and i was worried about the quality of the stems from the ones i had made.... but it is definitely good practice of the 9 principles of positive thought, mental peacefulness, humility, high self esteem, everything as whole and in a state of change, forgiveness of myself and the universe, humor and lightness, the witness, and doing the best i can without expectations....bring on the broom stems!

 

in the fire hut

i remember studying about hinduism and india in my 20's. i was fascinated by it all. i used to take notes about all the strange manners of the lifestyle, so exotic, so different than what i knew. i was so curious about the origins of these behaviors...what did it all mean? how did it fit together to make one "whole"? and now here i am, living in the stories i read 40 years ago! so the small fire hut on the family compound where the female head of the family makes a fire each morning in the hand built earthen stove that her husband built for their marriage years ago, is where my cooking lessons take place each morning. 

i had passed by the small dark hut many times, but either the old wooden door had a nail hanging on a string "locking" it, or no one was inside when the door was open. but one day i came at 7:30 a.m. and there she was, sitting on the low mantle, with her stone mortar and pestle grinding the chilies, and i asked if i may enter, she nodded. and that is how the cooking lessons began. i would stand there in the dark, with just a bit of sunlight streaming through the slits of the bamboo wall, and watch her fry the fish, steam the rice, prepare the spices, and make some soup and vegetable for her, her husband, and their 43 year old son that works on the farm with them. 

it is an honor and a pleasure to watch her work. she is a very down to earth, simple, hard working woman. she uses her knife well, she works efficiently and ecologically. the black sooty rags, pots, and  counter are only a testament to years of cooking with fire, and not to cleanliness, since she always washes everything before using it. fresh water is in a big earthen pot in the corner, where the little faucet fills it daily. a large green handled plastic cup is used to dip into the earthen pot and add water to the pot for soup, or to rinse the mungbean sprouts, or to fill up the pot that is steaming the rice. on the countertop/mantle is a plastic bowl for all of the dishes being used that will need to be washed later outside the door while sitting on the floor with some liquid detergent that drains off the leftovers to the pig. another plastic bucket is on the floor where anything that can enrich the taste of the food the pigs get, is poured into it; cooking water, coconut water, rinsing off the grinding stone from the sambal, and another plastic bowl with some water where each utensil is casually dipped in to rinse off, and also for rinsing her hand from salt or other foods. 

all work is done with only her right hand actually touching the food. the left hand is used just to hold the garlic as she cuts it, or to pull the stems off the chilies, etc. (since that is the hand that is used to wipe themselves in the toilet so it is not used for food or receiving things). even when she wants to check how the taste of the soup is she will take the ladle in her right hand, then switch it to her left hand in order to touch the soup with a finger and placed on her tongue to see if it is good. there is no tasting going on, since food is only eaten after it has been offered first to god. so no noshing here. she uses her sense of smell in order to check if something is properly spiced! the cats and dog also use their sense of smell and come wandering into the hut every now and then to see what has been thrown on the dirt floor for them to lick up (brook, the dog, loves the fish bones and scares the cats away in order to get first choice at them).

the grinding stone is where all of the spices meet in order to be mashed together depending on what she is making; small spicey red, green or yellow chilies, garlic, shallots, ginger, salt, shrimp paste, white peppercorns, lemongrass root, msg, and some other roots that i do not know the names of. there is usually some leaf, vegetable, chicken, fruit, fresh grated coconut, banana leaf for roasting or steaming foods, or spice from the garden that is needed for the meal. the rest of the ingredients (fresh fish and vegetables) are brought daily by her son in the morning market according to her request,,,each day a small plastic bag that has just enough for that day. since there is no storage space, other than some hanging plastic bags with spices in them, and no refrigerator, and only fresh food is used, there is no need to buy more than for today. by my standards, the amount of food he buys is less than for one western person eating one meal!

during the 2 weeks that i sat and watched nyoman preparing the food for the day i learnt a variety of balinese dishes. their traditional food is based on a big pot of steamed white rice, without any salt or spices in it, and is accompanied by small dessert sized bowls with several kinds of fried fish, sambal, fried onions with coarse salt, a little pot of water based vegetable soup, and some cooked vegetable, ALL very spicey. this is all put in a separate small room, that is part of the house, unlike the fire hut which is separate, and sits there from morning till night. whenever someone is hungry, he goes to the small room, which is also locked so the cats and dogs won't get to the food that sits out, takes a plate, a large portion of rice, and a tablespoon or so from the little dishes, sits down alone somewhere outside or crouching in a corner inside this room, and with his right hand, mashes together a bit of the room temperature, spicey food with a large portion of the rice, and flicks this ball of food into his mouth, without touching fingers to mouth. after they eat, they rinse their plate outside at the little faucet. end of meal.

since nyoman is not a talkative woman in any case, and also does not know any english, we usually would spend this 1/2 hour cooking lesson in silence. i would just try and stay out of her way in this tiny fire hut, and she would elegantly flow with me as an obstruction in the middle of the kitchen without concern. after a few times of standing and watching her, she placed an old metal folding chair in the space between the low countertop and the stove, for me to sit and watch her as she ground the herbs with the stone, or fed the fire with the coconut shells, stems, branches, thus controlling the fire as only one with years of experience could do so conscienciously. it was only when her youngest daughter in law was in the kitchen on sunday morning instead of nyoman, that i realized that it isn't so easy. 

dewi married the youngest son, number five, 7 years ago, so she is the one that needed to spend a month after the marriage, on that same metal folding chair every morning, learning how to cook just like her mother in law. even though she lives in a city in an apartment with gas burners in the kitchen, she still needs to know how to cook with firewood, and to be able to help her mother in law, and to be able to feed her husband food just like mama makes. i asked permission to watch her preparing the food yesterday. she agreed, but i don't know whether she was nervous, or just inexperienced, but what seemed so simple and efficient with nyoman, was quite involved for dewi, just getting the wok to sit level on the top burner was a challenge, and the flames flying out of the fire and igniting the straw rice strainer that was steaming the rice, and the frying oil splattering, and the simple gliding movement of removing the fried food from the wok right into the small dessert bowl, were all cumbersome and demanded effort, as did keeping the fire going properly. it was only then that i realized how nyoman is such a no-nonsense woman, everything is in moderation, top quality, done efficiently, quietly and perfectly cooked. 

whatever food is left over from the day before is refried for a few minutes, and may have some new spices added to it for variety. it is only at the end of each cooking class when i return to my own modern kitchen in my house further on at the compound, that i see all the mess i make, and clatter of dishes, and things that fall as i move them from the cutting board to the wok, and i can appreciate the peaceful presence that nyoman emits. she always fills a little doll size pot with some of the soup and fish that she has made for them, so that i can taste what she has cooked. in the beginning when i declined, because it was chicken and i am vegetarian, i saw how her face fell in disappointment and confusion. the last thing i wanted to do was offend her. after that she always made a point of including something that did not have meat in it, so that i could also eat the food she made. and when i was done cooking my meals by me,, i always brought her the same little doll size pot, filled with my own improvisations, that were without frying, and left still colorful and crunchy with life, instead of the grey/brown colored foods that make up the usual balinese meal. fresh cut up vegetables or salad, is not part of their culture. nor are desserts. what typifies their way of eating, in my opinion, is what typifies the balinese in general; a spicy lightness of being. they live outdoors, are usually quite thin, the weather is warm, and they are poor as far as having money or owning possessions. so food is just something from your surroundings to nourish the body for a few hours, and then you eat again. it is not entertainment, it is not a social event, it is not costly, and it is of no ones concern what you are eating and when. i spend at most $1 a day on food...and am having fun learning how to cook like the balinese. and love those red hot chili peppers!

"...and you were happy on your holidays"

the usual synchronicity...i walked to the neighboring resort to see if a friend had arrived, and while i was walking to her room, the manager saw me and invited me to come at 5 a.m. the following morning to participate in an activity they were having. i couldn't quite catch the name, but figured, why not? my friend was not there, and so i returned home, laughing to myself how i didn't find her, but instead found a pre-dawn activity, nice! so it meant waking up at 3:45 to go shopping for food at the marketplace, and then get back to her by 5 and then sunrise at the sea, and then the rest of the day unfolding.

i arrived with a flash light in the pitch dark, and found a few balinese people dressed in white, arranging a small fire pit and flowers. i thought it was going to be a talk about eco culture, or something, so this surprised me. i said hello to the balinese manager that was arranging flower offerings for the guests, and took off my flip flops like one does on the temple grounds in order to sit on them. she suggested i put them "outside the circle" and i suddenly looked down and realized i was standing on a beautiful flower mandala that they had made! i apologized, moved them to the other side of the black stones that created the frame for the mandala, and sat down. a few other foreigners arrived, and it began. 

one young balinese man with the longest most delicate fingers i had ever seen, would be acting as "the priest" as he blessed the bell he was ringing and the fire and all of us. then the 5 balinese began to sing hindu mantras. the  western yoga teacher that had done an evening of mantra singing a few nights previously, knew them all and joined in, as did a few of the guests. i assumed it was what is sung in ashrams in india, since most of the foreigners had spent time there too, and were swaying to the singing, even though the balinese sang while in a meditative pose. 

i wasn't quite sure what i was doing there. i had never heard balinese singing mantras and wondered how i would feel here if this indeed was the way they prayed...if i would connect to it more, less, learn all the words of the gods, want to sway like the foreigners that are in bliss, or would copy the balinese that seemed more intent on bringing pleasure to god and not to themselves....and do i even connect to any of this? and is this just a show for foreigners? and meanwhile i kept peeking to see if the sun was rising yet since i didn't want to miss that either. 

at one point we were invited to toss our flower petal offerings into the fire as a sacrifice. so i grabbed my handful and tossed them in...only moments later realizing that it was a song that repeated a chorus at which point a few petals were tossed in each time. oops...sorry guys...didn't know...so i just sat there watching the others gracefully offering the petals to the fire each time. next we were invited to put our letters in the fire. what letters? so i quickly wrote a letter to god with my sincere intention and when gestured by one of the men in white, i clumsily got up and flung it into the fire, feeling like an elephant in a china shop! the priest was ringing the bell and singing and making all of his gestures in such humbleness and simplicity, compared to me. how do they do it? 

by now the sun had risen, and the songs were taking on a more festive tone. hand clapping was added and the mantras were with a caller and then the rest of us repeating what he just sang. they were also speeding up. and suddenly the melody was familiar! i just laughed inside at how god was having fun with me, since it was the song "an you were happy on your holidays" (v'samachtah b'hagecha) which is sung on simchat torah which had just been celebrated the day before in israel!. so they sang the names of the gods, and i sang in hebrew, and as the hand clapping got faster and faster the next melody resembled the song sung on passover "one kid" (chad gadyah)....

just before it ended the manager announced that we would now be ending the agni hotri ceremony. what?! this was the famous agni hotri ceremony that i have been reading about for years and always wanted to participate in but it was too far away and too expensive?! "right here in rivercity!"  i laughed inwardly how suddenly everything took on a holier and more profound quality now that it had a name and was something special! it wasn't just some balinese singing mantras at sunrise and blessing us, as usual at all ceremonies...

when it was over, and the sun had risen some of the participants, all dressed in temple clothes (oops, apologized again...) wanted their photos taken with the 5 balinese priests that had led it. i volunteered to take their photo, and as i stood up and took a few steps backwards to frame the photo, i couldn't figure out why my sarong looked so off center, only to suddenly realize, again (!) that it had come untied and was falling off of me while i was taking their photo. again, quickly grabbing the ends to tie them back on my waist i realized that we were sitting in an even bigger mandala than i had realized....and everyone was dressed in temple clothes, and their flip flops were outside the outer circle! mine being the only ones inside the mandala....oh well...maybe their finesse and delicacy will slowly rub off on me if i stay here long enough.  

i went over to thank the manager for her gracious invitation and to tell her how this had always been a dream of mine...and here it happened! she introduced me to the priest that had led so beautifully the singing, all acapella, and it turned out that they are from an ashram down in klung klung in the south of bali, where they perform this ritual every morning at 5, and at sunset. and if one of the tourists wants to "order" an agni hotri ritual, they come to the resort. it was nice to know that there are things like this going on here in bali, because until now the locals are very practical and laid back with prayer and are more involved with the ceremonial aspect of offerings.  and again i was reminded how much this religion has in common with my jewish roots! and i was happy on my holidays,

choice

the yoga teacher/ bhajan singer was explaining the words to the mantra we were going to sing together. he said that durga and kali are hindu goddesses of evil and destruction. together with that, they are still aspects of the same one loving God that is all and everything and that some people find it hard to comprehend the idea that a loving god can also be expressed in evil and destruction, and that Kali is always shown with a necklace of skulls around her neck symbolizing the cutting away of the intellect. i had always just thought they were pretty morbid looking paintings, but never thought about that connection to the intellect before. we were also singing mantras to shiva, which until now was also not my god of choice since he represented destruction in the trinity cycle of creator, preserver, destroyer. but twice a day as i place the offerings around the house and grounds and give my thanks for the elements, and my life and health, etc, i also thank these three aspects of God and try and connect. so when he explained that shiva was actually the most important aspect of the trinity, and was the Witness, it also surprised me and opened up a new understanding as shiva as a transformer, someone who allows change to occur. the hour and a half of singing simple repetitive songs along with 6 other people in a lovely hexagon shaped high ceiling room accompanied by gentle guitar playing was really nice...just a chance to open up the heart and sing, without any importance on ability or skill or talent...just singing songs to God together. 

what hadn't occurred to me when i walked over to the resort to meet my friend for the singing at dusk, was that i would need to walk home afterwards, in the dark. suddenly finding myself outside and walking through the dark lantern lit path in the resort towards my dirt path in the forest, i realized that this was not going to be too easy to accomplish. i could go back and ask someone for a flashlight, but i didn't want to bother them and have to return it the following day. i looked out at the black sea with the lantern lit fishing boats on the horizon and realized that tonight is a no moon night, and that's why they are out there with lanterns to catch chumi chumi fish. while i still had the small lanterns lighting the path in the resort i could continue to fool myself thinking that i will manage in the dark. but as soon as i passed the last lantern and it was really dark, i wondered how i was going to manage.

i had walked this path numerous times over the past 3 months, in the light of day. i knew there were swerves, ditches, little bridges, lots of dogs, and not many houses. i took small steps while i passed the narrow path with the temple on one side and the steep shoreline on the other, this was a temple built by a private person, not one of the balinese temples of hinduism, and there were those that said it had a feel of black magic to it. midway i suddenly turned around to see if anybody was behind me. no one. i realized that i can enter a fear mode now, thinking i am being followed or whatever. i chose not to continue that thought, and just looked ahead and took my next step forward.

i managed to pass the parked fishing boats on shore with some benefit still from the little lanterns way out at sea. i heard the rustling of leaves beneath my feet and suddenly knew that i had never heard that sound before, so i must not be on the path, but to the left of it, and sure enough, as soon as i took a step to the right i could hear the quiet sound of earth beneath my feet rather than dry leaves. okay, i will play it by ear!  but now i had to turn into the forest. pitch black. now what? what are my options? this is ridiculous. i am insane. who do i think i am that i can walk back some 7 minutes on this swerving inclined path without falling into a ditch or walking into a tree? i could just sit down here at the sea, and sleep, and in the morning walk home, or i could wait and maybe someone will pass by with a motorbike and i can ask for a ride. or i can slowly feel my way.

 i decided on the last option. and just as i turned into the forest and took 2 steps i felt something brush my right shoulder! i couldn't see what it was, but the thought came to my mind that the balinese believe in all kinds of spirits that come out at night, and that is why they prefer to stay inside at night. i have poo -pooed this, but lately started wondering if they simply can see things that i can't. again, images of the demons and monsters that they carve and draw on entrances to temples, schools, houses, crossed my mind. i chose not to think about them and came back to the task at hand. i continued to take slow steps and let my eyes try and get used to the dark and somehow be able to recognize a different shade of black on the path, compared to my surroundings.  

i could hear a motorbike in the distance and was relieved to see it coming in my direction. saved! it stopped at a curve right in front of me and the woman blessed me with the usual greeting of "have a safe evening!" yes, yes, and then i tried to suggest in indonesian that she turn around and take me to my house which is just a few minutes away, but i can't see how to get there. she laughed, not understanding a word i said, and again wished me a safe night, wondering why i would be walking in the dark, and drove off. i resigned myself to the fact that she was not my saviour and continued carefully walking up the little four step bridge without side railings, hoping i wouldn't miss and end up in the ditch, since there was no water flowing now.  i really didn't feel like spending the next month in bed healing injuries and needing people to help me. that thought crossed my mind after i had met 2 other single anglo saxon women here that had experienced just that scenario, one from a motorcycle accident and another from moving off the road when a car drove by and falling into a ditch. i saw that by thinking these imaginary future unpleasant scenarios, i am not bringing myself closer to walking safely home. and i have a choice. i can either continue the thought, feeding the fear, or i can stop thinking the thought and come back to just taking my next right step. 

the memory of the day before when i had gone on a motorbike with a young man to visit the school some 20 minutes away, without a helmet on came to me. i didn't know where we were going, and even though helmets are mandatory, in the village and for short distances, no one wears them. and the other times when i had gone on longer trips, whoever was driving, provided me with a helmet. in this case, my driver had a helmet, and i didn't. as we climbed up the mountain side the thought occurred to me that i could fall off and hurt myself and why am i endangering my life like this? and then the next thought that came was; "how about letting go of these imaginary accident scenarios that have not taken place and just remember to go buy a helmet and use it the next time you go on a motorbike." i opted to listen to that thought instead of dwelling on future accidents, and enjoyed the view the rest of the ride. i realized that now, while i walk through the dark forest, since the half moon has not risen yet, i can stay positive and in the present and just do what i can do, and ask god for help to get home safely, period. the dark patch of the path was over and now the small light from scattered houses along the rest of the path made it a little easier to decipher how to walk and soon i was home. grateful and busy with my next task at hand. 

this morning i walked down to the beach before dawn. while i journalled i remembered some thought provoking information a friend had sent me about nine buddhist principles; 

1-positive thought

2-mental peacefulness

3-deep and honest humility

4-extremely high self esteem

5= an equal view that sees everything as a wholeness, limitless and in a state of development and change

6-forgiveness of myself and the whole universe

7- humor and lightness

8- the gazing and neutral contemplating witness

9- doing the best that you can without expectations

 

i wondered if i could really implement them in my life. i had chosen the first two the night before while walking in the dark. yes, it worked...just staying positive and having mental peace and i arrived home safely. and also the ninth one, doing the best i can without expectations. while i did qigong on the beach and raised my head to the sky i suddenly saw the half moon overhead, and laughed how yep, the moon rose late and is out now! as i walked back home from the beach i suddenly viewed the path with different eyes. i saw how lucky i was to have walked it in the pitch dark! so many places where a step to the right or left would have found me flat on my face. i tried to see what it could have been that brushed my shoulder in the dark, a branch? but didn't see anything. it was then that the connection between what the bhajan singer had explained about Kali and what the buddhist  principles state. 

 

Yes, God has created it all, the horrific, the scarey, the destructive, all in order to allow me to choose. if there was no fear, i would not have to turn to god and ask for help, or guidance. but when it is all created by the same god, then i am given a choice in what i want to believe? do i want to be a slave to obsessive negative thoughts about the future or past, or do i want to choose to return to the present and witness it and ask for help and take the next right step together with a power greater than myself. and the witness just witnesses it all.

 

a mountain school

there is a yoga resort nearby that has adopted a nearby school in order to aid them, since 2006. on saturdays' one of their staff volunteers to teach some of the classes. so today i asked to join him. i had no idea where i was going, so i was pleasantly surprised when he picked me up and we went on his motorbike up the steep swerving mountainside for about 20 minutes, ending up in nowheres' land! we passed the cocoa plants, the mud brick houses, the palm trees for making liquor, and eventually came to a long winding steep path that ended up in a school yard where children suddenly stopped playing and stood erect and respectfully clasped their hands in prayer style and welcomed us by blessing us "om swastiyastu".

we stood next to the small altar at the entrance to the elementary schoolyard, which consisted of a long building on each side of the courtyard, where there were 3 classrooms. the atmosphere was casual, kids in class, out of class, teachers, inside, outside, doors, open, closed, some kids in uniforms, some not...and when we crossed the courtyard and went down some steps to another wing of the school, we suddenly walked into a classroom of 28 sweet 1st graders that were sitting quietly at their desks, awaiting their teacher, dirga, that had brought me with him.

from being a shy, polite, young balinese man, he suddenly turned into a clowning, playful actor with the children. the classroom was simple, old, and with the bare minimum of an old chalk board, some bits of white chalk, and the kids sitting two to a table on benches, in three rows, boys and girls mixed together. after some hellos and joking around with them he asked them to open up their notebooks and show him their drawings from the week before. 

some had notebooks, some didn't, some knew how to draw, and drew the surrounding mountains, houses, pets, and trees. others just kind of had a scribble with a pencil, some knew how to write their name, others not. he went to each child and playfully identified what he saw in their drawings. next he invited one at a time to come to the board and write their name. about half of the kids enthusiastically raised their hands and he had fun teasing them by slowly deciding who to come to the board each time. many of them have 4 names, so writing their name is not a simple task; leaving enough space inbetween each of the 4 names, capital letters and small letters, 

after about 5 children he moved to learning how to write all the small letters. there was a poster on the wall with the alphabet written on it. they use the same letters as in the west, just some of the names are different. he invited those that knew how to write 5 consecutive letters to come up one at a time to the board. after each child would finish his turn at the board everyone clapped for them. it made no difference whether the child really knew the alphabet or not...the poster was there and he kiddingly tried to stand and block it so they wouldn't look at it, but they all did, and it was irrelevant. what was impressive was to see how tall and proud they each stood as they walked to the blackboard and when they returned to their seat amongst the clapping class. even the child that had wanted to write the whole alphabet, and just copied it from the poster letter by letter, was proud. homework for next saturday was to learn how to write the whole alphabet. 

as dirga moved about the classroom with exaggerated antics and enthusiasm, the 24 children did what children do...teasing each other, borrowing erasers and throwing them back at someone, hiding someone's pencil, going in and out of the room, older children standing in the open doorway teasing and offering them food, some pushing and shoving of boys with boys and boys with girls, and everyone was happy and easygoing. when one child told dirga that the other child had hurt him, dirga happily invited both of them to shake hands and be friends, which both boys did happily. after that others also suggested that they too would like to shake hands and be friends with someone who had teased them too! so he invited each pair to join hands and beeome friends too, as the class clapped again in support. 

i watched all of this with a million questions going through my mind! where is the discipline, the control, the order? how is it possible to just have fun with whoever wants to learn and let go of everything else?! one boy who had been sitting underneath his table, and then crawled out and sat with his notebook on top of his face, as if asleep, was soon surprised to find the whole class laughing at him as dirga crept up to him laughingly surprising him as he removed the notebook, and made a joke. the child too laughed, embarrassed, but feeling part of the funny situation...not at all ostracized or shamed.

the next classroom we entered were 6th graders. there were about 30 of them, some squished 4 to a bench, other benches empty, all active and happy to see dirga come into the classroom, the two entrances to the classroom also quickly filled up with kids from the other classes that happened to stroll by and wanted to hear what he was teaching the 6th graders in this english class. all were welcome, to stand, to sit, to come in, go out, it made no difference to anyone. by the end of the 30 minutes there were only 15 kids left, but this was of no concern to anyone. whoever wanted to learn english came, and when he had enough, he just left and played out in the courtyard. 

"i love you.
you love me.
we are a happy family.
with a great big hug
and kiss from me to you
will you say
you love me too?"

this was sung to the tune of "this old man, he played ten...."  he wrote the words on the board and then recited them in unison with the kids  phrase by phrase, with some translation. next he had them counting off and reciting the alphabet one after the other, each saying one number or letter in the sequence. everybody had a great laugh whenever someone didn't know what to say for their turn! and so they would all start over again. and even though the same child was mixed up 5 times in a row, they all laughed, including him. next he divided the class in half and while he had them doing a clapping hands and snapping fingers rhythm while reciting their own number or letter followed by the next ones" ( "one two" "two three" "three four"... ) some shouting it, some quietly mumbling, some with the beat, some off beat....and then...all running off for another break.

he had a break now too so i asked some of the million questions i had after watching this unusual teaching method.

 first, are any of the kids on ritalin? he had no idea what i was talking about. they have no children taking medication for behavior problems. 

is this open free style of teaching typical at all schools? saturday is the day that the kids choose what extracurricular subjects they like, so there is not the usual teacher and framework. 

why aren't there disciplinary problems? all the teachers are taught to try and enter the minds of the child, to be his friend, to think and act like a child. laugh,be playful, have fun, pretend. this way the child learns through his whole body, and not just using their brain and  eyes by looking at a serious teacher standing in front of them teaching them information.

what happens in the higher levels? even there the teacher is a friend to the students, not only teaching them the subject, but building up a personal relationship with the student, knowing what is happening at home, in life. 

where are these children from? they are mainly from poor families in the area, so the children walk between 1-2 kilometers up and down the steep mountain to come to school. on saturdays they are given a hot meal, as part of the charity, since many never have a hot lunch. they are taught the importance of nutrition and sanitation too. 

we finished our break and went to the classical dance class. there a lovely young woman was teaching the 3 dances that young girls do, and the dance for the boys. all ages were together and the 45 some kids that had chosen this class were all squished in the classroom together, having pushed the desks a bit to the side. dirga is also a classical dancer so he volunteered to take the boys outside and teach them while she focused with the girls. i joined in, happy to have an opportunity to learn some basics in this casual atmosphere.  what surprised me was that it is taught just like with the gamelon! she dances the whole dance at top speed, with the speakers blasting the famous gamelon accompaniment and you just imitate her from beginning to end, year after year, slowly improving by your own efforts. no explanations, no step by step. whoever wants to try, at any point, does, and whoever just wants to watch, watches, no mirrors, just copying from the person standing in front of you, or next to you, or the teacher, if you can see her! 

the boys were so cute! they were holding their spears, but since there were only 6 spears and 16 boys, the others just pretended to hold a spear, or picked up a branch. as dirga also led them through their  dance, i suddenly understood that it is the balinese tai chi! it was so lovely to watch, and also amazing how each step and movement of shoulders, hands, feet are all exact and have the same bent knees as in tai chi, and the weight of the body being placed on one foot or the other, and the theatrical eye movements, which i now know are also excellent eye exercises. this applied to the girls dancing as well.

what was nice to see was how these young boys could have these wooden spears in their hands and battle with each other in a dance which is perfectly choreographed. so they had a way to express their masculinity and power, but in an artistic and creative way.it was also nice to see the young boy that just couldn't get the right beat during the english lesson, suddenly a wonderful dancer and right on beat. i asked dirga if all the  boys like learning dance, and he said no, not even when he was a child. what is interesting is that at any performances at the temple or on stage, the children are exposed to these same repetitive dances and know the music and the movements by heart just from seeing it all the time. 

another thing that "clicked" for me was that there is no desire to control anything...if the motorbikes are parked where they are practicing the dancing, they will just dance around them, not try and get someone to move them, there is so much noise and multi sensory things going on all the time, even in the classroom, and no one is trying to make it quiet and "conducive" to studying! at one point i went to hear the children that were playing on the gamelon and drums, another teacher came up to me and started a conversation and was surprised that i insisted that we go into the next room since i can't hear or speak in this noise! i realized that this is something i have been conditioned to. and they haven't! so when i go to the temple or a music festival, and there are multiple attractions going on all at the same time and people mulling about through it all, talking laughing, it is all part of one big Whole that they call Life, here....