Back in Time

From my journal, dated May 17, 2011

Ubud, Bali

The sun rises and so do I. I bath my body and scent it with oils of lavender and lemon. I put the water on to boil and create today's tea: rosella flowers, lemongrass, ginger, palm sugar and cinnamon.

I dress and brush my teeth, turn on the fountain in the garden and roll out my yoga mat. 

I begin to stretch and move my somewhat stiff body after many hours of lying still in sleep. I think about my dreams of the night before. 

The garden

The people of my village are awake and active at this early hour. Roosters are crowing, dogs are barking and people are making their way to the market to sell their fruit and vegetables. They carry great piles of green leafy spinach, bananas and heavy coconuts on their heads as they walk the mile into town. 

At the small village temple next door there is constant construction. Across the road, the rice farmers in their bamboo hats begin to plant and harvest the rice, depending on the time in the three month cycle. They heard large groups of ducks into the fields, shepherding them with a long bamboo pole with a piece of cloth tied to the end. This way they can lift up the pole to warn motorists to watch out for the ducks as they cross the road. The ducks are very important to the rice farmers and to the rice crops. They eat bugs and weeds that would harm the rice plants, and naturally aerate the soil with their little duck feet. 

The fountain in the garden

At 7 am people begin to arrive at my home. RJ from London; a dear friend and confidant, Marcia from Portugal; my soul sister, teacher and gifted healer, Ketut and her husband Putu, brother in law Gede, and Komang and Mira, all from Ubud. 

We spend an hour chanting sanskrit verses and in meditation. It is an incredibly powerful practice and I am so grateful for it. The energy of having many people in the same room meditating is greatly magnified. I have never before practiced meditation on a consistent basis, and I am amazed at the many positive things it has brought to my life. 

My alter

After meditation, I lead the group in an hour and a half yoga practice. I am learning so much from this group of people and so grateful for this practice. 

When we finish, we share hot tea and fruit and finish by 10. 

My house

This day is a busy one; I have an appointment with Nyoman to get my new tattoo, bahasa Indonesian lessons, and dinner with a friend. In between I sneak into a spa and get some much needed waxing. I find on this day that with the removal of body hair comes an incredible lightness of being :)

Nyoman - creating my new tattoo

There once was a girl who went to Bali

There once was a girl, who at the tender age of 47 went to the island of Bali and she forgot to go home. 

She was enchanted and held by this magical place and could not bring herself to leave. She knew there was something important here that she must do.

She spent her days with the Balinese people, learning the language and the culture. She was invited to ceremonies for tooth filings, cremations, weddings, for the a girls first menstruation, for the first time a baby touches the ground at 6 months of age, blessings of animals and of all things mechanical, ceremonies honoring Dewi Sri, the goddess of the rice fields and Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge and learning.

She was given the name Ketut Ayu. Ketut is the fourth child in a family and Ayu means beautiful.

She went on many adventures around the island. Trips to the ocean to snorkel and swim, to blissful waterfalls and sacred streams, she explored wondrous volcanoes and sumptuous temples with names like The Full Moon Temple, The Bat Cave Temple, The Elephant Cave Temple, Tirta Empul, and the most important Besaki – The Mother Temple in the center of Bali.

She learned to meditate and pray and to teach yoga. And she made many friendships to last a lifetime. She learned tantric breathing and energy healing and she was fully present and more alive than ever.

She lived in the rhythm of her village life. Up with the sun, asleep with the nightfall. The concept of time did not really exist. It is measured in Bali by a “rubber watch”, meaning that time is flexible and expandable and no one is confined by it.

Her home in Bali was a former wig factory that had been made into a beautiful feminine space, complete with brilliant colored fabrics, many soft cushions and a sweet little kitchen where she loved to cook and make special teas. The fountain in the middle of the garden was a gorgeous nude goddess who inspired her each day.

And the people came every morning at 7 am. They would pick flowers from the garden and together offer them to Saraswati and ask for her blessings. They would meditate and share a yoga practice. Life was very peaceful and beautiful.

She wore flowers in her hair and used them each day in her offerings, in her tea, in her bath and to decorate her motorbike. She was creative and expressive and she was radiating the beauty that surrounded her. 

She hung out at the small warungs (cafes) with her Balinese friends and at the tailor shop drinking strong coffee and eating sweet rice while practicing Indonesian and English with Ibu Made.

She volunteered at Sari Hati school for disabled children and she was filled with immense joy at the sight of this very special group of kids. Komang would do card tricks and read her palm and teach her to play drums from his wheelchair seat.

She went to see Balinese healers who would poke her feet with sticks and spread herbs and holy water on her and interpret her dreams.

She lived her home with butterflies and bats, frogs and snakes, stray dogs and cats and an extended gecko family.

She lived in complete harmony with nature and the people and the beauty of the island.

And one day, to her surprise, seven months had passed. And it was time to go home. She went with a joy in heart and the knowledge that she would return to Bali someday soon. 

Terimakasi banyak, Ibu Bali.

This little piggy went to the ceremony

Early this morning as I drink my tea and watch the new day unfold, I hear strange sounds coming from the temple next door. Lots of rustling around, and men with raised voices, which is a very unusual occurrence. The multiple dogs in the compound begin to bark and whine. And then I hear a high picked squeal that can only come from a pig. More yelling from the men. One more squeal from the pig and I finally realize what's happening.

Soon 4 men come out of the compound with a 300 pound pig tied to a bamboo pole, carrying it on their shoulders. They look happy as they heave the large (rather dead) animal into the back of the truck and drive away.

They will use the pig in one of many large temple ceremonies that happen here on a daily basis. They will use every part of the pig to celebrate a wedding or a blessing of some kind.

The blood of the pig is used to make a special Balinese dish called "lawar". It is mixed with vegetables and spices after the vegetables are cooked and happily eaten by all the people at the ceremony.

If you want to make lawar and don't happen to have a pig to kill for this purpose, you can easily purchase pig blood at the local market.

This culture continues to fascinate and enchant me every day....

Some Funny/Interesting Things About Bali

1) In Bali, a cell phone is a way of life. It is called a "hand phone" or "hp". People use it to text or "sms" as a way to communicate. Few people make actual calls. Phones run on a pay-as-you-go system. The credit is called "pulsa". When you run out of pulsa you must go to a small kiosk and get more added to your account. I got an sms from a friend one day that said "I have no pulse". A very funny mistake.

2) a bicycle is called a "push bike"

3) when you buy veggies or fruit in the supermarket, you must first take them to the veggie guy to weigh, bag, and put a price tag on before going to the check out.

4) if the cashier does not have "small money" to make change, they give you a little candy mint instead. But when I try to use this same mint to pay for my groceries the next time, they won't take it. :)

5) a bottle of water costs me around 6,000 rupiah. My rent is 4 million rupiah per month. My motorbike costs me 700,000 a month. All those zeros take some getting used to.

6) There are temple ceremonies happening each day for things like blessing of anything mechanical, blessing of the rice fields, blessing of the animals, blessing of the time a baby first touches the ground at 6 months old, or blessing of a girls first menstruation, blessing of a new house or business, full moon ceremonies along with hundreds of others. When ceremonies take place, people cannot come to work so a shop or office just closes.

7) Everyone in Bali celebrates 2 birthdays a year, six months apart.

8) A person cannot move into a new house until the geckos, spiders and ants do. Nature gets the utmost respect.

9) The concept of time does not really exist in Bali. People say that time in Bali is measured by a "rubber watch" meaning that time is flexible and expandable and people are not confined by it.

10) when a baby is born, it is believed that the soul of a relative who has passed away is reborn into the baby.

11) I have never seen a Balinese person get angry or say a cross word.

12) I have never seen a Balinese with a cast or a bandage on. This is particularly surprising given the number of motorbikes that are ridden around each day.

13) If a Balinese person gets sick, they usually go to a healer instead of a doctor.

Purification

So many things have been happening here in my little house in Bali. I almost don’t know where to begin.

April 23 is the day of Saraswati, the Goddess of Knowledge and Learning. A huge day of festival and celebration here. My dear friend Ketut brings special flower offerings she made for the day. She tells me to gather all of my most important books and place the beautiful offerings on the books, light incense sticks and do my prayers of thanks. 

Later in the day, I accompany her to first her family temple, her village temple and her village priest’s home to bring offerings and pray. We are dressed in our finest sarong and kebaya, her driving the motorbike from place to place, me on the back, riding side-saddle with the basket of offerings delicately balanced on my head. Of course I hang on to it with both hands, very afraid that it would fall the ground spoiling all the precious contents. The women of Bali balance their whole lives on their heads, it seems with never a mishap.

The next morning my three friends and I meet Ketut at 4:30 so we can go to the beach for purification, along with hundreds of other Balinese people. Interestingly, this coincides with the Christian Easter Sunday and is a day of new beginnings.

We get to the beach before sunrise and join the many other people there. It feels like a fourth of July celebration. Everyone is happy and cheerful and the mood is light. We decide to do some yogic sun salutations and get many stares of delight. People are curious and happy about what we are doing and it feels very right. The glorious volcano, Mt. Agung is silhouetted against the sky as the sun rises behind it. The ocean waves reach toward us on the beach.

When the sun is up, we go to the car and collect our sarong and our flower offering baskets. We sit on the beach and pray while holding flowers at our forehead as the Balinese do. We pray for peace on the planet and for the continued sources of knowledge to come to us. Afterwards we go into the sacred ocean around the island of Bali and splash ourselves and feel clean and new.

We are back home by 8:30 am, stop for a delicious breakfast then head to Sunday morning dance class. After a shower and a rest, we meet up again and Ketut drives us to see a 25 year old woman priest, Ida Resi Alit. She is the only woman priest in Bali and she has an amazing story of how this journey has unfolded for her.

We sit on the porch of her remote village home and when she appears, it nearly takes my breath away. She is so beautiful. So delicate. Like a china doll. Her English is quite good and we have a wonderful conversation about her life and about her work. I could write a long story just about her, and plan to do so in the future.

There are about 20 people in attendance at her home and after a while she takes her place on a raised alter/platform in her family temple. She begins to pray and chant in the most beautiful voice. The voice she uses to pray is completely different than her speaking voice.

Families come forward to stand in front of her and as she prays and chants over them, she pours holy water on them from many vessels that are handed to her.  The water contains flowers and smells like I imagine heaven would smell.

When it is our turn, we approach the alter; Ketut, Putu, Simone and me. Risi begins to pray and chant as the water is poured. And I begin to cry. Softly at first and then I begin to sob. The more I cry, the more water she pours on me, and she tells me to just let it all go.

By the time she is finished, I am completely soaked and feel intensely clean and sparkly and very emotional. My friend Simone from San Francisco, standing next to me has a rather different experience. As the water was being poured onto her, she begins to laugh. Then the male priest with the big belly begins to laugh. As the water is poured, the laughter gets louder and louder. Like it was coming from way down in their toes. Soon everyone in the small temple is laughing along with us. 

It is a very special, very beautiful day of blessings in Bali.

catching up

I realize I haven't written for a while. I don't seem to get online much these days, as the days flow by and one melts easily into the next.

I have been enjoying my time immensely while trying to find my footing after a month of intense yoga training, but things are opening up and flowing in beautiful ways. I have begun to offer free yoga and chanting sessions at my home and it's turning into a wonderful thing. My friends come at 7 am and we begin our day with offerings and prayers to the gods and goddesses, followed by chanting/singing and then an hour of yoga. People seem to enjoy it and I know I adore it. The people who come are from Bali, Holland, Spain, Italy and England (so far). The things we do are a mix of Hindu and Balinese traditions and it feels very right.

Yesterday I went with my friend Ketut to her uncle's art gallery opening in the village of Gianyar. It was fantastic. It was held at her family home, where her uncle has created a gallery. There were at least a hundred people there, including some of the people from the royal family of Bali. There were dances, singing, so much food and of course wonderful art. Everyone was so kind to me and treated me like family too. People are shy to try and speak English with me, but they heartily encourage their children to have conversations with me to practice. I end up talking to teenagers a lot and it's great fun. I am learning Indonesian little by little and can have very basic conversations. I will sign up for a class at the local library to learn more.

Today I went on a very long motorbike ride with 4 of my dearest friends to Padang Bai, a beautiful beach town. We swam in the ocean, ate fresh fish cooked by a sweet woman there and laughed and talked a lot. It was so sweet because 3 of them will be leaving soon to go back to their countries. I have spent the most time with Maurizio, Marcia, Marie Jose and RJ and I will miss them a whole lot. But we have all agreed that we will meet again in Bali someday soon.

When I got back, sunburned and back throbbing from bouncing around on the pothole laden roadways, I quickly showered the sand off me, got dressed up in my finest sarong, sash and kebaya to go to the temple with my friend Donal. There is a huge 10 day celebration happening at one of the large temples here and it was fabulous. It's like a county fair. All kinds of food for sale, rides and balloons for the kids, vendors selling clothing, cheap toys and kitchenware. There were at least 1,000 people there if not more. Everyone is so welcoming and so delighted to see my in my traditional clothing. I lost my friend in the crowd, but a sweet family quickly took me under their wing and we went inside to pray together. I am not intimidated as I was at first, now that i know how it's done. I bought some flowers for offering, some incense and brought my beautiful metal dish with a lid which holds the offerings.

When we go inside the temple, we sit with hundreds of other people while the priest rings a bell and we go through the prayers, which include burning a stick of incense in front of me, waving flowers through the smoke and then holding them between my fingers at the top of my head as I silently pray. After each prayer, the flowers are placed in my hair, or behind my ear. It's such a beautiful thing to do.

After the prayers, the priest comes around with holy water and sprinkles it on us. Then we take three sips from our right hand and are given some rice which is placed on the forehead and on the throat. 

I continue to be amazed by the Balinese people and the rich culture that is here. They spend their whole lives in service to the gods which keep them healthy, happy, balanced, having good crops and nice animals and a good home, good business, among many other things.

The women carry huge baskets and towers of fruit on their heads as offerings. These are placed on the alter before the priest and after they are blessed they are taken home to be shared with family. The women are all dressed in their finest clothing and every one of them look like a goddess. Even the little girls. And the men all wear a sarong and cloth on their head. It's all so beautiful and everyone is always happy and smiling. I never see people get angry here and everyone helps each other in any way they can. I'd like to say it's a perfect society, but of course it's not.

The women in Bali do the bulk of the work, raising children, making offerings, running a business and doing all the manual labor like carrying loads of bricks and buckets of dirt on their heads at a construction site. Every Balinese woman I know is exhausted but she never shows it and never complains. They are incredible, strong woman and I admire them very much.

rainy days in Ubud and life after yoga training

I'm writing from a small warung (cafe) and watching the rain pour down again.....

It's been raining hard here the last few days. So hard that the streets are flooding at times. I waited out the storm yesterday at my friend's cafe and then drove through the light rain and water up to my knees at times to get home. I was so happy to be in my warm dry house all evening. I made some delicious food, did some reading and went to sleep early. I have been enjoying cooking so much. Last night I made a dish of vegetables, tofu and noodles in a sauce of coconut oil, ginger, chili, tumeric, sesame seeds and dry coconut. It was oh so divine. I enjoyed each mouthful and was very thankful for it.

My friend Cady from California has been staying with me for a few days, but is now gone for a few days with a friend in the North of Bali. She will return to Ubud and stay for another week.

Yesterday I was talking to my friend Sari and he asked me how things are going at the house. He asked if I felt good there and how my dreams are. I told him that I have had nothing but good feelings and good dreams since being in the house in Laplapan. Last night I had a wonderful dream about my grandma Reba. She and I were never very close and she passed away several years ago. It was a nice dream where she told me she is happy about what I'm doing and that all is well. Sari said that when a relative comes in a dream like that, looking healthy and happy, it means they are about to be reborn into the body of a child born into our family. I'm wondering now if anyone in my family is about to announce a pregnancy :)

He told me that when the current owner first bought the house, no one had lived in it for over 2 years. Sari spent the night there before any work had begun and he says that a beautiful woman dressed all in white came to him while he slept and told him she was sad that no one had been living there and no one had been making offerings to the gods. From that day on, he makes sure that offerings are made on a daily basis by his wife and by another woman in the neighborhood. Every day there are little offering baskets placed around the inside and outside of the home. They contain flowers, candies, rice and incense. They are so beautiful and it makes me feel comfortable and happy when I see them.

It has been one week since I completed my yoga training course. I have been trying to adjust and find my feet again in the "real" world outside of my little group that I spent so much time with in the last month. And I find that it's not easy. You would think that I would be in a state of bliss, filled with patience, gratitude and compassion. I feel that way when I do my morning practice for sure, but when I leave the house, I feel very impatient with other people. I am surprised by this, but I guess it's normal. I have been in an isolated world with like minded people all on the same journey for a month. Other people are in their worlds, doing their thing and it doesn't necessarily mesh with mine at the moment. I am still very much processing all the deep work I've done and it feels important to just stay with it, write a lot and let all the feelings come as they will. 

Puppies and Sacrifice in The Ring of Fire

There are a lot of dogs in Bali. 99% of them roam free and have no "owner". They eat out of the garbage and hang out in gangs. During the day they are nice, but at night they seem to turn wild and I don't trust them after dark. It seems like they get an attitude and think they own the place. Rabies is a problem in Bali and there is a campaign to get dogs vaccinated. Dogs that have had their shots wear a red ribbon on their necks. 

About a month after I moved in to my Bali house in the village of Laplapan, I come home one night to find a little scrawny puppy sitting on my doorstep. When I approach, he growls at me, but I can tell it is a growl of fear. I shoo him away and don't think about him until the next night when he is there again. Again he growls and again I shoo.

A few days later, he is in my house. He has gotten in through a hole in the fence, and since the house is open on the inside, he is in the living room. He sits and stares at me with his pitiful little face. He is so skinny and dirty and so malnourished that he doesn't have any hair. He looks like one of those hairless chihuahua pups. I talk to him and ask him where he's been. He doesn't answer. I get him some water and when I get near, he runs away. I can tell he has been beaten and is scared to death of humans. I leave the water for him and later I see that the bowl is empty. He comes day after day and sits. I feed him a few scraps but hesitate to give him too much because he cannot stay.

He lays there day after day getting skinnier and skinnier. I consider calling him "Gandhi" but decide to call him "Nyepi" after the silent holiday here in Bali, on which day he arrived at my door.

I realize I cannot sit and watch this dog wither in front of me so start to feed him some eggs and eventually break down and by some dog food at the market. Dog food is very expensive here, since there is no great need for it.

Soon, there is a thriving, happy puppy living with me. He is delightful and full of puppy life. He runs and jumps and playfully bites and frolics with the 3 year old daughter of the woman who cleans the house. He is a joy, but the whole time I am feeling a little uneasy about having Nyepi there because it's not my house and I don't want to leave him for the owner of the home after I move out.

As Nyepi grows and gets his energy, he becomes a real puppy and begins to chew on the the furniture and tear holes in the cushions. This feels like a final straw for me and I know I have to keep him outside. I have Sari come to repair the hole in the fence and put him out. Oh, the wailing and the crying..... He was totally incensed and cries and paws at the door. He could not believe what was happening in his little puppy world.

I continue to feed him outside but not as much. He stays by the front door and his little puppy friends come to play. I am amazed as I watch him interact and play and cannot believe the difference between him and his friends. They are all so unhealthy and full of fleas and bugs and have little fur. He is healthy and gorgeous.

After about two weeks of being outside, Nyepi is gone one day. I watch for him, but he doesn't return. I feel a mix and sadness and gladness about this turn of events. I am hoping that he has gone back to his mother and his dog friends in his own neighborhood.

One day, Sari asks me about the puppy. I tell him he is gone, and Sari shows a knowing, slight smile. "I think someone has taken him" he says. "Oh, great. Someone has taken him to live with them?" "No." Sari says, "someone has taken him to the temple". There are a few moments of silence as the reality of what he says sinks into me. My stomach drops. It feels like a punch with a big fist. Someone has taken him for a sacrifice, a practice that is still very much in use in Bali today as it has been for hundreds of years. Sari sees the horror on my face and he soothes me. "Please don't worry. This is very good karma for the puppy. He will come back as a human in the next life. This is a good thing."

I am still grappling with this experience and my feelings about it. It seems so terrible, but who am I to judge other cultures and the things they believe in, no matter how wrong they may seem to me? In the mind and practice of the Balinese, this was a great blessing to them and to the gods they work so hard every day to please.

Now when the other neighborhood dogs come around my house and look at me, I wonder what they are thinking. Do they think I am a terrible person for what I have done, fattening up a dog, making him attractive and a good candidate for a temple ceremony, or do they wish that they too could give the ultimate gift to the gods after having a delightful few weeks of sheer bliss in the home of an unknowing foreigner girl?

A yoga teacher graduate

Today is the last day of our month long training. So much to say once I process it all. I am so grateful for this experience and know now that this is why I came to Bali.

It's about so much more than postures. It's about a way of life, of taking care of our bodies, of the way we move about in the world.

Up until now I have just taken classes. I have never delved into the origins of yoga and known how it came about from the original teachings in India. And I have only just scratched the surface.....there is so much to know and I could be studying for the rest of my life and never know it all. It's fascinating and it makes so much sense.

Tonight we will celebrate with food and music and dancing and joy. I will miss my 5:30 mornings with a group of like minded souls. But I plan to carry forward all that I have learned and practice each day and grow and learn as much as possible. I will live with a yoga heart full of love and compassion. There are definitely challenges along the way, but now I see them as a chance to practice.

Om shanti. (translated means PEACE)

My free day

I had a lovely day of rest from yoga training on Saturday. Wendy and I went to the organic farmer's market and picked up some wonderful food. We had lunch at my friend Ketut's small cafe and then went for a swim at a local hotel. In the afternoon we went with my friend, the wonderful artist Ketut Budiana to a yoga class in Seminyak, about 45 minutes away from Ubud. The class was taught in Indonesian and was wonderful. We practiced in a local park, in front of a gorgeous museum. The large park was full of Indonesians playing with their children and getting wonderful fresh air and exercise. It was so very nice.

I have been teaching Mr. Budiana some English and he teaches me Indonesian. He is a delightful and incredibly talented man. He has been an art teacher at a local university for 30 years and has recently retired. He still has art exhibitions here in Indonesia as well as in Japan and Australia. He is a wonderfully creative soul with a great sense of humor. He was very shy with his English at first but is quickly getting some confidence and loves to play tricks on people. I adore the time I spend with him.

Each day in yoga training seems to get better and better. I look forward to it each morning and have no trouble getting up when the alarm goes off at 4:45. I love having 3 hours of yoga in the morning and more in the afternoon. I am learning so much that I will take with me in my life. I feel as if I am only now getting started. Yoga is the best medicine for me.

Yoga training day 12

I had a very hard time getting out of bed today. I didn't want to go to yoga this morning, but when I got up and got moving at my usual 5 am, things got better and I started to look forward to it as I do most mornings now.

Yesterday was hard. During our morning practice my bag got knocked into the water trough/moat that surrounds our open air yoga space. Everything was soaked. My favorite red leather purse, money, passport, cell phone, iPhone, vitamins, business cards, credit cards. It really rocked my world and made me feel so unsettled. I fished everything out of the water and spread it all out on the floor to dry. I had all the cash to pay my rent, so there were many bills on the floor along with everything of importance that I have with me. It was a very strange thing to see it all in front of me.

I realize there are much more important things happening in our world but this seemed like a major catastrophe for me personally. Perhaps the lesson is to not put so much importance on material things. But I have certainly been practicing this for the last 1.5 years as I have lived out of one suitcase and not had a home of my own in all that time......

We have been learning about Ayurveda medicine the last few days in class. It's fascinating. We have everything we need to know to heal our bodies through this practice. Bali is full of herbs and plants for every ailment. It would be so great if the western world could get back to this way of thinking instead of pouring the billions that we do into the drug companies. I did it myself for a very long time. I had good insurance and happily took everything that my doctor prescribed until I had a cabinet full of pills for anything I might come down with. I'm grateful to learn new ways of taking care of myself and others.

Kiyo and Sky

Sky, my yoga guru

Me at Tamapksering, the water temple

Our yoga group at the Water Temple

Harriett and Me

Yoga training day nine

I am loving this practice and feel so much better each day. Physically and emotionally. My head feels clear and I am an open vessel receiving the most amazing blessings. I am learning many new things about myself and the way I see the world. I feel like this is a very intense time of transformation as I continue on my life's journey.

Chanting in the morning is a beautiful way to get centered and grounded and clean things out. And it sounds so lovely. Each time we practice yoga, it gets deeper and deeper into my soul. This is not the yoga that I have been doing in California and Utah for the last 15 years at all. This is ancient, original practice that was started many thousands of years ago in India. The yogis knew all of these things about our bodies back then. I have come to understand more that real yoga is 95% lifestyle and 5% physical practice. And it is so much about the breath. I am learning new ways to breathe and use the breath inside my body.

As my body gets more conditioned, I find that I don't need as much food as I thought I did. And I crave healthy, natural foods. Well most of the time. As I sit here in the cafe with my computer I am enjoying a delicious chocolate chip cookie with my tea.  Some things may never change.

I am getting used to getting up at 5 am each day. Most days I look forward to my meditative motorbike ride to the studio in the dark. Except when it rains.

I haven't really seen anyone outside of my yoga group and my room mate for the last 10 days, which is different for me. I usually enjoy a pretty active social life, but all that has changed for now. And that feels alright. 

Our days are spent doing about three hours of practice in the morning that includes chanting, meditation, prayers, puja and yoga. In the afternoon we have another class on yoga poses, or dance or voice lessons. It's really wonderful and diverse. I feel like I'm getting such a well rounded experience. 

It's about 8 pm now. Just enough time to go home, have a shower and go to bed. Such is the life of a yogi in training.

Namaste

sama yoga and me

The word Sama means balance. 

In Bali, you say Sama Sama, which means “everything is ok. All is well. All is in balance.”

For the last 8 days I have been deeply (and I mean deeply) embroiled in a yoga certification course here in Bali. It is something I have wanted to do for many years and this wonderful opportunity came for me to train with a man who I highly respect. It seemed like the perfect time to do it. I was feeling nervous to start. It would mean a big commitment and more importantly it seemed, was the fact that I would have to get up at 5 am six days a week for one month.

I get up each morning when my alarm rings at 5 am. I pull on some clothes, grab my bag and start my motorbike in the dark. I say a little prayer, place some fresh flowers on my handlebars and start off.

I make my way down the road, past the rice fields and see women walking with loads of vegetables on their heads, going to the market to sell their wares. There are other women cleaning the streets with small brooms. When I get to the center of Ubud, the scene explodes in the pre dawn morning. So many people getting ready to set up the morning market. Cars and trucks and motorbikes everywhere, filled with fruits, vegetables, fish, eggs, cloth and toys. It’s amazing to me how much activity is packed in the day of a Balinese person. They are incredible, hard working people. 

I get through the morning traffic and make my way up the hill to the village of Pennastanan. There are very dark, narrow parts of the road with many potholes that I must watch out for. After eight days I’m getting to know the road pretty well. As I drive through the village, many men sit in the corner Banjar watching the morning’s happenings. I smile and give a nod of the head. They smile back. Later on, they will be getting their cocks ready for the daily cock fights. I saw my first one about a week ago and it was fascinating. It’s a deep tradition here and is part of the prayers and ceremony, although some men get addicted and end up loosing their rice fields in the process of betting on the fights.

I get to the very end of the lane, park my bike, take out my flashlight and make my way down a steep set of stairs, across a bridge, past a huge banyan tree, up some muddy steps and end up in a place where I must balance carefully for about 10 feet. One side is a rice field full of water, the other side is the deep jungle canyon, and in the middle there is a 12 inch wide path that I must walk in the dark. Then the last set of uneven stairs leads me to Sky’s house. We meet in the open air pavilion, sit quietly and begin our morning chanting. We chant 108 times, the same number of beads on a set of prayer beads, or mala. My prayer beads have come with me from Tibet and I use them each morning.We begin our chanting in the dark of the morning and I listen as the dawn envelopes me.

After chanting and meditation, we do our morning Surya Namaskar, or Sun Salutations as the sun is rising. It’s a very beautiful practice and an amazing way to start the day. After this we usually do a 2 hour yoga class before breaking for tea and breakfast. Then we are finished until 3:00 when we come back for class that is more focused on teaching and breaking down the poses. At 5:00 there is a discussion with Swami Gi, the man who taught Sky all he knows. He is a wealth of knowledge and teaches us about Sanskrit, chanting and ancient rituals from India. These are things I have been interested in for a very long time and I am honored to learn from these two men.

There are 9 women in the class and two men. We will all know each other very, very well before the month is out. The people are from all over the world; Latin America, Germany, Australia, Sweden, Denmark and Japan. It’s a wonderful, diverse group of people.

During the month we will have voice lessons that will help us teach, music lessons, chanting and puja lessons and field trips to local temples to pray with the Balinese people.

I am in awe. And I am tired. And I am already deeply moved by this experience. 

Nyepi day and other thoughts

I wake up this morning to buckets of rain pouring down from the sky. I can hear the little creek behind the house filling up with water. I planned to go to an 8:00 yoga class, but there is no way Im going out on the motorbike in this weather.  I decide to stay in bed for a while and read the last few pages of my book, “A House in Bali” by Collin McPhee. It was a fantastic read. I bought it the day after I arrived in Bali but it has taken me 3 months to read it, along with all the other wonderful texts that have come into my life since I’ve been here. Collin McPhee was in Bali in the 1930’s to study and record gamelan music. He writes with a wonderful style and I have enjoyed the book very much. I’m sorry to see it end.

I’m thinking of my friends in the US who are all getting ready to watch the big Oscar Awards show today. It’s always my favorite day of the year and I love to go to a party, drink champagne and see what the actors are wearing and who will win. I will go to an internet café later to get online and see what the outcome of the show is.

I look across the street to the flooded rice fields and the green palms swaying in the rain. About 8 motorcyclists have taken refuge under the eves of the closed shop in front of the field. It’s too dangerous to drive, but they know it should be over soon.  In a while, the man who owns the shop will come and open the doors and make his prayers and offerings in front of the small temple at the side of the shop. I love watching him do this each morning.

The rain is pouring off the roof of my open air home. The pond in the middle of the yard is filling with rainwater. The beautiful purple, yellow and white orchids that hang from pots on the trunk of the trees are loving the moisture. Rain water splashes onto the floor and I have to be very careful when I walk close to the edge on the slick marble tiles. I love this house and feel so grateful for the chance to live in it. I’m comfortable here and it has become a place of social activity, with people stopping by, coming over for dinner and yoga and tai chi classes taking place here during the week. My friend Wendy will arrive next week from Australia to stay for a month and it will be nice to share this place with her.  

I light a stick of incense as I do each morning and evening, place some fresh flowers around it as an offering of my thanks, make a cup of hot chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey and begin to write. The geckos leave little presents of their droppings on the table, so I must clean it off before I sit down and open my computer. A cat has come into the kitchen and knocked over the garbage pail to get at the few scraps of tuna left from last nights dinner that I brought home from the small warung down the street. I get a beautiful meal of rice, veggies and tofu or tuna for about 10,000 rupiah, which is about 1 US dollar.

While waiting for my meal, I walk a half a block down the street to the Banjar, the local meeting place for the village where I live. They play music every night and have been busy making the Ogo-Ogo for the celebration coming up called Nypie.

I feel that some explanation is definitely needed here: The villages in Bali are created in a similar fashion to the Mormon “wards” in Utah. There is the head of the Banjar, like the president of the village. He makes sure all is going well with the people and heads up meetings and discussions for the village. Each Banjar has a music group, or gamelan, as well as a dance group who perform for the villages. There is always a huge temple in the village where important festivals and celebrations take place.

Nypie is a holiday that happens once a year in Bali, on March 5. It is a completely silent day. The whole island is closed for business. Not even an airplane can fly into Bali on Nypie. Everyone stays inside their home, do not use electricity or phones and uses the day to be with family and reflect and pray. Most people fast for the day and have a light meal after it gets dark. What a wonderful thing. It would be great if the whole world would take one day like this. Imagine all the resources we would save in one day, and the personal gifts that would come from it.

In the month before Nypie, each village creates great Ogo-Ogo statues made out of styrofoam. The Ogo-Ogos are fantastic and colorful and great works of art. They are scary demon looking creatures that are meant to scare away all bad energy and forces from the island. They are in many different forms and colors. The one in my particular village is a 12 foot tall woman with great giant breasts hanging down. She looks like she’s flying through the air and is holding a scary looking beast in one of her hands. I don’t know what she looks like because her head has not been placed on her body yet.

Each Banjar has a poster in front of the statues to show who has donated what amount to go towards the making of the Ogo Ogo. I talk to the boys for a while and tell them that I would like to make a donation of 100,000 rupiah. They excitedly accept and ask me to write my name on the board. “Ibu Christine. Chantik (beautiful) namanya” (name) they say. “Terimakasi! Terimakasi!” Which means Thank you. I am so happy to be part of this community and glad to play a very small part.

On the day before Nypie, all the statues in the area are paraded through the streets, musicians follow them, along with all the people from the village. They are all taken to the soccer field in the center of Ubud which is between Hannoman and Monkey Forest streets, and burned in a great fire. I am so looking forward to seeing and taking part this wonderful event.

It looks like the rain has stopped for now and there is the promise of blue sky in the distance. The day feels fresh and new.

A Day in Bali

Many people ask me how I spend my days in Bali. Each day is so completely different and I never know what is in store. That’s the joy of being in this magical place.

On this day I am jolted awake by my cell phone ringing at 7 am. I fumble around in my purse and fish out the ringing phone. It is Sari, the young Balinese man who takes care of the house I'm renting. He says he's at the front door. I stumble out of bed, shuffle across the front room in my nightshirt and shield one eye from the bright sun. I open the door and cannot help but smile at Sari. He is about 28 years old and he has one of the most brilliant smiles I have ever seen. His mouth literally takes up more than half his face and it seems like he has a thousand white teeth. "Selemat Bagi, Ibu Christine! You are sleeping?" he says. "I come to fix the stove". When he changed the gas tank the day before I couldn't get the two burner counter-top stove to light and asked him to come and take a look. "I not sleeping all night. I worry about the stove". He is such a thoughtful, wonderful guy. 

His wife Komang comes over every other day to clean the house, do the dishes, change the sheets, make the offerings to bless the house and whatever else needs doing. She is quiet and sweet and it’s nice to have her here.

After Sari leaves, I make some tea and try to wake up. I look out at the beautiful gardens, turn on the fountain and listen to the roosters crowing and the neighbors building something next door. The women carry stacks of newly made bricks on their heads to the men who will build the walls. The man across the street opens his small shop where he sells cold drinks, snacks, soccer balls and banana leaf hats that the rice farmers all seem to wear.

There is a small kitten that’s been hanging around the last few days, and she is back this morning. She's tiny but a tough little cookie. It looks like she's been through a lot in her short life. She is grey and white and it looks like her tail has been bitten or cut off. It's a short stump. She is skinny as hell. I watch her catch a dragonfly and eat it. She seems to be starving. I go and get her some milk, but she runs away as soon as I get near.

I put on some clothes, jump on my newly rented motorbike and go to the morning market to get some vegetables. The ladies all smile when they see me coming. They know I won't haggle too much with them and will end up paying "foreigner" prices. I buy garlic, tempe, onion, cabbage, a spinach-like green plant, and two potatoes. I also buy some little packets of curry, red chili spice and sesame seeds that I will toast and put on everything.

The market is filled with fish, eggs, exotic fruits and many other things I can't identify. Further on, there are the tourist market stalls, selling every kind of shoe, incense, clothing, jewelry, drums, toys, dolls, coconuts, bags, sarongs and much more. They don't bug me too much anymore. They can tell I"m staying a while.

I collect my things, get back on the bike and pay the parking man the equivalent of 20 cents. There is a big cremation happening tomorrow and there is a lot of activity and excitement around the royal palace across the street. Large towers are being made that will hold the body, and exquisite, huge bulls made out of paper mache are waiting to receive the ashes of the newly cremated body.  I will come back tomorrow to see all the action.

I bring my groceries back to the house, grab my computer and head to yoga class. After the hour and a half class, I sit at the café at Yoga Barn and do some work online while I have pumpkin soup and hot tea for lunch.

It begins to rain as I start back for home and that always freaks me out. I don’t like driving in the rain. I put my waterproof “mantle” on over my computer bag and purse and slowly-slowly make my way the mile and half to my house. When I get home I suddenly feel exhausted. I lay down and doze for about 30 minutes or so and then get up and take a shower and begin cutting vegetables for dinner. Anna Marie is coming over for the first time to have dinner and see the new place.

She arrives around 6 and stays for three hours. We talk non-stop and drink hot tea while I make dinner of pasta with vegetables mixed with my new spices and we share a cold Bintang beer to wash it down. She tells me of her recent time in India (she was there at the same time I was), going to the teachings of The Dalai Lama in Sarnath, and having the amazing opportunity to present him with a gift of one of her beaded wall hangings made especially for him. She is a dear friend and I’m happy she’s in my life.

I feel incredibly grateful tonight for so many blessings in my life and for the numerous blessings of this place called Bali.

Advenures in India - Part Four

After a very eventful and fun few days in Calcutta, we head back to the airport for our 2.5 hour flight to Port Blair in the Andaman Islands, off the SW coast of India. I had been there last year but was anxious to go back and see it through Dick Grace’s eyes. When I was here before, Dick asked me to go and visit a family that he supports, which I did. It will be so wonderful to see them again.

As we get off the airplane on the tarmac at Port Blair, we are hit in the face with a blast of hot air. It’s tropical and muggy and feels like a furnace. A huge change from the cool days and cooler nights of Calcutta. We go through customs and get our special permit needed to visit the Andamans and collect our bags. When we go outside there are two happy faces there to greet us. It is Ramu and Jayanthi, longtime friends of Dick and Ann.

They met in the Himalayas in Nepal several years ago when they were all hiking there. Ramu is a Commander in the Indian Navy and Jay works at a bank.  They live in Bangalore now but they used to be stationed in Port Blair so they know the area well. They have our hotels and transportation all arranged for us. I adore them right away and very soon we feel like we’ve known each other for lifetimes. They are both followers of the Guru Yogananda and are both very enlightened, very spiritual people. As it turns out, they are both Gurus of mine and teach me so much in just a few short days.

We go to the hotel to drop our bags and it’s like old home week. Dick and Ann have stayed here several times and the staff is anxious and happy to see them again. We are heartily welcomed and made to feel right at home. After we relax with fresh coconut juice and get settled in, we meet Ramu and Jay in the town center at the samosa shop. It is a custom for Dick and Ann to take a big box full of samosas to the family of Manisha.

Dick met 5-year-old Manisha around 7 years ago. She is mostly blind and comes from a family of 10 children. Two are blind and two have severe handicaps that make them unable to walk. They range from 3 years to 21 years old. The oldest is married and has one child of his own. They all live together in a very small house.  And they have no idea we are coming.

We pile into two auto rickshaws and make the 15 minute drive to Manisha’s house. When we arrive, the family is getting ready for a birthday party for one of the sons. It is perfect timing. The kids are all dressed up and they and their home are as clean as can be. Of course they are just beside themselves when they see that Grandpa Dick and Grandma Ann have arrived. It must have been like a gift from heaven to see them appear.

We squeeze into their tiny home and share in the small birthday cake that is brought for the 8 year old boy. (My apologies for not remembering all the names of the children). It is a festive and wonderful evening. Many photos were taken, songs were sung and delicious slivers of cake were shared along with delectable samosas.

Dick told all the children to get ready to go shopping the next evening so they could all pick out a new outfit. It is something they do with the family each time they visit. The kids are so excited but extremely well behaved. I am so impressed with this family. There is a beautiful light in all their faces and their bodies. They are happy and adjusted despite the tremendous amount of things they face, physically, financially and I would guess, emotionally. They are all very close and take good care of each other. Father likes to drink a little too much on occasion and Dick gave him a somewhat stern talking to, out of earshot of everyone else.

Bright and early the next morning, we get in our van to go snorkeling on the other side of the island. Dick knows the captain of the dive company, who has am amazing story about being lost at sea for several months.

I was feeling a tiny bit uneasy about going snorkeling in the Andaman sea because of my experience last year when I was left out in the middle of the ocean by a careless dive company. But I felt like I had a chance to erase those memories and knew I would be very well taken care of this time.

14 people pile into a rickety wooden boat with a small motor and a bit of shade that we sat under. The boat rocks from side to side very easily and the weight has to be carefully distributed. No sudden movements please…..

The loud motor roars to life, shaking the entire boat and making conversations almost impossible. We sail for about an hour to another small island and everyone grabs their gear and jump into the water. I am the second to last one out and as I gracefully slide into the sea, my swimming costume (as Indians call it) gets caught on a nail, splits at the crotch and stays mostly on the boat as I slip into the water. After a stunned moment of a silence, the laughter can be heard all the way back to Port Blair. Gloria unhooks my suit, which is now up around my neck, and I tug it back down around my body. It is now a very short dress. Luckily Ann was wearing a pair of shorts over her suit which she let me borrow so I didn’t sunburn my ass and scare the fish away.

We have a glorious day of snorkeling, the sea life appearing in unbelievable colors, shapes and sizes. We motor back to the islands, have a delicious lunch and head back to the hotel to get cleaned up for an evening of shopping. We make quite a scene in this small town when we walk into the store with 10 children to buy and outfit but it all goes smoothly and we are finished in about an hour.

The next morning we pack up our gear and head to the ferry for an hour and a half boat ride to Havelock Island where we will stay for three nights. Just for R&R, something I have never known Dick to do. It turns out to be a very special three days. Life changing, really in the things I learn and the people I meet. I feel that my life will take a new direction after Havelock Island.

We spend the days romping around the island on motorbikes, going swimming and snorkeling in the glorious waters of the Indian ocean, eating good food and being amongst friends, old and new.

On the fourth morning, it’s time to go back to Port Blair and to say goodbye to Ramu and Jay. We have all become very close on this trip and it feels difficult to know that we won’t see them again for a while. After a tearful goodbye, the four of us, Dick, Ann, Gloria and me get on the ferry. We all feel a little sad, but the mood is soon lifted as all the workers remember Dick the Jadu man and want him to do some more magic for them. Before we know it, the ride is over and we are back at Port Blair.

Once there, we take Manisha’s family out for a lovely dinner of tandoori chicken, rice, naan, deep fried spicy cauliflower and orange sodas. Everyone is so happy and joyful and it’s a wonderful time with the family. These children are very special and I know I will have a long connection with them as well.

The next day is our last in Port Blair and I decide to spend it catching up on some work and going on a boat ride to Ross Island, a place with a very long history of British rule. It is the Ellis Island of India. After a quiet, reflective day exploring this small island, I board the boat to go back to Port Blair. There is loud Indian music playing from the sound system and a funny Indian man in his mid 50’s gets up and starts dancing and grinding his hips to the music. Soon he is beckoning for me, the only foreigner on the boat to come and join him. Everyone is cheering and pushing me forward and before I know it, he and I are Bollywood dancing together to the sheer delight of everyone else. It was another unforgettable moment in my travels.

A House in Bali

I must interrupt our regularly scheduled program for an important update: I moved into a wonderful house in Bali today and feel compelled to write about it.

It is owned or rather rented from a Balinese family by an Australian woman named Joanne. I met her through one of the darling boys who works at Ubud Aura. She was going back to Australia for several months and Made said she may want to rent it out while she’s gone. He took me to meet with her before I left for India and we hit it off right away. She’s a wonderful woman in her mid fifties. She is very artistic and has spent the last year fixing up her place. After we talked for a few hours she said she would love to have me stay in her home while she’s gone and I was honored to accept. As I sit here tonight, my first night in my new home I cannot believe how fortunate I am that my life has led me here.

I walk up 4 steep stone stairs into a traditional Balinese home entrance. It has two stone pillars to mark the entry way and then there is always a wall directly in front of you to deflect any bad energy that may enter. I can go around this wall to the right or left. I choose to go to the left in a clockwise motion.

This is not a typical Balinese house, though. The whole front of the house is glass, and there is a view to the rice fields across the road.

When I enter the house, it is into a great open room with a high ceiling made of wood and bamboo. Beautiful cushions lie on the ground, dozens of pillows in blues, browns, reds and orange colors.  Waist high silver vases with aqua blue fabric draped around them stand in the corner. Custom made wood cabinets hold books, many small musical instruments, some movies and music.

At the other end of the room is a day bed with red mosquito netting hanging from the ceiling around the bed. Next to it sits a beautiful carved wooden couch with more colorful pillows. A low, large coffee table sits in front of the couch. Wooden bowls hold many porcelain eggs filled with some kind of beads so they make a wonderful shaking sound. Across the room, there is another, higher wooden table and three chairs. A perfect place to sit for breakfast.

The house is an L shape and is totally open to the inside. Along this open wall, there are brown and aqua colored curtains tied together at the four posts that hold up the roof. There is a beautiful garden in the center with a delightful pond. In the middle of the pond is a statue of a beautiful, shapely woman. There is water trickling out from her head and down into the pond.

Joanne’s friend Rose has just painted two murals on the wall behind the daybed. One is a woman in a red, sleeveless dress. She looks like an ancient princess. She has black hair and haunting, yet beautiful eyes. She is looking for something that she doesn’t have. She has a pink veil on top of her head and some wonderful sparkles have been added to it.  

Next to her is a warrior man. He has long black hair and a kerchief on his head, Balinese style. He has a very strong face and handsome lips. He wears a cloth on the lower half of his body while the upper half is bare. He has a quiver strapped across his chest, hanging to one side. His eyes are huge and beautiful and he is looking back slightly behind him, where the woman is.

Some of you may be getting the idea that this place is like the crazy mystery mansion where I lived in Corte Madera. And it is, but this time with a beautiful, clean energy. I feel like a got do-over.

Ahead and to the left is my bedroom. One wall is painted the same aqua blue color and  blue curtains hang over the glass door entrance. It feels like I am in the ocean in that room. There is a wine colored satin cover on the carved wooden bed and white mosquito netting surrounding it.  The bathroom is through the bedroom and Joanne was working on this project when she left. The paint is a wild red and silver color. She says she was experimenting and will change it when she comes back.

Next to the bedroom is a small kitchen. It is big enough to prepare a meal in, but nothing else. There is a two-burner countertop stove that is hooked to a gas tank below. I am looking forward to being able to cook for myself again after so long. The counters are covered in dark grey and black river stones. Much like the ones in my Mill Valley house. The floor is also made of small bits of stone and there is a yin yang symbol in the middle of the floor. On the counter, a small sign reads “This is Spirit. This is Grace. This is my peaceful Bali place”.

A small refrigerator is outside of the kitchen in a custom built cabinet that matches the others. It has glass cabinets on top and some drawers on the side. Next to that is a second bedroom that is done in light red colors. It has a single bed with a beautiful satin cover, red twinkle lights and a small table on the side. At the back of this bedroom there is a door that opens up into a huge, third bedroom and also a bathroom there. This room has been closed off though, and is not used due to some water and mold damage that the landlord promises to fix in the coming weeks.

The fountain is softly trickling, the yard lights are illuminating the pond and the luscious green plants and trees. I can hear Balinese singing coming from a temple not far away. I thought about turning on the stereo, but this is much better.  I wonder if I will wake up tomorrow and this will all have been a dream. It certainly feels like one. A really, really good one.