"have you showered yet?"

Ketut has a friend from work who is also a doctor and stops by about once a week ever since he went through his family crisis. She comes over just to play badminton or laugh together. So we met a few days after I arrived when she stopped by the house with her two young sons to socialize. She doesn't know English, and so we just kind of smiled at each other and that was that. She had come to visit him, so I didn't make an effort at conversation and just let them have their time together and I sat on the side.. After about the fourth visit ketut made a point to tell me that she apologizes that she cannot speak with me because she would really like to get to know me but her English is very poor. So…when she came by yesterday I decided to start up a conversation, since I do know some Indonesian, and can usually get my point across.

After we sat next to each other on the porch and smiled back and forth a few times I decided to start up a conversation. Since the kids were on the street lighting firecrackers and fireworks, as usual each evening a month before new years eve, I thought it was a good topic to discuss; especially since her older boys were doing dangerous moves around the lit fireworks and I wondered if they knew the danger. i asked if they light them all the time now too and am surprised that none of the adults are paying attention. Her response was; "have you showered yet?"

I was baffled by it. Wondered whether I smell bad even though I had just showered an hour before, and why was she asking me if I had showered as a response to adult involvement in the childrens' dangerous playing around? After a moment I answered that yes, I had showered. Silence. A few minutes later they left. I turned towards the 15 year old girl that I live with and that speaks English and asked her, why did she ask me if I had showered?! Her answer was that there are usually two questions Balinese ask when they want to start a polite conversation; have you showered? And have you eaten?

I laughed! Just the other night one of the sister in laws, that I know for years already but have never spoken to because I was told she doesn't know English, was sitting next to me on the floor as we watched the children playing. I felt quite comfortable just sitting there in silence with her. I have learnt how to do that here. But after about 15 minutes of silence and smiles, she suddenly turned to me and asked me in English, if I had eaten already? (it was nine thirty at night). I said yes, (since I usually just eat lunch) and then we continued to sit in silence again. Now I understood that she was "making polite conversation" with me!

Language here in general is a funny mixture, since Indonesian is the official language, but the Balinese have their own balinese language that they speak among themselves, so it is hard to learn Indonesian since you don't really hear it spoken.  Quite often I hear them mumble something barely audible and the other person answers! It even happened a while ago that the coconut grating machine was going full blast, ketut was driving by on his motorbike, and I was standing next to his mother, some 20 meters from him as he drove by, and she mumbled so quietly about 2 words. Ketut heard them, stopped his motorbike, looked at her, she again spoke in a hushed tone, and he drove off. I thought "what was that all about?!" no way could he have heard what she said, if I couldn't and I was standing next to her!

Later I decided to ask him how it is possible that the Balinese speak to each other in little grunts or short one syllable whispers and are understood?  He just laughed a kind of naughty laugh. And I dared to ask if maybe they are communicating on a telepathic level, and that the actual moving of the mouth is just a show, but that they don't really need the sounds? He didn't deny it, but didn't affirm it either. But the more I am here, the more I see how strong the third eye is, that their telepathic communication is very strong and that so much of life seems to be going on without much speaking, but still communicating.

I find myself busy explaining in my childlike Indonesian and pantomime, so many things to the kids as we spend our days together cooking, playing, drawing, etc. I am warning them of the danger of the hot pots and leaking gas or hot oil splashing, and sharp knives or throwing pencils and the lead breaks and more. And It is becoming more and more apparent that I am in the minority. If the adults do say something it is usually yes….sometimes no….and lots of laughs. When the young four year old is having a temper tantrum because he cannot have his uncles cell phone to play a game on, no one explains that the battery is low and that if the child uses it then the uncle will not be able to send or receive calls now, or that if the kids are standing close to the firecrackers they can burn themselves, or why it is important to clean up after playing a game. I asked ketut why he doesn't explain things, but just let's his son cry or ignores him. He said that the child learns deeper within if he feels the emotion and searches within for the answer. Then it is an integral lesson. But if the father just explains on a mental plane to the child, he may remember it for a short time span, but has not really experienced the lesson, so there is no reason to speak, but rather to let the child burn his finger on the lit incense stick and then he will "know" what happens when you touch something hot. I realized there is a lot of truth in what he said, because I see that each time I learn the lesson the hard way….stubbing my toe, cutting my finger, etc. when I do the same activity later, I now know what I must be careful of if I don't want to hurt myself again.

so…."have you showered yet?"

the floodgates open

The chanting and the recorded gamelon music begins at the main temple of the village at five a.m. and lasts for thirty minutes. This morning I could still hear it in the forest at six thirty, and assumed something was going on today. I asked ketut, and he thought a moment and then said "oh, yes." And told me the name of the holy day which symbolizes the opening of the gates to the gods again, after they closed on the tenth day over a month ago, which symbolized them returning to the heavens after residing down here with us. Now the floodgates were opened again and people could begin to have ceremonies, weddings and celebrations again as the gods were available to preside. The Balinese month is 35 days, and so this was exactly a month after the last celebration.  And we would be going in the afternoon to the family temple in the village today to make the monthly offerings…a small gathering of the neighbors, which gives energy to the temple and surroundings on a regular basis and unites everybody for a higher purpose.

I told ketut that I was going to go get some rice and soap at the local shop and would be back in a little while. He suggested that if I am already going to walk, after having been homebound for a few weeks, that I should walk to the beach. "It is better for you to go to the beach today. And also better for the universe on this day to go to the beach. I will buy the rice and detergent for you." I thanked him and was happy at the idea of finally walking to the beach again. I had been careful how much I walked each day so that the different blisters and stubbed toe that were healing, could do so quickly and without infection. So now, doctors' orders to go to the beach! Great.

I walked through the narrow forest path which used to be a daily ritual, but now felt like a special treat. There was a silence in the air, and not a soul in sight even though it was already 7:30. When I arrived a few minutes later, I was so happy to again see the glittering sea reflecting the sunshine and the abandoned shore, a few fishermen out on their boats, and the tide far out at sea. I sat there for hours, just feeling the nice breeze, enjoying the shade of the huge trees, again in touch with the healing energy I feel there. He was right…the floodgates were open. I was so grateful that at least he had recognized how my soul needs the energy from the sea, and sent me there. I had gotten used to just being with the kids all day and doing the household chores, all enjoyable, but not alone and just to nourish me, like I used to do.

After a few hours I felt recharged and ready to return to daily life again. When I returned home the kids were just coming from school so it was perfect timing. We had our little cooking lesson of crepes and soup and then they began to draw in the sketch books I gave each of them. After a few minutes the little four year old, who a month ago was kicking the colored pencils and scribbling black angry marks on his pages, suddenly walked into the kitchen while telling me to close my eyes, one two three. At the count of three when I opened them, I saw a beautiful first drawing of a bright yellow sun that he showed me. My eyes glowed and my mouth dropped open in surprise at the positive changes he is going through during the month and a half we are together. I told him how beautiful it is. He quickly offered to teach me how to do it too, demonstrating in the air how to draw the big circle first and then each line. The television is off for hours, he is happy and laughing and joining in with the other kids, has learnt to be an excellent cook, loves riding his bicycle on the new road and enjoys cuddles and doing cartwheels and headstands!

The grandmother who lives on the compound, and is my age, has been sick for the whole month. Such a strong earth woman, suddenly just sitting quietly and staring out into nothingness. But today she sent me her delicious soup, came over a few times to see how the bale building was coming along and to speak with her grandchildren, Yes….the floodgates have opened. Things are in flow again.

the secret of the coconut

Ketut was standing over the sink washing something when I came into my domain, the kitchen. I wondered what he was doing there early in the morning. But as I got closer I saw he was washing some fresh chunks of fish. That was a nice surprise…he had been to the market and saw the nice tuna the fishermen had brought and decided to buy me some to make for my lunch. I was so happy since he knows about fish and how to pick the best ones. He suggested I make the fish patties that I like with the coconut. (my gefilte fish version) . when I told him I didn't have any fresh coconut he suggested he would climb the tree outside and bring me some too. I was especially pleased with his offer since I am never sure I am getting a fresh piece at the market, since I don't have much experience with fresh coconut.

A few minutes later he returned with a young coconut and poured me the delicious coconut water and then skillfully removed the inner shell. He handed me the grapefruit sized hollow  ball of coconut to grate. I was happy, but also knew I had to be cautious, since the grater is so sharp and I had already scraped my finger on it a few days ago. But loving the fish and coconut combination, I was willing to try again, carefully.

While I was busy grating it at a fast pace, ketut suddenly came into the kitchen straight from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He had heard me grating the coconut and was concerned that I know how to do it properly, and I guess the swift sound he heard lit a red light for him so he didn't want to waste any time to get dressed first. He smiled, seeing that, yes, I had placed the grater over the big tray like the Balinese do. But he saw I was struggling with a long straggly piece of coconut that was what was left from the first hunk I grated. Not one to want to throw it out or scrape my finger again trying to use as much of it as I could, I asked him how they do it.

"The secret is the triangle." Then he cut the rest of the coconut into large triangles. As he lifted one to the grater he continued. "one must not rush and one must not push". He proceeded to gently but firmly hold the triangle piece in his hand and at a slower rhythm and more relaxed pace and without so much effort, effortlessly grated the coconut. I laughed. So simple. So true. "if you push, it is more difficult, and if you rush, the coconut becomes slippery. And now, when you worry, that is when you turn the triangle piece in your hand and continue to grate the other angle of it, and when you begin to worry again that you might scrape your finger, that is when you again change the triangle and grate the other side." And that is how he continued, all the time keeping the coconut piece in his hand in the shape of a triangle, until it was the size of a fingernail. "and when this is all that is left, you stop, and eat it!"

I laughed and laughed the whole time. The secret of the coconut…." Don't rush, don't push, and when you begin to worry, change direction". I told him that that is great advice for life, not only for grating coconut! That going at a slower more peaceful pace, and being relaxed and allowing the coconut to "be grated" instead of "me grating the coconut", and that whenever I begin to worry I am going to harm myself if I continue doing what I am doing, I just have to change direction….and keep the perfect triangle always in balance and give myself a treat and eat what is too small to be of use.  When I looked at the coconut he had grated, it was smiling at me!  I guess the coconut likes it too when you know its' secret and everything is just in harmony….and no scraped fingers….

Not to rush, not to push and when you worry, change direction

working together

By coincidence a lot of building is going on around my house; a year old dirt road is being paved, and a self standing porch, kind of like a gazebo, is being built in our garden. So, lots of workers around. A lot of my day is spent sitting on the porch looking out at the forest, and doing whatever it is I am doing; drawing, eating, meditating, playing, making offerings, working on my laptop, playing the gamelon….and the workers were right there in front of me, so I was watching them most of the days they worked. I was also curious to see how craftsmen work, and also how Balinese work.

 A tall 30ish thin man had been hired to build the foundation for the bale.. He is called "the craftsman". All men who are craftsmen (and there are only men) are called "tucan" (craftsman).  That is their name. Period. He came on his motorbike along with an older man (70) who was his uncle and assistant. He was the craftsman for building the cement raised foundation for the carpenter who was making the bale. He was shown a very very simple sketch of the planned bale, and the measurements of the two steps. Period.  The local hardware store had brought the truckloads of sand, bags of cement, and cement blocks needed. The person who shoveled all of the sand into and out of the truck was an older woman. The owner and driver of the truck sat and smoked a cigarette while she worked vigorously and professionally. She probably receives about $3 for an 8 hour day of hard physical labor….and is probably in her 50's.

These were local people, called a day or two beforehand and asked to do the work. This is how the people live here…from day to day. Happily they were available and began to work. The week the two of them spent in the front yard working from 7-11 (at which point they go home to eat and rest) and return again from 12 -5, was typical of the Balinese work ethic. On arrival they are served a glass of instant coffee, at 10 they are given a second glass along with something sweet (the kids and I made them crepes everyday), and then another glass of coffee in the afternoon, for another 5 minute break. At 11 and at 5 they just leave, no matter how much work is left to do. Period. A metal teapot is filled with water and a glass covering the spout, and is at their disposal during their work day.

What was especially interesting was that they worked in silence. At first a few people tried to speak with the older man, but he just continued doing whatever he was doing, regardless of their comments to him to turn off the water, or where the shovel was or whatever. Within a few minutes it became clear to me that he was deaf. It was so interesting watching him work long hours carrying heavy buckets of cement back and forth, or bricks to the site, at a steady pace regardless of his age. The tucan and him worked in perfect harmony, with a few hand movements between them to instruct the deaf man what was needed next. The tucan worked in a squatted position for almost all of the 9 hours of work, as did the older man when he wasn't busy carrying.

It was lovely to see the quiet efficient and thoughtful attitude they had as they worked together in harmony. It was especially nice to see the seventy year old, still feeling worthwhile in society and with what to do each day, and able to earn $4 a day too. The tucan received $10 since he is the craftsman.

The final stages of their work included stepping stones and a sidewalk connecting the site to the already existing paths on the grounds. I had collected glass shards and sea shells at the sea over the past year and would use them to create mandalas on the front porch everyday with the kids. At the end of the evening we would put them all back in our shard/shell box in order to create new mandalas the following day. I had envisioned finding a way to make some of the creations permanent works of art for someone that would want them in their house. And now came the opportunity to use them as the stepping stones and path! I was happy to be part of the creative process.

The kids and I planned out a few designs, and I was happy that the grandmother, in her own silent way, also started to play with the shards on the day before we were going to place them in the cement stepping stones. I was so excited that she would be part of our creation. She had seen me doing the mandalas for months, but was never interested in them. I asked her to create something that we could make a stepping stone from. As I watched her mulling through the bamboo box full of shards and shells, I wondered what she would make. She worked in silence and no matter how hard I tried, I could find no rhyme or reason or pattern to what she was doing. The kids and I were much more conservative, doing symmetrical designs in circles or squares with color combinations, etc. Hers' was an amorphous shape with random colored glass shards. Only after she placed some ceramic shards totally beyond the 40 x 40 square tile of the porch floor that we would make our designs on, did I realize that she had made a magnificent tree, with roots and all! Of course! She was mother earth! Her life was the trees in the forest. She tended them like children, made the brooms from their leaves, built her fire from their wood and sold their fruits to support them. She had not been feeling well for over a month now and it was sad to see how the light in her eyes was fading as she could no longer walk through the trees in the forest everyday because of the pain in her leg. And now, even though she was still weak and resting, it was the tree that was her expression of creativity.

When it came time for the tucan to make the stepping stones, he diligently placed each and every shell and shard just the way we had planned them. My fingers were "itching" to create more and more of my own creations that would be permanent pathways. It was hard to let go of my ego and allow the others a fair share of stepping stones and to accept their reality and style of creativity. I wondered how the tucan was able to be totally at our service without a suggestion or personal expression of his own.

The day they finished the foundation, along came the 15 men building the 2 kilometer road, in front of our house. They had now reached our area. It was wonderful seeing all these men from the forest working together. The government was paying 2 salaries to the tucans that were paving the cement path, and another $5 a day to some of the resident workers, along with the cement, and a cement mixer that looked like it was from the 60's. But beggars can't be choosers. Having a paved road through the forest would enable the residents to have easier access to sell their produce and would enable a smoother ride on their motorbikes instead of the rugged path they had been using till now.

The men were between 25- 70 years old in all shapes and sizes. A schedule had been made for all the male residents in the area to help them pave the road. volunteering at least once a week;, shoveling, carrying, mixing and pouring the cement. They laughed a lot. They worked in harmony like a dance troupe, efficiently and enthusiastically. I imagined that if a needed road was being built in my community in Israel, it would probably resemble this style of male activity too.

What touched me most was the day after they had paved the path in front of our house, I was placing the morning offerings at the entrance to our property, and noticed a small flower offering and incense placed at the edge of the completed part of the new road! I was so surprised. Who had put it there? I asked my friend and he said that the tucan placed it there and also on the cement mixer each day before they start work in order to show gratitude for the safe building each day of the additional paved section and for the cement mixer that worked each day and served them in their goal. This typical and natural gesture of recognizing a Higher Force, beyond my own personal agenda of work, life, activity, that was "running the show" here, and that nothing was taken for granted, summed up for me the essence of the Balinese.

There also seems to be a very real and natural flow with the trilogy of creation, preservation and transformation (birth,life, death). As I traveled on the main road to the nearby city the other day I marveled at the constant state of construction going on. There are no slums or wealthy neighborhoods…everything is just torn down and rebuilt again whenever it falls apart or there is enough money to improve it. No big deal…just a sledge hammer and down comes everything, and they build it up again, bigger and better; temples, homes, businesses, schools, offices. I think it is also part of not taking life too seriously. That all of life is in a constant state of passing from creation to preservation to transformation….and it is no big deal. There isn't even the preconceived idea that something is going to be permanent. Even the road being paved in front of the house! My friend said that it will probably need to be paved a few times over the next five years until it will be a good road. I laughed! "Why?!"  "Because the government gave funds, but the amount that actually reached the village, after all of the beauracracy, is much less than needed, so the road will not be built well and will not last long and will need to be repaired several times. But in the end it will be a good road." So there isn't even an expectation that things will be perfect and last….it is just accepting life on lifes' terms and enjoying it. It reminded me of an astrological overview of my sign that said that I take things very seriously and life becomes a drama, and that I can change it into a comedy instead. It seems like that is what they do here…They accept that this is the way things are, so we may as well accept them and laugh about them instead of worry and be angry and disappointed. And this is how they all seem to work together, smiling, laughing and not taking things too seriously….including all the dog footprints on the newly paved road.