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.