"it's time to go home"

The message was loud and clear, just unexpected! I woke up as usual  and walked down to the sea. It was still dark, but the sun would soon be up. I looked out at the sea, with overcast sky, tide in with the half moon, and scanned the shore to find a rock to sit on and journal while watching the rising sun. as I sat down and looked out to sea, I heard "it's time to go home". Ha! Okay….if you say so….you're the boss. And there was a moment of joy along with the surprise. Joy that it is so simple and right and a new beginning. my mom had called for medical help the night before because she wasn't feeling well, and was taken to the hospital for high blood pressure. I received some emails notifying me of that, and also telling me that she feels fine and will be going home hopefully soon. I realized that the message I had heard had to do with that. It was time for me to go home and be around. Not because someone asked me to, or needed me to, but because it was time to. It was a good feeling knowing that something very fundamental had changed inside of me along with the message I had heard. Something that knew that this is what I need to do, regardless of what anyone else thinks or does. It was so different than the "message" I had received a month and a half ago that "it is time to stay home" while I was visiting there…that too had been clear and simple and was met with total willingness on my part, but when I attached that to care taking of my mother, she refused and demanded to continue to be independent till the end and doesn't want me hanging around, unless it is something I want. Not because she needs me. She doesn't need me. She wants me there, like always, but doesn't need me. And if I wasn't needed, then why in the world would I let go of the magnificent dream come true life I was leading here in bali?? 

But now it was different. Now it was resounding in sync with what my brother had written me a few months earlier when I thought I suddenly needed to go home to help my mom through an operation. He said that my inner peace is the only important thing here. To go and do something for someone, but inside not feel at peace, is pointless. And that the ideal situation would be for me to want to return home, and be there because I wanted to, and not because someone  asked me to or because I was needed, and then be grateful that no one even needs me once I have returned! I couldn't imagine ever being in that place…but suddenly this morning I found myself with that exact inner constellation that had formed somehow over the past couple of months, unbeknown to me!

The clock was ticking. I knew I had to get back and get to the airport immediately if I was to get a flight that would replace my current ticket for april. I quickly walked back to the house, tried to find new tickets and pack and say a sudden goodbye to all, in 15 minutes….but, once I checked my ticket I found that I still have another day until I need to go. Trying to be online and finding tickets was its usual hassle, and I knew to trust that it is all perfect, and that the tickets will appear in the perfect timing and so will my passport arrive from offices that are closed, and and and…

My friends, whose home I live in and their parents that live on the compound, were all in shock from my sudden announcement. Until now they knew my plan was to go home in may for a month, and again return and continue living here…for the rest of my life! The Balinese doing things according to auspicious dates on the calendar, by planning, slowly, thinking, calmly…not by suddenly hearing the voice of God and getting up and getting on a plane. I had no explanation other than "that is what I was told this morning at the sea. I am just as surprised as you are. But I know I must do it."

 I also knew that it was because of them that I was able to do it. It was the grandparents and their gentleness, their constant bestowing of small gifts of food or other gestures of love, of togetherness without words, of smiles flashed as we passed each other on the compound. Of cooking lessons, of giving my organic debris to the pig, of making offerings twice daily at the family altar and around the compound and house, of utter awe and respect towards them as I witnessed the way they "served" Nature, and god in every action they took, whether it was sharpening the knife everyday, or cutting greens and feeding the cow, while sitting there watching him eat next to the little bonfire, or being the midwives for the pig that birthed 9 piglets, or climbing up the coconut tree to bring me fresh coconut water, or smoking my fresh fish in banana leaves on the hearth for me, or inviting me to cut greens from the garden for meals or offerings, and including me in all the family gatherings, etc. all of this had created a feeling of great reverence in me towards them, with them.

It was also the son and his family that was always thinking of ways to answer my needs before I even knew they were a need. Of small gestures of love and kindness, thoughtfulness, attention, of long conversations or short explanations about life and balinese beliefs and religion and customs.  My endless questions were always met with thoughtful, beautifully explained answers that would melt my heart. The children were my playmates in hoola hooping and mandala making from the glass shards and seashells from the sea.  We understood each other even though we spoke different languages, them picking up and practicing some English, and me using body language and  my limited vocabulary to build our relationships.

So that was the beginning of my "returning home". For me, even to use the term "home" was progress, because a few months ago when I went to visit, I saw that I could not type the word. It didn't coincide with what I was feeling. Home was bali. I was going back "to visit". Not back  "home". And now there was something that felt filled to the brim with magnificence. The magnificence of living in this dream-like world of nature, of music, of smells of incense, of fresh fruit from the trees, of dirt paths to the sea, of smiling happy kind people, of minimal expenses and needs, of not working or having to earn money, of letting the day unfold however it did and being enthralled with it anew each day, of making offerings and praying twice a day and feeling the energy and gift that that experience gave me, of living outdoors the whole day, of spending hours by the sea, of walking to the market at 4:30 a.m. and being happy to speak with the vendors, of the ceremonies, and magic of bali.

It suddenly became clear to me what it means to "empty the vessel". Each day was more magnificent than the one before it, and now was the time to empty it out, in israel, in my community, with my friends and family. And I had perfect faith that when it was time it would be filled again. How, I didn't know, but that it is okay to empty it so it can be filled again, that is what was clear, and welcomed. What I didn't expect was that it would start happening while I was still here! I thought that once I get back to Israel, the gravity of it will hit and I will be cool and collected and stay centered and allow my vessel to empty out while I stay "present" and witness it. Nice…but not how it is happening….

The constant smile from ear to ear that was always on the grandfathers face, is no longer there, there is a heaviness in the air. I am excited about going home, and they are sad and confused about my sudden leaving , when everything was so perfect. The grandmother enjoyed having my company on the compound…as did the grandfather. They keep bringing me gifts of special ripe fruits from their trees today…special fish sate that she made for me. They want to know when I will  be back. And the truth is…there is a taste to this, that is reminiscent to the "message" I got when I stopped being a potter. As I walk about I hear "this is the last time you are making this spicy meal", "this is the last time you are going to the sea in the dark to see the sunrise", "this is the last time you are squatting on the squat toilet and showering with this cold water poured from the bucket on you", "this is the last glass mandala you are making on the porch", "this is the last time you are getting the internet card arranged by the lovely Balinese staff at this resort"…it is not me deciding this….it is just what is happening. This is the bali that I had planned to live in till my last day of life, that touches me to my deepest depths, that fills me with light and gratitude all day long, that reveals her secrets through nature and the people here. How could this be my last time? But packing up everything, feels like it too. i have no idea why.

But the part that isn't fun is that the magic is disappearing before my very eyes…this I didn't expect. When I went to the altar of the compound this morning, it was suddenly just cement, with a mildewed piece of cloth tied at the tip of it, and the forest surrounding it was flat and lifeless. I stood there in disbelief. How could this be? Just yesterday evening as I placed the offerings here I had such a touching encounter with god…what happened? I closed my eyes, and prayed, and when I opened them a bit of the magic had returned, but barely. The light happy feeling as we passed each other in the compound, was now empty and even had a taste of "anger" in it…and I realized "of course, they must go through mourning now…and the stage after denial, is anger….ah….so that is what I am feeling"  and then also all of the physical world which played tricks on me; eating up all my credit on the internet, my cell phone suddenly not having any more credit so my sms messages were never received telling the driver I was not travelling today, but tomorrow instead, all the photos I took for my previous landlord – disappearing in thin air on the computer, and the very fine fine taste of reverence being replaced by a grosser form of myself….unbelievable…the emptying of the vessel….

So I am trying to witness it all, and even be grateful to god that instead of a big boom when I hit home, it is already starting to disappear while I am here…so I will have no excuses to say it is because Israel is so heavy! I know I do things fast. I know I do things suddenly, I know I am extreme. And this has been an out of this world extremeeeeeeee 2 years in bali. I am not leaving things behind here…if and when I return, I will have all that I need, I am sure. I also know that it is easy to be writing all of this as I hear the birds and roosters, and sit on the porch in the warm weather looking out into the forest of tall coconut trees and Balinese pop music or the chanting from the temple echoing out now and then…I am bringing back only one souvenir; the incense sticks…that in a moment of need, I can light one and remember this far away exotic beautiful bali that I loved, and that touched and changed me and filled me to the brim. I am grateful. And curious what comes next!

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