the cremation

I left my room at 6:30 a.m. dressed in a dark kabiya and a light colored sarong….didn't know that the sarong was supposed to be dark colored too. Just as I was turning the corner to reach nyomans compound to meet her, her father walked out of his little house with her lovely 7 month old baby in a baby sling on his chest, since he was going to be babysitter while nyoman and I went to her uncles cremation. It was so sweet seeing this grandpa with the baby. He accompanied me to nyomans house at which point she and I left for the deceased's' house. It was a 10 minute walk, and when we arrived at 7, the 6 day old corpse was just about to be bathed.

Men and women surrounded the bamboo stretcher in the garden, where the 54 year old man was laid out on a coconut leaf woven mat, naked other than a small piece of white cloth covering his genitals. The garden was large, with many trees shading all of the hundred some participants, including the gamelon orchestra. About 15 men and women began to "wash" his body with a bar of soap and water. He had died from his third stroke a week before, and had been kept until this auspicious day, with blocks of ice that were changed every 5 hours. During the week any family and friends that could, had been busy preparing the huge amount of detailed things needed for the cremation. And now was the actual day of it.

Children participated in the most natural way, non pulsed by the stiff body, that was being washed. My archangel ketut was there, taking photos of everyone and everything. I tried not to impose myself but was also very curious to see everything they were doing and to understand the symbolism of it all. The men had been very busy placing pieces of glass on his eyelids, a narrow green leaf on each eyebrow, a flower bud in each nostril, and a little piece of bamboo used like a funnel in his mouth along with a flower. Ketut explained some of it to me, but was kind enough to ask some friends that were happy to share their knowledge in perfect English:

"The Balinese need a lot of money in order to make all the complicated ceremonies they must do in their lifetime. So we do not have money to spend on vacations abroad. (ahem…). In Hinduism there are many ceremonies. The first is when the baby is born. The placenta is buried in the ground underneath the rain gutter so it will receive lots of water always and take care of the person during his lifetime. When his umbilical cord falls off, it is placed in an amulet that is worn by the baby and also guards the child. At the age of 6 months the baby is given their name. since until then they were still only spirit beings. Now they are human, and have their heads shaved and begin their life. When they reach maturity they must have their teeth filing ceremony in order to avoid acting out the 6 sins; jealousy, stupidity, gluttony, anger, inappropriate sexuality, and...(? maybe stealing or lying or killing, but he didn't say…) then there is the marriage ceremony. And lastly there is the cremation. We believe that the person will be reincarnated again. So it is worth his while to be kind and happy and a good person in this life time, because otherwise he can be born bad; with a distorted body for example. The pieces of glass that are placed on his eyelids are in order for him to clearly be able to see heaven. His nostrils are with flowers since they were the source of his breath all of his life. And the little piece of bamboo in his mouth is for him to "drink" the holy water during the blessings before his soul departs on his "journey". "

The cleansing and wrapping in a white cloth and lifting and moving took about an hour, at which point he was eventually placed in a red and gold material covered wooden open "casket" and placed in a corner covered in white material, and a big white material "lid". The priest was busy quietly instructing people where to place the multitude of "bought" offerings, some of which went on top of his body, others next to, and others on altars. The deceased was childless, but left enough money (some $3000) in order to pay for the cost of this expensive (for Balinese) cremation ceremony.

For the next couple of hours the women sat together near the widow, laughing, chatting quietly, busying themselves with bringing water and sweets to everyone to eat, paying the different people that were giving service, running to do errands, like buying a small mirror, comb and white face cream which would be placed in one of the offerings, for the deceased's' next incarnation, or cutting long strips of white cloth that we all tied around our forehead the moment his body had been prepared. This was a sign for all those participating in the cremation. White for them is the color of death, which in fact is the color of good also.

The gamelon band was playing on and off over the next 10 hours of the ceremony. The music was similar but different from what they usually play in the temple ceremonies. The notes were quite delicate and high pitched, but the music wasn't "going " anywhere….no transformation, just a soothing backdrop to the entire day, during all the stages of the ceremony which included preparing the body, arranging the offerings, the high high priest coming and performing the ceremony in the garden, then as we made a procession from the house down the main road a 1/2 hour walk to the cemetery, then once at the cemetery they continued as the pre cremation ceremony was performed, during the burning of the body, the post cremation ceremony, and the procession from the cemetery down to the sea shore, which was another 10 minute walk, and then the ceremony at the shore ending with sending some of the remains off in a boat out to sea. The last two parts were a bit more dramatic with excited cymbals beating quickly. Then they were finished playing their music, were paid for their services, and went home.

I could go on and on for hours trying to describe all the details of this cremation ceremony. For those that want to read on, I will try and stick to the outstanding things for me. First of all, other than being a topic of conversation for one and all, quietly, but constantly, it was a great honor for me that they accepted me and allowed me to participate as an equal with them all, even though I just happened to show up at the house with nyoman in the morning and did not know any of them. A few of the people spoke to me, either in English or Balinese, but most of the time I was just a quiet observer, or participant. There were many tasks that needed to be filled during the ceremony, one of which was carrying the many huge offerings on the women's heads during the procession, which nyoman asked me to do and I accepted. The men were carrying the cremation pyre. Later at the cemetery there are also processions done by a select few, blessing the different offerings scattered around the cemetery. I was keeping a close look at what was happening the whole time so when I saw that they needed some women, and none were getting up to go over there, I decided to. As I reached the priest to receive whatever he was going to hand me amongst the options (a live duck, live chick, young coconut with water, incense, offerings…) it was just my luck and I was given the huge bundle of folded leaves and the silver water holder in order to sprinkle holy water on everything. As I began, one of the organizers quickly rushed over to me and said "bali" and showed me that only with the right hand do we touch holy things and do actions, and there I was with the bundle in my left, sensing that this might not be right, but then again, maybe holding the holy water in my left hand is even worse! The same lack of understanding had happened to me a few days earlier when I was watching auntie (the "silent smile") come to place the offerings in the evening on the altar of the main bale of the resort. It was so heaped with former offerings that she was already on tip toe each time to place it on top, and I was wondering when she would ask someone to clean it out. She walked over to the waste basket and we had eye contact that with her silent smile and my silent smile I knew she was asking me to empty out the altar for her. I took the waste basket and again and again removed all of the dried up offerings, being as attentive and with intention as I could. I may have even given myself an imaginary pat on my back, but the next day when I was quizzing nyoman about offerings, she raised her voice slightly and said "and always we do everything only with our right hand, even emptying out old offerings since our left hand is considered dirty." I got the message that she was so politely trying to give me, so that I would learn from my mistake. I asked her if what I had done the day before by emptying it out with my left hand was a horrible mistake, and she said that they understand that westerners do not know to only use their right hand for holy things, or in fact everything! So…when I had had that moment of doubt at the cemetery and he said "bali" I immediately switched hands and continued, "getting" the message quickly!

The general atmosphere the entire day was that of a nice gathering of friends, family, smiling, laughing, quietly sharing, sitting in little groups children playing, posing for photos with the widow with everybody smiling and giggling, eating a meal in the garden and another one in the cemetary; men with men, women with women, everyone just sitting on the ground (or graves) anywhere, with the "regular" ceremony meal of white rice and pig and coconut eaten with your right hand that was dipped in a bowl of water near the pot of rice, before serving yourself on the round piece of paper that lined a little straw plate. Little packets wrapped in triangular shaped paper containers had been prepared for everyone and were brought in 2 big baskets to the cemetery where we ate while the body slowly burned to ashes.

As the procession went along the main road traffic stopped for at least 20 minutes as we had the right of way. Villagers came out of their shops or houses and stood and watched us go by, naturally surprised and amused to see me holding the big offering on my head along with the other women. Tourists that were in cars waiting in the traffic were busy photographing the procession….it was interesting being on the other side of the camera! The Balinese just smile and laugh about it all. When we reached the intersection where we had to turn right off the main road to go down to the cemetery we went around in a circle some 3 times, shouting, in order to confuse the evil spirits that might be trying to follow the deceased and grab him before the cremation. Since I was in the front of the procession, I didn't have a chance to see what it looked like until we reached the intersection and made the circle, at which point I saw that the rest of the men and women that weren't holding the pyre or offerings, were holding onto a long white piece of material above their heads, symbolizing a "red carpet" for the pyre that followed it to be brought to the cemetery.

At the cemetery the casualness of it all continued. Sitting on graves, stepping on them, and eating on them was fine. When we arrived there there were even a few vendors inside with drinks and sweets and food for sale! The ice cream vespa with its musical tune and all soon followed into the cemetery so people could buy some ice cream while we waited there for hours. Even the empty plastic water cup lady that walks along the beach looking for anything she can sell for recycling or driftwood, was there, with her little boys, who were busy collecting empty cigarette boxes. She had put a sarong on top of her one dirty outfit she owns. We smiled at each other, since I know her from the beachfront. I was happy she was clever enough to come to the cemetery where hundreds of empty water cups were being tossed to the ground by everyone without a second thought…so at least she could contribute!

The high high priest that arrived to the widows house a few hours late, since he had been busy with another ceremony before this one, was accompanied and assisted by his wife. He went through many rituals of cleansing and blessing each object that would be used in the ceremony as he sat cross legged on a pillow on the raised platform. He placed about 10 huge stone rings on his hands, wore special crystals on long necklaces placed on each shoulder and around each ear and forearms and a tall red and gold plated crown with a big crystal on top. The constant ringing of the bell in his left hand was at the same tone as the gamelons that were playing. I decided that it is an exercise in attention for him, to be able to be ringing in his left hand a constant beat while his right hand is performing all kinds of purifications by sprinkling water or flicking flowers. A pink lotus flower was used in the ritual blessings. He is in his own world when he is performing all of these rituals and the rest of the people were all just chatting or sitting or moving about. An interesting part for me was seeing a big silver bowl being held by the deceaseds' brother. It had a little palm leaf stick figure with a face and all drawn on it and a very involved ceremony went on for quite a while with it. Other than many symbolic wrapped leaves and flowers and rice the priest also placed some of the petals of the lotus inside it. It was later carried in a white baby sling in the procession, and I realized that this was the symbolic incarnated soul already being blessed before it is reborn soon. One of the other touching symbols was a little boys brand new white button down shirt hanging on a hanger from a tall bamboo pole that hung near the temporary coffin and later carried at the head of the procession, again, symbolizing the new life that would soon be realized once he was cremated.

When we arrived at the cemetery the bamboo stretcher holding the corpse was brought over to the cremation site. It was very simple; 2 sheets of metal 2 meters long which were placed parallel to each other on the ground. They had holes and metal rods going through them making a kind of raised bed for the corpse and offerings to be placed on. More and more blessings and holy water and flowers being poured on him, as they uncovered his face, blessing him just like everyone else that would be blessed. The traditional blessing of drinking the holy water three times, was done on the body also thus the need for the little bamboo funnel. Everyone was just kind of standing around the cemetery, talking, playing, eating, quiet, mainly happy, but a few had a sad expression, no tears and the widow was peaceful and talking and sitting near the gamelon band. There was a timelessness to it all. No one wore a watch, or seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere .

Two strong burners were placed at either end of the metal sheets, so that one was opposite the head and the other at the feet. A few Gerry cans of kerosene were being piped into the burners via a big old can with a long leaky hose high up on the big tree next to the makeshift cremation area. Again, many more ceremonial procedures, including some 5 little cups of holy water, but there were only 4….so a quick phone call on the cell phone in the middle of everything to figure out where the missing cup is. Anything having to do with ceremonial procedures is done with utmost exactitude, and anything that has to do with life, like the empty water cups or plastic bags from the carry out lunch they brought for everyone is just thrown at ones feet, with total disregard for the repercussions of one's actions but total respect for any religious procedures.

One young man was chosen to light the match at either end as the kerosene sprayed away on the pieces of coconut shell and wood that were placed at either end in order to get the fire going. Kids, men and women all stood around watching, or chatting, as the fire began. Some threw in bills of money, I don't know if it was for good luck, or so that he would have money on his "journey" to his next life. The intense fire began and we all sat around for a few hours, until it was clear that the body was burnt. There were 2 men tending the fire, with a long prong that they poked around inside to check the stage of disintegration. As the corpse burned, the burners were pushed inside more and more until it was clear that only ashes were left. Another big fire was going at the same time not too far from the cremation, with all of the coffin material, wooden frame, mats, bamboo stretcher, material lid, and later a car arrived with the tens of huge ceremonial offerings that had been used at the house already and were also all tossed in and burnt thus cleaning out the widows house from it all.

Most of this time I just sat near the gamelons and listened to them. Nyoman had already returned to home to her baby who still nurses since some 6 hours had passed. I felt quite comfortable with myself there, alone, and sometimes sitting next to someone that would surprise me and speak some English. Once the fire ended the metal sides were removed and what was left was a piece of tin 2 meters long with a bunch of ashes and some pottery shards from the little clay water cups that had been placed on top of him in the offerings. By now only some 40 people were left and some gathered around the ashes as water was sprinkled to cool the ashes. 3 pairs of bamboo tongs appeared and everyone was invited to pick out the little white pieces from the black ashes, which would be little pieces of bone. It reminded me of how in Judaism everyone that wants to participate can take the shovel and shovel some dirt onto the corpse in the grave. So here children and adults were all encouraged to pick out a few pieces and place them in a big clay pot. After about 15 small pieces had been placed in the bowl and rinsed and cooled, 3 sticks of sugar cane were given to several people to grind the bones into a powder, while the other continued to pick out more bones, including me, after a nice man asked if I would like to, also. There was so much going on, it was hard to decide where to look, but I decided to keep my eyes on the priests and saw that the smashed bones were being made into a kind of paste which was later being spread onto lots of little offerings and being wrapped up and placed inside them. After another 15 or more pieces of bone had been picked out from the ashes and placed in the clay pot, it had another clay pot placed on it as a cover, and then a bamboo rice strainer as a cover or hat, and then wrapped up in a large piece of white material. This would then be what is thrown in the sea finalizing the end of the ceremony. The rest of the ashes were just left there on the ground in the cemetery, which suddenly explained to me all the ashes we had been stepping in all afternoon as we walked among the randomly placed graves.

After more ceremonial procedures and blessings we made the last procession down the road to the sea. It was a quiet road. This time I was not carrying in the procession but just walking along with them. At one point I felt a strong "presence" to my right, and when I turned my head to see who it was, I saw the young man that was carrying the wrapped clay pots with the bones shards on his left shoulder walking next to me, and I realized that this "presence" was coming from the pot of bones! Another ceremony on the rocky shore followed with us all seated on the ground looking out to the sea. More praying and little banana leaves with some flower petals were handed to each of us. Upon careful observation I realized that the white paste that was smeared on some of the leaves was actually the ground up bones of the corpse and we were all being given one as part of the prayer ceremony. I was very touched, and saw that the women placed it in their hair when they finished praying. The last part was the farewell. The wrapped up clay pots with some bones was placed in a fishing boat along with 3 men who accompanied it. As they left the shore, with the boat being shoved by those that were still around, everyone excitedly called out and happily waved "goodbye" to the deceased wishing him a good journey "home". While the boat went out to sea some 100 meters and placed the pot in the waters, the participants all walked into the sea and wet their face, hands and feet. I am not sure if this was a kind of cleansing, or the opposite; a way to unite with the holy waters that had just received the deceased on his journey back to god for his next reincarnation.

As you can tell from this very long entry, I am full of impressions from this day. But the bottom line for me was looking out at the sea, and realizing that 9 hours had passed since we started the day together, and it felt like 1 minute. And the realization that life is very short, and that each moment of life that I am being given, can be utilized for the purpose fpr which I was created: "to be a vessel for gods will". And that moment when they opened up the two sheets of metal which had held his body a few hours earlier, and all that was left now were some ashes, was a very powerful moment ….the transience of life.

humility and laughter

here in bali i feel like i live in a 24 hour kabbalah group! i have been wondering if that is why i am here...i have been told that i am taking the 'easy way out' by going to people that already live in bestowal, instead of doing the hard work to create a group and thus go through the process myself, and not instant! that may be true, i do not know. i just know i am supposed to be here at the moment, without knowing why. and that opposite the balinese i have an excellent mirror. they have put spirituality top priority. work is something they do when they are not at a ceremony. 2/3 of their meager salary goes to the costs of the ceremonies, they live from necessity, they are in bestowal. they humble themselves opposite everyone, they are soft spoken, laugh all the time, and turn to god in prayer for everything, all day.

one of the touching examples is what a guest told me yesterday, that they brought their rented car into the garage to be fixed, and first the mechanic lit an incense stick and placed a flower offering on the ground below the car before he began to see what the problem was. it is clear to all of them that we are just servants here, playing out a role in this physical world in order to practice making god top priority always. and they do it in a way that is so natural and subtle...maybe they do not even know they are doing it....i know they are...

and this morning when i was watching the sunrise, there were lots of dark clouds, as if it was going to rain, and the sea was very strong, and as the sun began to rise over the water, the infinite rays of light suddenly were visible thanks to the dark clouds...because otherwise, if the sky was clear, and there was no contrast of darkness near the lightness, it would have been invisible. and as i watched it i realized why we always need to be at the other extreme in order to see how opposite we are from god.

the other day i was walking over to the sofa here to sit down with the staff to begin our english lesson, the 3 of them were already seated in a semi circle and i had gotten up to get something and was coming back to my place. two of them were talking to each other and i walked inbetween them 2 steps in order to get to my seat in the shortest quickest way. and suddenly i realized what i had done. i had cut the energy with my physical body in such a grotesque way. and only opposite their soft, sensitive, low voices and presence, did my "self will" to get to my seat, appear. they are always aware of their surroundings and others and never just "jump out" with their ego. they have egos, no problem, but they always put the other one first, and then quietly may or may not say their opinion. after i had sat down i looked at one of them and said that what i just did, no balinese would ever do, right? and she smiled kindly and said "its okay" and we spoke about it a bit, and it is this western mind that is so goal oriented and focused on saving time and quick and short, that we have lost the sensitivity to the delicate interactions between and around us.

it happened yesterday too, i was sitting with the gardener and maintenance man, brainstorming about a little bamboo box to make for tips, and he told me his idea, (i had initiated the request to make a box) and suddenly while i was sitting there i spotted a piece of bamboo that was cut just like i was trying to explain to him so i suddenly got up and took 2 giant steps over to reach it to "show " him, and as i did so, my skirt got caught on a screw and tore. i looked at it and asked myself what was my lesson here? and i saw that i could have just sat there and nodded with him and accepted his idea, or maybe slowly gotten up and suggested my idea....so the torn skirt is a very powerful reminder for me about ego and fast and self will.

also, the other day a woman came by from my music group and wanted to take me to see some land she has where i can buy it and build a house. the balinese maintenance man was translating and as soon as he told me what she wants i said "oh no thanks, i am not buying any land or building a house" . and he smiled at me and said; "it would be a nice gesture if you go with her. she will show you her nice land, and maybe one day you will be laying and dreaming and thinking of palm trees and how nice it would be to have a house, and you will remember the land she showed you" and he smiled and made some more small talk, a few jokes, and i saw, that what was important here was the interaction, the human contact, the honoring of anothers will, the fact that she thought it would be wonderful for me to live here and build a house and she has land to sell....can i appreciate her idea? can i let her realize her desire to show me the land? can i bring her pleasure?

the balinese never say "no" they will say " maybe, later " or smile, but to say no to someone is an insult. their entire goal is balance and harmony. and so whenever something happens that is not in balance and harmony, they strive to bring balance and harmony and trust that each person has his own inner work to do and is at his own level of understanding and will develop at his own perfect pace in sync with gods will and we are not here to change anyone or anything. we trust that the person opposite me is exactly where god has put him at this moment, and when he is supposed to change, or develop, he will, and my only effort is to have compassion, understanding and acceptance and tolerance for whatever is revealing itself at this moment, and see what MY lesson is from what is happening now? what is my "work" here?

the owners have been away for a while and i have kind of "taken on myself" a kind of floor manager approach, noticing what is happening and commenting on it to the staff so that things will run smoothly even though the "big boss" is not around. the day before when some new guests were going in and out of the little gates that lead out to the sea, they left them open, and some stray dogs came in. the balinese are pretty scared of dogs. one of the young women from the staff tried to shoo them out, unsuccessfully and was afraid of being bitten. eventually the man bringing in the big water containers grabbed him and got him to leave. i mentioned to the maintenance man aka guard when big boss is away, that joni, the owners dog, had come in with some "friends". i think i had a kind of intention that he should know what is going on and be more alert if the gates are left open, or whatever. his response had me laughing so hard. he did not "buy into" my semi guilt trip that i was subtly mentioning, but went into a very sweet " oh yes, joni tells them all, come on over, my owner is away, let me show you where i live, you can walk around the grounds, see my house, and all the staff that take care of me, come see the pool, taste some of the delicious food they serve me..." it is clear to me that their use of humor is brilliant...they use it all the time, in place of confrontation. they use it to make you laugh, let go of seriousness and control, accept reality and the flow, and see that all is good, and easy and light. why make a problem out of something if you can make a joke out of it?

when i teach the staff english everyday, much of the time we are belly laughing as each one is suddenly tongue tied, or stunned by my question, or makes the same mistake again. we all just roll with laughter. it is such a wonderful way to learn a language and spend time together. if i think of how it could have been, with pressure to perform, to improve, to be the best, smart, clever. and instead, the unity and love and fun we have is so much more important, and the english just improves and flows out as a by product, instead of the straight and narrow goal.

each day brings new understandings and more and more layers. things are subtle. when i went to see the land that the woman wanted to sell, i saw an electric wire and poles, that cut across the skyline when looking out to sea, i saw a shoreline that was not lined with huge powerful tall shady trees, or a coast that was not gently curving around, or a nice beach filled with beautiful stones and black sand. and i realized that i am at the place i am at because of all of this. and as the sun set yesterday i went out for a walk along the shore that was suddenly very wide since the full moon ebb had changed it all and it just invited me to come out for a walk alone on the beach.the air was sweet, and i tried to figure out if there is a flower blooming nearby, i saw the reflection of the full moon on the water, i felt at peace with the universe. and in the dark i saw a little red glow from the temple, and i realized that the gardeners wife had just placed incense there, and that was the fragrance that was filling the air, along with all the other women in bali that had placed their sticks of incense and small flower offerings in all of the temples at dusk in honor of the full moon. i just walked along the beach filled with the sensation of perfection....that all of my senses are being delicately nourished from nature and these balinese villagers. and in the dark, suddenly the thin delicate body of made' , the waitress, appeared, coming out on the rocks to find me to tell me that "dinner will be served in 5 minutes". i laughed....how did she know to find me out on the beach in the dark? and so caring....

the tejuakula womens temple orchestra

during the 5 minute break from practicing the songs for the temple ceremony, the 21 women started talking about the details of the upcoming performance. they asked if i too want to participate. i enthusiastically shook my head yes, and then the giggles and belly laughs begun as i saw them pantomiming that i need to dye my hair black, and have long straight hair, and a green kabiya and...

i had seen young balinese girls being made up and dressed for a dance performance and knew that they just attach a long black pony tail, to their own hair so that it will come down to their waist. i thought, maybe i will get hold of one of those and surprise them and show up with my hair slicked back and a long!? but on second thought i noticed that half of them had shortish hair, so no big deal, they will also not have a long straight black pony tail. now just to find a green kabiya....

at the end of the session the women were going over the times, and where to meet and how we file in etc. all of this i picked up just by intuition, but thought i better find out exactly, and had made' call one of them to verify. she told him that we would be performing already tomorrow at the preparations and also on wednesday as planned at the main ceremony. i managed to borrow the green kabiya, and had nyoman prepare me an offering to bring.

a few days before when i had carried an offering on my head to the temple, it was difficult to hold it with my arm for half and hour and i had decided that i must learn how to balance it on my head like they do. i asked the girls how they learned how to do it and nyoman said that you just try and suddenly you can walk with it and that i can start with a basket of eggs! no! and i found some fruits and started to practice walking around the grounds with the basket on my head. it was difficult at first, but as they said i soon picked it up. the following morning i decided to try with a water bottle on my head, having seen young girls doing that one day too. surprisingly enough it was going well! so...i was ready to chance it.



i dressed up and decided to take an hour to walk the 20 minute path so that i could practice balancing it on my head. i took the offering in its little straw box, and started off....holding it with my hand. but after a few steps i decided its either now or never. not wanting the offering to go tumbling onto the ground and no longer pure, i took tiny baby steps the whole way, and didn't look right or left. an interesting experience. people that said hello along the way got a verbal response and a slight hand wave, but no eye contact, since i was not going to chance turning my head in any direction! they laughed. i don't even know which balinese they were, since i was just focused on looking straight ahead the whole time. by the time i reached the temple, i was feeling more confident and enjoying it, going at this slow pace moving gracefully.

when i entered the temple the first person i noticed was my guardian angel, ketut! i was so happy, since he was the one that had told me a week after i arrived the name of the woman that would help me with the gamelon, but it took another 6 weeks until we actually met and i received the information. and i so much wanted to thank him for "planting the seed" then. so there he was, looking straight at me as i entered the temple. he was standing with some men, and there was a long white cloth leading from the ground up the steps to the altar....i didn't know whether "we" (simple worshippers) were allowed to walk on it, or it is for the priests or for the gods?? so i walked to the side of it to say hello. only now, looking back, do i realize that it was not the most appropriate thing to do, since when entering the temple with the offering on your head, it is not the time to start socializing, but rather to light the incense sticks, walk up the stairs, place it down and say a blessing, and then sit down on the ground with the other worshippers to participate in the 15 minute praying of the priests and being blessed with the holy water (they sprinkle it first on your head as you sit with palms open on your knees, then you place right hand into left and he drops water from the little coconut whisk onto your hand 3 times, and each time you bring it to your mouth and sip it, then 3 more times in your right palm and each time you drip it on the top of your head, and then he serves you a little plate of damp raw white rice grains and you take a smidgen with your right hand and place it in your left palm and then take a few grains each time placing it on the third eye, behind each ear, tongue, throat, heart and top of head. and then say a little prayer of thanks. then the Om shanti shanti shanti om signal that you are leaving the god in the temple and taking your offering back home, it having been blessed by the priests and also a little plastic bag of holy water has been placed in it to give to family members that weren't able to come, or for you to drink a sip each day.)

so....i thanked him, he smiled, and asked if i would like to bring the offering to the altar and i said yes and he offered to accompany me, since he probably knew i had never done it before. he motioned that i, yes, walk on the white sheet...it is for the worshippers. and then he passed me over to another man that took the offering, lit the incense and put it in place. so again, i hadn't done it myself. but, maybe next time.
after the praying i sat in the courtyard and figured i would wait until i see the women from the orchestra also wearing green kabiyas and red sashes....after 3 hours of sitting there, and wondering why none of them have come, i spotted one of them and she came over smiling and happy to see me. she told me that we are not supposed to play today, only tomorrow at 6 in the evening...ahh....

and during those 3 hours that i sat there, i was listening to the men playing the gamelon, watching how the women guffawed (now i know what it means!) whenever anyone tripped on the floor mat, which is always their way of coping with embarassment; exaggerate it, and let all involved have a good laugh. i also sat with mithas mother who suddenly knew how to speak english with me, even though she has never said a word, and i was watching the people praying, watching the continuous flow of worshippers coming and going, just watching how this whole mechanism works, and for what, and why and where. once i realized that we weren't playing today, i had had enough. i wondered why the other woman had said that i should come today? i saw there was a moment of a feeling that i "wasted my time and money" but quickly remembered that everything is exactly the way it is supposed to be. there are no mistakes, and laughed how lucky that i did come since i met ketut and was able to thank him, and enjoyed listening to the gamelons, and saw how the community functions at ceremonies. got a close up preview of what will happen the following day and the $2 i spent on the offering....i will consider a gesture of gratitude, even though i am the one that takes it back home to eat and drink!

the following day i enjoyed just relaxing, and then suddenly was rushing around getting dressed again, as i realized that walking with the offering on my head again is going to take a while, and praying before and ....so there i was, "rushing" out the gate to get to the temple on time. ridiculous. how was i going to walk quickly with it on my head?! but to my surprise, just like with the hoola hoop, having "slept on it" you suddenly can do it better the next day. so i was able to walk much quicker and more at ease, and actually marveled at how the body learns these things that are totally impossible at first. when i reached the temple steps, the gate was closed, and 3 policemen were "directing traffic" since thousands of worshippers were coming and going from 4 a.m. until 9 p.m. it was 5. we had to play at 6...and there i was, first in line, but for the next influx of worshippers, since it was full at the moment. i started berating myself for leaving so late and being in a crunch. what will i do if i am in the middle of the ceremony and the other women all sit down to play? get up and leave? can i play without having prayed and been blessed first? and then again, a moment of acceptance, that this is exactly what is supposed to be happening, all is perfect, relax. its bali.

and soon i found myself being squeezed in the "temple squeeze" again, with no where to go forward, but 50 villagers wanting to get in. ridiculous. what i didn't realize was that they were all nimbly getting their incense lit and placed in the open baskets on their heads, without any fuss, so that they could just parade right up that white sheet on the stairs and get their offering put in place and get a comfortable place on the ground. with not a centimeter to move my hands or body, i realized that that was one detail i had overlooked, and that once i do get in, i am going to have to find a way to get the incense lit and inside the basket while everyone is rushing in, and i am "in a hurry", since we play in another 30 minutes! i tried doing it while walking, unsuccessfully, and then stopped, but was pushed aside, and then did not remember that they always seem to find a "protected" place to light their match and hold the 3 incense sticks down at an angle so that the wind won't blow out the match....aha...so they all had a good giggle again, watching me trying to light match after match, for each stick of incense that i placed in a fan display in the basket, not realizing it was not going to be easy to light like that. and at the same time, trying to hold the offering in one hand, at at least shoulder level, out of respect, and cannot place it down on the ground or anything. it was then that i realized that everyone either comes with a child, a mother, a sister, a husband, who helps them get the match lit and the sticks lit and in place while it is still on their head. oh well.

i decided to choose a place to sit that would be close to where i placed my offering so i could avoid the "om shanti" rush afterwards, and get quickly to the orchestra group before it was 6! all went well. and i finished on time, and again, sat on the sidelines, and started to look for the other women....but no one in sight. i wondered if i was going to recognize any of them, since wearing a kabiya and sarong makes everyone look very elegant, and i had only seen them until now in t-shirts and pants. again, reminded myself that everything is exactly the way it is supposed to be and no point in worrying, just be in the moment, and trust. so i sat there and watched the people praying again, and all the dynamics of parents and children and men, and young and old, and the gamelons, and the chanters and lost all sense of time.

suddenly from a different entrance there were a bunch of women waving to me to come over to them, as they waited altogether outside the temple in their lovely pale green flower print kabiya....and me in my chartreuse green....ugh...oh well....when the balinese want to pass by someone, they make a very humble half bowed gesture with their body and place their right hand at a 45 degree angle, as if they are cutting through space, respectfully. and now it was my turn....how was i going to get past all of these hundreds of worshippers to the other side of the temple without being the center of attention, while they are still in the middle of praying? i had already experienced the grossness of my western body language previously that same day when i was about to teach english to the staff. they were sitting in a semi circle waiting for me to join them, and while two of them were talking i just walked in between their "talking" to reach my seat. it was so shocking for me, only once i had plopped myself onto the sofa, did i realize how delicate and humble their energy and interactions are compared to the "elephant in the china shop" that i was as i was totally focused on ME and MY seat and ME getting there the quickest way possible, without considering that i could walk around them and quietly find my place in their circle. what a lesson that was, i immediately asked nyoman, who was seated next to me, if what i did was totally western and insulting to them, she smiled and said "its okay". i continued to question her about us and them, how they are first focused on never disturbing someone elses space, and only secondly on what their own personal agenda is. their priority is always harmony and balance at all times. even today when i was suddenly approached by one of the gamelon women who had come here this morning in order to invite me to see a piece of property off the sea that she is interested in selling and thought i might want it, i just said "no thanks". made', who was standing there, translating, gently explained to me in a humorous way that it would be a nice gesture to go with her even if i do not want to buy it today. maybe one day i will be dreaming, and i will see coconut trees, and i will think, "oh, maybe i will build a house where there are nice coconut trees" and then i will have seen her property and can buy it, who knows" . and i realized that first, i must listen to her, and respect her, and understand that this is something that she initiated because she thought it was a nice idea for me, and to return that gesture with an act of respect too, even if nothing will come of it. it is so different than my very direct, immediate, straightforward, short answers that i always give. someone had also told me a few days earlier that the balinese will never say "no". they will say "later", "maybe", "lets see", "oh", "yeah", but not "no", which is an insult and shows a lack of sensitivity towards the other person. i can understand this because of my kabbalah studies, which for me has the same priority of always seeing the other as "greater than you" so that when the common goal is "love thy neighbor as thyself" the "thyself" is that you want everything that you want! so can i give my neighbor that same priority, that same love?

where were we? oh yes, so i took a deep breath, did a half bend with 45 degree outstretched arm, and just "cut" my way over to where the women were, again concerned that here i am with my rice grains on my forehead, having prayed, and once i go out the gate of the temple, i will have to pray again in order to play! why are they doing this to me?! oh well. trust,

i walked out the gate, only to find 21 lovely women, all looking beautiful with make-up, identically dressed with gold and pink stoned earrings, a gold broche, a gold barrett in ALL of their black buns (they all had big black fake buns attached to their hair, so that's why they were laughing that they didn't have a bun to give me too!)
when they saw me in kabiya and sarong and sash, it was as if i was suddenly "one of them" and they all started speaking to me, giving me the thumbs up, even knew english and were asking my name, where i live in america...maybe also because they saw the rice grains still stuck on my forehead and they realized i had prayed, or just their excitement before the performance. we had our own little shortened prayer ceremony with the priest before filing onto the bale, having left our flip flops thrown right and left in the narrow pathway (nothing like in japan where everyone places them next to each other facing the direction that will be easy to put on, all in rows!)

and there we were, filing in and each woman going to sit down at her instrument, and they were all seated and...i found myself standing, looking around, as there was one less gamelon...what a joke! i had prayed in the morning telling god that whatever is supposed to be with the performance, let it be, so here i was letting it be...all dressed up and no gamelon to play on! i was fine with it, thought that god has a cute sense of humor and i was quite willing to just walk off stage. it isn't really a stage, it is a raised platform, and no one is even looking at you, since they are all filing in and out and praying, and we are just the backdrop of music to keep the atmosphere sacred. and the senses focused ( i think). the woman that usually sits next to me and doesn't speak english, quickly made room for me to play together with her on her gamelon. i refused and told her that she should play and i am fine. but she insisted, gesturing one song me, one song her. and that is what we did. it worked out fine. it was all very simple and natural and enjoyable. when we finished playing our 5 songs, off we went, allowing the mens gamelon orchestra to continue this marathon of 3 days of playing 17 hours a day. but they were laughing and taking breaks and having a good time. we sat down nearby and i realized that just like you pray before playing, you also pray after playing.

once we were blessed again, the mad scramble of temple squeeze, out the door this time. one orchestra woman insisted that i take the little bag of food, so off i went, my offering on my head, and a plastic bag with some cold white rice and a few sate kebabs of pig and coconut with fresh blood....a meal given to those that have given service at the temple (i treated the dogs to mine, since i do not eat that food, and didn't want to just throw it out) i was happy to be walking home in the dark now, balancing my offering on my head as if i had done it my whole life. there was a bit of curiosity on my behalf of whether i would be the focus of the talk of the town since a westerner had played the gamelon, but i was grateful that other than one man giving me a thumbs up and imitating the hand movements of the gamelon, i was not really an attraction.

and now we have "holiday" and no practicing for the time being. but i am very grateful to their open hearts, support and compliments from all the women afterwards that i played well, and the feeling of a group.

desires

human beings are creatures of desire. i always have a desire, or even many desires. i figure those specific desires have come to me for some reason or another, and often i have no idea why. some make my heart sing. and if they do, i decide to "hand them over to god" that if they are supposed to be actualized, they will, and if they are supposed to be "lifted" from me, they also will.

one of the many desires i have is to play the gamelon chimes in the womens temple orchestra. i experienced it by chance 6 months ago when i was in bali. the feeling of unity and service and being embraced by the chiming intensity of it all filled me up with joy. having moved further east, i hoped to find a womens gamelon orchestra in the village, but no one knew anything about it; whether there was, when they met, who was in charge, if i could join....each time i met someone new in the village i would ask if they knew. but alas, no luck. i continued every day to give it over to god to deal with. if it was meant to happen it would, and if not, then let it be.

i feel that my part in the drama is to bring this desire to the forefront each day. what happens to it after that is no longer my business, unless "guided" to act. here in bali, especially, the "tips" seem to be very clear when they come. it started with made' mentioning to me 4 days ago that there will be a big ceremony in the temple next wednesday. he knows i enjoy participating and trying to understand what its all about. i thanked him for the information and made a note of it in my mind. then suddenly that afternoon i asked myself what i want to do now? and i began to walk in one direction just to take a walk, but something guided me to turn around and go visit my adopted family after a long period of absence on my part. there the father mentioned the same ceremony and commented that the womens gamelon may be playing there, but he has no more information to help me. i went to a contact i had received the first week i was here, and her husband called to find out when they are practicing, but again, no answer. i let go.

when i returned the following day from watching some children learning classical balinese dance in the courtyard of the school, the staff told me that the husband i had met the day before had come to tell me that tomorrow at 3 the womens gamelon temple orchestra will be practicing at the community center! i jumped for joy! there is an orchestra, and i finally know where and when.

i wanted to be prompt and together with that i knew that i may be the only one there at 3. when i arrived there were some women there already, smiling at me as i entered their territory with confidence. i said in my best indonesian : i want to too. they invited me to join them, but it turned out they were 8 women in the middle of a cookie and water break from their exercise class of hip hop balinese aerobics. oops....i clarified that i had come for the gamelon and they nodded and smiled and assured me that soon they will come.

the community center is open air, and is transformed every hour or so, either with ping pong played on 2 tables that they put next to each other and attach a net, or badmiton, or aerobics, or....practising gamelon! while i was waiting, one of the men walked around with a tray with offerings and placed them one in the middle of the court underneath the volleyball net, along with other strategic places. and slowly the women started coming in all shapes, sizes, ages, in their t-shirts and 3/4 length tights pants. they always giggle, chat, are busy leaning or touching each other the whole time they are talking, and laughing always. none of them spoke english, but they were all friendly and understood i wanted to join them.

i figured out which was the leader. i decided to chance asking if i could join them, and not just sit and listen, and asked "i can?" her response "can".!!! thank you !! she motioned that i sit down at one empty gamelon among the 22 instruments where someone had not shown up. over the next two hours of practice i was sometimes guided by one of the men that is there, that knows what each individual instrument plays (unbeliveable) and i tried my best, letting go of trying to memorize, and just trying to do it in the moment. and sometimes just sitting there, not knowing what to play, and just enjoying being "inside" it all. it is very different than just listening to it, when you are among all the instruments.

the sound of the music was what i had waited for all of these months. it makes absolutely no sense to me, i have no idea if we are playing the same song again, or if it a different one...it all just goes on and on and envelopes me into it. by the time we finished my ears were ringing and i couldn't hear what anyone was saying to me. i just smiled. asked if i could come the following day again and they agreed. i refused a lift home, wanting to just walk the 15 minute path quietly, alone, letting the miracle of it all sink in.

the miracle of it all was still incomprehesible. something that i had wanted for so long, and it finally was being actualized. and all because of the different communication i had had with all these people. putting my desire up front and asking if they have a puzzle piece for me.

this morning made' came to my room to say that the woman that had offered me the lift home the day before had come to see me. it turns out her son is a cab driver and she wanted to give me his phone number if i ever need a driver. i took advantage of the fact that made' was there, and could translate, and i asked if the women meet regularly, or if this is just a 6 day practice for the ceremony on wednesday. yes, they meet every monday and saturday from 6-8 in the evening. i'm in heaven! there is a womens gamelon temple orchestra, ("...right here in river city!"). i asked if i can participate? yes. thank you.

and this afternoon i again left for the practice. again, the only one there at 3, but by 3:30 slowly everyone shows up, laughing, playing with each other. this is the balinese. i had thought that they just haven't "grown up" yet. but a woman i met that knows them and has lived with them had a different take on it, she said it is just that they haven't lost that natural playfulness of children that we westerners have. i liked that theory. it made sense here.

today after i had been motioned to sit down at the gamelon, they placed me in the cymbals section. when i got off my little stool to move to the cymbals on the floor to my left, i stepped over one of the gongs that was near my feet. the head woman made an exaggerated imitation of surprise and imitated my clumsy insensitivity of stepping over a holy musical instrument, so everyone laughed. this is how they deal with embarrassing situations...just like little kids. i said excuse me, realizing my mistake.

until she imitated me i hadn't realized how my body move so entirely different from theirs. there is a kind of minimalistic approach to everything, and also very slow, and almost invisible. i watch the gardener and the waitresses and housekeeper everyday, and see a kind of flow. when jochan decided to cut off the tall branches on the lemon tree so that it would grow in width instead of in height, he asked made' for his knife (all men have a kind a sickle that they use for everything) and he just hacked away at two branches with large strenuous movements, leaving the tree naked. i don't know if i would have noticed it as strange, if it wasn't so totally in contrast to the delicate and exact movements that made' makes when he gardens. he stood nearby, but did not comment. and when i sat down near the cymbals i suddenly felt just like i had just hacked at the branches too, with my stepping over the gong.

now i lifted up the heavy metal cymbals with red pom poms on them. we were 6 women, playing 3 different rhythms. the cymbals is an important element in the orchestra bringing a very fast exciting beating at certain moments in the rounds of the melody. i kept close watch to the woman on my right to keep the right beat. i saw that for me it didn't make any difference if i was on the cymbals or the gamelon, the experience of playing this music together was what fulfilled my desire. each time i made a mistake i saw that i was cringing. no one seemed to mind the mistakes...as the entire atmosphere is one of laughing and teasing and pushing and playfulness, together with serious efforts by each participant to play her individual beat. several men, experienced gamelon players, were all "conducting" and helping different women play their parts. and even they were laughing as one was raising his hand for crescendo as the other one was doing the opposite! bali....a place where my desires are being realized. and i am grateful.

out of necessity

as i was walking by the fishermen this morning, i noticed a little plastic cup from some fast food that had been discarded on the sand, as usual, and as i passed it i was surprised to see a small fish inside it. i assume it would be bait for when they go out, and i thought to myself ; yes, all they ever have to do is just look around for what they need, and it is right there! and i am busy trying to make everything nice and clean...

as i continued to walk on the path i saw some young children busy getting their kites up into the air, and again was amused to see that they weren't store bought kites. they had made them out of bamboo sticks and discarded plastic bags...all found along the beach and pathways.

next i smiled as some other little boys were busy climbing up a coconut tree that was at a 45 degree angle. i thought, oh, how cute, they are pretending to be coconut pickers...but a few seconds later i realized that it was their official "slide", since there are no playgrounds here. it was perfect for them just like kids in any sandbox climbing up and sliding down...just on a coconut trunk!

i continued on to see if i could find out from a villager when the womens gamelon band would be practicing for the big three day ceremony that will take place next week at one of the temples. i had asked madeh to please write down on a piece of paper the necessary questions, since my indonesian is not that good yet. where will they practice, what day and what time. i was surprised to see that with pen and paper in hand (i gave it to him) it was not as simple as i thought. even though i had repeated the 3 things i need to know: where, what day, and what time? he took a very long time to write it. i realized that pens, paper, and writing "notes" is not something that is done here. and when i got to the womens house, i presented the note to her, and even reading it took a long long time...just a few sentences...and then she gave it to her husband to read too....and he used to work in a bank, so he is used to paper and the written word. but he too slowly read each word until he finished the note and answered me.

what unfolded next was that she started humming a temple tune, as we sat quietly next to each other on her veranda. and then she lifted up her left hand and with the index finger on her right hand she started to touch each finger, as if it was a chime of the gamelon. i suddenly realized she was giving me my first gamelon lesson, since she didn't have an actual gamelon at home, we were using fingers! brilliant!

it was just as tricky and difficult as if it was on the gamelon. but she is a 70 year old teacher of balinese classical dance and also gamelon, and knew exactly how to teach me. she continued to hum and tap on each finger that represented the different notes of the song with the typical balinese rhythm that always surprises you since it doesn't make any sense to the western mind. i began to sing along with her, "playing" on my left hand, copying each movement she made. we must have done this little song about 20 times until i "got it". the joy of playing the tune was as wonderful as if i had been playing the gamelon. i think it is just the scale and the rhythms that just open up my heart whenever i hear them. i thought i would try and show her that i already know it by heart, but then i thought; she is the teacher, you are the student, just continue following her lead. you don't have to impress her, you don't have to rush, just let it sink in, no mind. just letting the body feel it and absorb it organically. again, if i missed a note, there was no going back and repeating it...the beat goes on and you just have to catch up and try again the next round to get it right. and since there is no beginning or end, we just "played" and played. it was lovely. she told her husband that i learn quickly and he offered to bring a family gamelon over so that she could teach me. what a surprise! i thanked them profusely and then tried to explain "i, no , rupiah" (forgetting that i know the words for "have" and 'money") and then he said " no, no , you do not have to pay for lessons." ah....so nice...thank you.

she continued and taught me another song, which i quickly picked up on my hands. but she was concerned since it had 6 notes, and she only had 5 fingers to play on....naturally she just played on the "air" for the 6th note, but after a few times she took my left hand into hers' and used my thumb for the 6th note, and then was satisfied. she is a lovely lovely woman, and the top classical balinese dancer of bali, and she and her husband have aged very gracefully.

i felt that i had been there long enough and that i had learnt so much already, that i initiated ending the visit. i thanked her and said goodbye. and as i walked away she started humming out the first melody again and playing it on her hand, pantomiming for me that that is my homework! of course i had already forgotten it, after playing the second song, but decided to make an effort. so the whole 15 minute walk home i continued to hum and play on my fingers until i could reach my room and jot it down in some kind of symbols so i could remember it for next time. i know that is totally unnecessary...that either my body will remember it, or she will just teach it to me again.

that is the way i play the onkelon too. i just let my body "recall" the sounds and my hands are suddenly playing the songs. if i try and remember or recognize what the series of notes is, i have ruined the magic. can i just flow with them, in the way that they teach and learn, and let go of my western mentality?

as i returned to my resort, i saw the young "builder" and his assistant, looking at the bamboo plant that was growing by the entrance. i wondered what they were looking at. and a few minutes later they were sawing down a few lovely tall stalks, which later became the beautiful bamboo frames and poles for the new signs for the resort. i laughed. i knew the owners wanted the sign from bamboo, but it didn't dawn on me that they would just look around the garden for the materials. and within hours the builder, who is really an artist, had already crafted one of the 5 signs that were being made. he gets paid $4 a day for his beautiful workmanship, whether building the new bamboo spa, or making the frames, or building the yoga pavillion. he works slow, quiet, sitting perfectly upright, like i have never seen anyone sit.

i thought i could help him out and i would prepare the thatch roof from the coconut leaves. i asked madeh if i could. he hesitated. i asked "is it mens' work?" "yes, but you can try if you like". so he brought me 3 big coconut branches that were over 2 meters long, and taught me how the leaves are pulled and then turned around so that in the end you have a kind of two layered flat surface that can be used for roofs or walls. like any craftsman, madeh did it at lightening speed, compared to me, fumbling around until i figured out that the baby finger does all the work. after 2 leaves i decided to leave it for the men....and to use my hands for the ladies crafts which i had tried the day before.

i had visited my adopted family and the mother and 3 daughters (13,9, and 6) were all sitting around preparing the numerous little trays and cups and baskets and decorations from the coconut and banana leaves. the mother held the knife in her experienced fingers and whittled away at the layers of narrow leaves that would soon look like intricate and delicate paper cut designs. then thin sticks of bamboo would be used as the little "pins" to keep it all in place. what was new for me was realizing that the "backbone" of the leaf, which would be sliced off and discarded, for certain designs, would later be gathered up and become the new broom for the household! i was so happy to see that nothing gets wasted, and that with all the ceremonial preparations going on every week, brooms for the non stop sweeping that is done all day, are just a by product, and are "custom made" by each person so it is just the thickness that their hand can grasp. and by the frequency of sweeping and ceremonies, there is always a broom being made just as the old one has gotten a bit flimsy.

the day ended with me recognizing the woman that was having a little picnic with her family on the shore in front of the resort. that is rare that someone comes and sits there, and i thought it must be the woman that i taught to hoola hoop two days ago, that wanted to teach her kids too, or something. i smiled and walked over with 3 hoola hoops and offered them to them, but no one was interested. oops, guess it isn't the woman i thought it was. (just like they think that all westerners look alike, it is often hard for me to remember how they look...). then after a minute the woman, who still looked so familiar, got up and decided to try. she was managing, slowly. her 13 year old daughter took one and immediately "got it". and after about 15 minutes of watching, the husband took the third one and was a real pro right from the start. we were all laughing and having a good time, even though the wife just couldn't do more than a few rounds without it falling. i usually let people learn at their own pace and use as few words as possible, since the body just knows through allowing it. but her husband started explaining to her how to do it and suddenly she was hooping without it falling! she was so excited that....yes folks....i saw it with my own two eyes....a sight unseen of here in bali amongst the villagers, until this moment in time, of having been taught by her sweet hubby how to succeed at hooping.....she.....gave a shout of joy, jumped in the air, threw the hoop on the sand, and ran over to him and jumped on him and gave him a hug!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

until now i have never seen a balinese show an expression of excitement. they are very self contained and balanced, neither showing great excitement or grief. and i have yet to see a husband and wife have physical contact with each other in public. i was so happy to see the fun and joy that hooping brings to the world. and they asked if they can come again! and in the end he told me that he is madehs younger brother....and suddenly i remembered why she looked so familiar....because i had been at madehs helping making ceremonial offerings when he had a baby ceremony, and she was the "sister-in-law" that was very kind to me a month ago. and around we go...

collecting garbage

i am staying at a small place on the north east coast of bali. to reach the resort you need to either drive down one of two paved paths through the village towards the sea and turn through a small flowing stream and then through a coconut grove past the fishing boats and then park underneath the big tree near the little warung (kiosk), then walk past the warung, bale (small platform with thatch roof), a fishermans' shack, a small temple and then the resort which has a small dirt path running in front of it with coconut trees and fishing boats separating it from the shore. or, you can drive down the other paved path from the main road as it turns through some small warungs, market, houses, thru orchards past the temple and suddenly ends with three steps leading down to the sea, and to the left, past the running stream that changes its size and shape all day and everyday and past some fishing boats, to the gate of the resort. both of these options have been cluttered with candy wrappers, empty cigarette boxes, plastic bags with straws discarded after drinking the colored water, water bottles, incense wrappers, broken thongs, and plastic bags of every size and shape. the resort owners have heard numerous times the response of guests about how beautiful it all is, if only there wasn't so much garbage all around.

when i came here this time i was ready to give back to bali in return for receiving so much from her. so i thought i would clean up the rubbish along the beach everyday. i thought that was simple enough, but slowly the stares, comments in balinese, giggles, and bewilderment cast a shadow on my innocent intention. what for me seemed so obvious, was not obvious to the villagers. i started wondering if instead of giving back to bali something from my heart, i am actually hurting their hearts by trying to "fix" what is already perfect in their eyes, just because of my western preconceptions. how not to be called "arrogant" if after a ceremony, when everyone has left their plastic wrappers from incense, holy water, cakes,flowers, cigarettes, water cups, strewn in front of the temple grounds, you ask them to clean it up, since it is next to the resort?

i tried different tactics; going out early in the morning before they are out and about so that they won't notice...but they are out and about at 4 a.m. so that didn't work. tried to do it just in "public" areas like the beach, and not in front of the warung or their shacks...but this is still their place and i again feared i was insulting them by picking up their cigarette box that they had just thrown on the ground. a few gave me a thumbs up or a smile or bent down and added a scrap of plastic to my big sack too. and slowly slowly over the month 8 big sacks of little scraps of plastic and rubber and metal had been collected and were piled in a space near some trees for some eventual collection by someone....

i also tried to figure out what my answer will be if someone asks me why i am doing it....since i saw children asking their mothers or fathers "what is she doing?". will i say that it is just prettier to look at? (which for me really was the incentive, since i definitely differentiate between aluminum candy wrappers and plastic bags in the middle of a grassy field, or just a grassy field). so then i was imposing my sense of beauty on nature according to my western standards of beauty. or am i doing it because i have snorkeled and seen what happens to the corals and the seafloor with the rubbish? (but in fact there wasn't the slightest correlation between 8 bags of plastic in a month, and 4 pieces of plastic i saw when snorkeling!).

i asked myself if i am trying to change them? to instill new behavior patterns in a manipulative way? shaming them? but i saw that i was perfectly content picking up rubbish every day from the same places, without any expectation or need that there wouldn't or shouldn't be rubbish thrown where i had just cleaned the day before. it was simply a peaceful and interesting activity to do every morning as the sun rose and definitely gave a sense of satisfaction after having struggled with the bamboo pole with a dull (ugh) nail on the end of it trying to pick up a wrapper from a mint candy and after an hour having a sack full just from those little bits and pieces that no one would even bother to bend over to pick up (and often, when i would try and "nail them" it would take 3-4 attempts as "little elves" played tricks on me by pushing the little plastic wrapper onto the ground again before it reached my open sack, and then tempting me to just leave it after the 3rd attempt!)

also questions arose as to is it really the truth? is this plastic destructive to nature? i had my doubts. it seemed like the sea was doing a pretty good job with the ebb and flow of naturally covering up with tons of sand all the rubbish at dusk that it had just spit out onto the shore at dawn....or that the plastic bags that on the dirt path had slowly turned into the path too, or the pieces stuck in the field were pretty disintegrated while i tried to lift them up from the rich earth and put them in their proper place; the garbage sack. and the waterways that traveled through the village were practically knee deep in plastic and leaves that seemed to be slowly decaying into the earth with the help of the wind and rain or water without human intervention.

more questions arose for me when i saw fishermen making bonfires every morning at dawn along the shore, and it was not for frying fish, but rather for burning the rubbish that the tide had brought in along with the leaves that had fallen about, and the odd lost flip flop or fast food containers and instant coffee wrappers and cigarette boxes. if they already had a working system of keeping the rubbish under control, why is mine better? who asked me to improve it? why am i picking about around their boats? here, little piles of rubbish are being taken care of by them, in front of their houses, boats, orchards, roadside....so why is it better to collect it all and then have huge quantities burnt in some garbage dump? if the dioxide fumes are so dangerous from the plastic, then why would i want huge quantities that i had collected, be burnt in the garbage dump causing the same ecological damage?

i tried asking people for answers. one was that the plastic does disintegrate, either from the fire or in the sea, but it turns into little particles that the fish then eat, and then we eat the fish...mmm...(sounds fishy)...another was that the plastic laying in these streams and sea does not allow the water to breath and thus the dangerous and "can be fatal" dengay mosquito has a good breeding ground, along with other health hazards. those two seemed to be my calling card. i could feel justified and correct in wanting to allow all of us to eat healthy fish and not be threatened by dangerous mosquitoes in this area which has so far been safe from them.

and just as i was discussing the option with the owner that i may just stop, since their approach may be the right one for them and what is the point in collecting so many bags of plastic, i saw the gardeners carrying big sacks of rubbish that had been collected at the resort 2 years ago in the initial attempt to keep it "clean and green", but had been stored at the resort all this time. "what are you doing?!" i asked. and he said " the garbage collectors have come to collect the garbage."

what?!@%*& garbage collectors?@!$%& since when does tejakula have garbage collectors? "since today! every saturday morning they will come and collect the garbage from us." i was so excited that i ran out the gate to see it happening. yep, there they have a little truck and they are heaping it on! i ran to get my camera from my room and hoped they wouldn't be gone by the time i got back. i excitedly began to document the first garbage collection in the village of 11,000 residents of tejakula! all my intentions and efforts had paid off! the energy was in the air! it was happening! tejakula was actually going to become "clean and green" and not just have banners proclaiming their new motto along the main road! i just stood there smiling and photographing. and then thought i would get one from the front too....and how i laughed when i went around the front of the "truck" and realized that it was just a little motorbike they had attached a big wagon too. this was the first garbage "truck" for the village, with 2 paid workers that seemed content with their lot; just like where i live in israel, there is a "driver" who just sits and waits until the "worker"
has dumped all of the garbage into the truck and then he can press on the gas and go to the next stop.


i would like to believe that the villagers can sense the pleasure from hanging out on the beach, or meeting at the local club, or walking into the temple which is no longer cluttered with plastic and aluminum wrappers (although there was something "magical" about the sun shining and reflecting on them!). and at best, i just continue to give them a good laugh when they see that crazy westerner picking up plastic that would eventually recycle itself...just not in that speedy way that westerners like to do things, but in a greater slower cycle of creation, existence, destruction, and rebirth which is their asian outlook.