Balinese Wisdom
I have always thought of America as a culture consumed with fear. It’s everywhere you look, from the message that (put on your best deep scary voice) “the security threat level has now been raised to (oh, gasp) ORANGE…” to the subliminal messages which allude to the fact that you will get (oh, gasp again) fat if you eat or drink anything that is not “light” or “fat free.” It would appear that our culture thrives on fear, at least in the advertising industry.
The other day as I was on my way home from a weekend at the beach with my Balinese buddy Dewa, he brought up an interesting point regarding the subject of fear. But first, if I may, a few words on Dewa.
Dewa is this tall, well muscled, good looking Balinese dude who seems like he could be employed as a body guard until you catch sight of the flowers tucked gracefully behind each ear and learn that he LOVES to sing Mariah Carrey songs. He is my “driver” which is to say that when I want to venture outside my quiet little town of Ubud and onto the wild roads of real Bali I call Dewa. He picks me up in his funky rig (amazing that the thing hasn’t kicked the can yet), windows always down (no a/c in this country), Mariah blasting on the tape deck, and we cruise. Now it’s important to note that Dewa is an incredible musician. In fact, he is even a bit famous in Indonesia for his talents, those being twofold. The first of his skills lies in song writing for Indonesian pop stars. Many of his songs have even been played on the radio and made into albums. The second of his hidden talents is the “macho dance.” I don’t really feel adequately informed on exactly what the macho dance is in order to give it a just description, but he has promised to show me pictures before I go. Can’t wait.
So when Dewa and I are cruising the crazy roads of Bali, we, well actually HE, sounds quite good singing along to Mariah. As we were coming home from the beach he put on some new tunes from James Blunt (American pop star of the moment).
“Kate, do you know James Blonde?”
“Who?” I said, then realizing what he must have said “Oh James Bond? Yeah, totally, he’s a hottie, well the Pierce Brosnan version is at least.”
Now it was Dewa’s turn to be confused.
“I don’t know what you say Kate.”
“You asked if I know James Bond, and I mean, not personally, obviously, but I definitely know who his is, like I said, he’s a hottie.”
Dewa is now even more confused.
Eventually we boil it down to James Blunt (he has the pronunciation of the last name a bit off), the pop singer of the moment, who was currently serenading us in Dewa’s beat up truck.
So there we are with James Blunt and Dewa singing a broken hearted ballad as we wind through the rice fields.
“What’s that word?” asks Dewa as the chorus comes on.
“Bravery” I respond after listening intensely to the poor recording. “He’s saying he has no bravery,” I elaborate.
“What this mean?” Dewa asks.
“It means he’s afraid,” I say, and so began the conversation on America’s obsession with fear.
“You sure have a lot of word in English for fear,” observes Dewa. “In Indonesian we have one: ta kut. It for every meaning of fear. Not much fear in Bali, so not need much word.”
I smile, loving his observation, nod my head in agreement, and start laughing as he lists off all the English words he has learned for fear.
“Afraid, scared, not brave, terrified, fearful, frightened…..” he keeps on going, and I’m impressed at the scope of his vocabulary.
“You know Dewa, there’s quite a lot of fear in America. I mean, there are even rumors that the Talliban (scary voice again, a bit of sarcasm too) are living among us!”
“Who’s Talliban? Singer?”
I have confused him yet again.
We continue our conversation about fear on a more serious note, determining that maybe it’s the lack of spirituality in the Western world that gives way to so much fear. Then again, many fundamentalist religious groups thrive on the concept of fear, so it’s tough to say one way or the other.
I tell Dewa that I think the problem is deeply imbedded in a culture that seeks happiness in the external world, particularly in material things. There is no doubt that capitalism thrives on consumption, and in our modern society, we have become masters of the art of consumption. Everything in the external world is always changing and impermanent. It can die, disappear, or be taken from you. This is a very scary thought if you depend on anything external for happiness. If instead you look inside for happiness and fulfillment, there aint no one who can touch that stuff other than you. Life then doesn’t seem so scary anymore.
The Balinese get this. What they don’t get is mass consumption. They on the other hand, seem to be masters of moderation. That, or it’s the fact that they spend so much time preparing for this ceremony and that celebration, they don’t even have time to get wrapped up in materialism. They seem to extract their happiness from moments, from being with their friends and family, from nature, and well more than anything, from just being. They do not have agendas, they are not trying to accomplish some big task, they are simply doing whatever it is they are supposed to do at that moment, and they do it not only with the whole of their heart but with a smile on their face. It is a true demonstration of grace and an inspiration to watch.
As a result, they are some of the friendliest people I have ever encountered, and it makes traveling alone feel more like you’ve gone on vacation with the entire extended family than off on a journey of solitude. I hear my name constantly being called out in the streets of Ubud from people I’ve met for all of 5 seconds. “Hello Keit!!! (that’s how they say my name). How are you today?!” always shouted with incredible enthusiasm.
In America, we seem to have lost that time to talk to strangers, or even to say a friendly hello. There’s an ever-present sense of urgency, business, and rush that seeps its way into every quick footstep of the passerby. There is this sense that what we are going to do is more important than what we are doing right now.
While the Balinese may be masters of the present and maintaining grace in every action, there is another side to this; besides I can’t completely bash America, for there are a lot of amazing things about it too. The dark side to this shiny coin is that not much actually happens in Bali. I was here a year ago, and I swear, the exact same clothes are hanging in the store windows. The only difference is that they’ve collected another few inches of dust and their colors look more pastel than vibrant. The same people seem to be sitting in the same places, just watching life happen around them. The same rituals and ceremonies are going on or being prepared for. There’s just a whole lot of sameness going on round these parts.
At first it freaked me out a bit. I mean, in America, the clothes in the store window have changed before you even got a chance to go in and see them! And to see the same person in the same place, aside from the robotic morning ritual dance at Starbucks, is a rarity. I’ve learned to see a subtle beauty in this sameness. It’s very calm and non-distracting, which allows you to focus on what really matters. Suddenly you’re not so caught up in all the change, rather you find yourself paying attention to a new kind of change, like the change in the wind, or the change in the light on a child’s smiling face. Time slows down, moments stand out, and you feel at ease, at peace. Then suddenly you’re thrown out of your peaceful moment by the sounds of a large truck honking, headed straight for you. The dazed look of peace turns into one of a stunned dear in the headlights, and like a cat you spring into action.
I guess nowhere on earth is perfectly peaceful…even Bali! So for now, I will just have to enjoy those rare moments and soak up all the smiles and friendliness I can. Someone told me recently that a smile is the most contagious thing on the planet…I sure hope so, it’s a disease I want to spread, and I think the Balinese have got it BAD.
Hugs from the Beach
Oh the sun on my face, the sand between my toes, and the salt on my skin……I am in heaven! It is sooooo good to be at the beach. I arrived early this afternoon and plan to stay for the next three days. I decided to venture to the east coast of Bali to a town called Sanur. I wanted to check out somewhere I had never been before and Sanur is not too far from Ubud, so it was perfect. I booked myself in a nice little hotel right on the beach and have been grinning ear to ear since I arrived!
The sea breeze is so perfect; perfect temperature, perfect smell, perfect noise, perfect feel. I walked as far as i could walk on the beach when I first got here, during which met the sweetest woman named Rita. She walked with me for about a mile. At first she wanted to give me a massage, but then we just got to talking and found that we really enjoyed each others company, so we just walked. She told me all about the area and the island in the distance which is where she is from. Every step we walked I fell more in love with the Balinese people. The conversations are so joyful, friendly, and light. Once she decided that she could stray no further from her shop she gave me a farewell hug that felt like it came from an old friend. I continued to walk, every now and then dropping my things and sprinting into the ocean Baywatch style (this has been one of my favorite things to do since I was a little kid). I would float for a bit, and then come back out and continue my walk. All along the beach there are these mini piers that have little open shacks at the end where you can just lounge, look out at the gorgeous view, feel the perfect breeze, and get a little shade from the sun. I parked it on one of those for a few hours, reading for a bit, but then deciding that I was enjoying the feeling of just being on the ocean far too much to distract myself with typed words. Two Indonesian boys from Mala came up and hung out with me for a while. They were hilarious and so friendly, as usual. One was wearing leather pants but designed like jeans. I asked him if he was hot and he said “yes,” fanning himself then smiled and said, “but sexy yah?” I just laughed, it was unfortunately the complete opposite, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him. We chatted about all sorts of things eventually determining that there were too many people in the world, all of whom are using too much oil. It was a funny conclusion for an American and two Indonesians to come to while sitting at the end of a pier on a perfect sunny day without a care in the world, but very true. The one in the leather pants was convinced that America is going to bring peace to the world, and I think I did a good job of convincing him that I thought otherwise. Rather, it would be people like us were the ones that could really bring peace to the world, by being happy loving individuals who brought that into the lives of all they meet.
After a little while a young group of boys on bikes with a kite came a joined us. It felt like a perfect little island being out there on that pier. I learned how to say kite in Indonesian which had all of them in stitches for a solid 15 minutes. Apparently my accent is not so authentic! I was kicking myself for not having my camera because the images of the kids trying to fly this kite would have been priceless. But yet again, as I have found so many times on this trip, the best photos have been captured with my eyes and stored forever in my heart. I left our perfect little island when a grumpy old man from Holland arrived and shifted the light laughter to a somber silence. It was getting late in the day so I quickly ran back to the hotel to grab my camera to photograph the locals who come to the beach after work. I did more watching than photographing, but did get some great shots. All of the families come together to play and bathe in the sea. It’s beautiful to see their interaction, every movement so filled with love. They all act as if they have all the time in the world, and in many ways they do. In fact we all do, it’s really just a state of mind. I feel so sad for the many children in the world who don’t get to simply spend moments like that with their families. It seems that it is an epidemic which is worse in the western world than in poorer countries where they aren’t consumed by their jobs. They may not have much money or many possessions, but they have time. Time to spend with their loved ones and time to enjoy the simple pleasures of life which are all to often over looked. Watching all the families play as I sit in the sand sipping on a cold Bintang was like watching one of the best movies I’ve seen in a while.
Just when I was feeling a little lonely and wishing I had someone to share the moment with, a very cute older woman named Wyan (her daughter, husband, and grandchild are all also named Wyan, and it turns out that I too am named Wyan because Wyan is the name for the first born), walked up to me and gave me this smile that said “I am a wise and gentle woman, you want to talk to me.” So I did, we talked for about an hour. She just sat with me, much in the same way that Rita earlier had just walked with me. I couldn’t help but feel as though they were angels fallen from the sky, to give me a hug and smile just when I needed it. Of course first they want to know where you’re from, where you’re staying, how long you’re staying, if it’s your first time to Bali, and if you like it. I think they really like my teeth because I usually only make it about halfway through those questions before they stop, no longer care, and just want to see me smile, which of course I do, so then we have a smile off. Greatest game ever.
Wyan told me all about her family, which was a screwed up as one might find in southern Mississippi or parts of Utah. Her husband has 4 wives, maybe 5 at one point, but probably only 4 now. She doesn’t live with him anymore because he lives with one of the other ones, but he may want to come back soon. She hopes so because she would not like to be alone in her old age. She does have a lovely son though who takes good care of her. As I listen to her words, which are broken english but still quite easy to understand, I can’t help but drift into my own thoughts of how wonderful it is to simply talk to strangers, for when they open their hearts to you and you in turn have no judgement, you can really feel that we are all same. Beyond race, religion, gender, background, size, shape, perfect teeth or no teeth, we are people who just want to express, love, be loved, and laugh.
As the sun set I watched the reflection of the pinks, oranges, and blues bounce off the west coast of the next island (remember I am on the east coast, no sunset over the water for me) and I couldn’t help but feel as though I was wrapped up in the arms of the world, in those of the mother we all share, Nature.
Where ever you are, I hope Mother Nature is hugging you too.
Every Day is an Adventure
Oh how every day is an adventure! I wake up every morning, and a smile appears on my face at the very thought of how absolutely anything could happen, especially here in Bali.
Today one of my few “tasks” of the day was to find the Yoga Barn, which is where I will be teaching (starting tomorrow). Bali Spirit, the studio I’m teaching at has 2 locations, one is their Cafe and small studio right in town, and the other is the new Yoga Barn (which wasn’t here when I was last year) located just outside of town. After my breakfast of banana pancakes and fresh fruit, some meditation, yoga, walk down to the river, and poolside reading, I set off on my motorbike to seek out the Yoga Barn.
It really only took me about an hour to find, which considering the traffic and the fact that I had a hand drawn cryptic map is pretty good. I got lost for a good 40 min of that hour, but I found that in my lostness I actually learned my way around Ubud much better. I just kept saying to myself as I took random lefts and rights, “you can’t really get lost if you don’t know where you are going to begin with…..” The town of Ubud is a very complicated and completely irrational network of one way streets. The concept of “grid” does NOT exist here, but it makes driving all the more enjoyable as you twist and wind every which way through the jungle. I almost hit a monkey, yes that’s right, a big fat monkey was sitting dead in the middle of my path as I rounded one of the many bends. I took it as a sign that I must be on the right path. Whether or not it would lead to the yoga barn was another story, but eventually it did.
The Yoga Barn is located among some terraced rice paddies which gives it a stunning location. There are two large studios, both gorgeous and completely open to the outdoors save for the roof. The selection of classes is equally impressive, including a sunday evening yoga flow class that they call “cello flow” because you practice to a live cello player. How beautiful is that?! I was intending to attend that tonight…but lets just say “Bali” got in the way. Let me explain.
After finding the yoga barn and going on a wild goose chase trying to get a Balinese cell phone (which was miraculously successful in the end), I decided to go home, drop off some stuff and then come back into town to go to the cello flow class. As I was cruising down the main road of Ubud, my motorbike decided it had had enough of the hard life on the road, so it up and quit mid traffic. I carefully maneuvered it over to the side of the road, trying not to cause too much commotion, which proved very easy considering the constant on going commotion caused by everyone else. I tried every trick in my book to get the little guy up and running again, but it soon became obvious that someone with a bit more mechanical skills than my own was going to have to be involved in saving the motorbike’s life.
Ok, so now what? I figured I would go to the shop, inform them of the ill state of the bike, and go from there. I hitched a ride to the shop by a man who turned out to be a painter and we had a lovely chat about how painting creates more beauty in the world (only in Bali do these conversations occur on a regular basis!) When we got to the shop it was closed. Sunday. Damn. Now what? I decided that I might as well go home since I had a ride, and deal with it from there. I managed to find the number of the woman who rented me the bike and had Dewa, my Balinese friend and who I now refer to as my Balinese angel, call her and see what could be done. A few minutes later I got a call on my cute gheto pink Balinese cell phone from Dayu, the woman who rented me the bike. She is cheery as ever, and tells me how sorry she is about the bike. How not to worry, she will go get it and bring a new one to my hotel by 6pm. It would be sooner but she is in Temple and must sing and dance for a few more hours.
She is very sorry for the dely. I am delighted at how simple and joyous every potential disaster turns out to be in Bali. Oh if only the rest of the world could learn to be like that!! There would be a lot less disease caused by stress, I tell you that much. Maybe we all need to sing and dance a bit more too 
Ubud Life
The place I’ve come to call home here in Bali is PERFECT. I am up on the second floor of a house, of which the entire thing is open save for a paylapa style roof. There are a few bamboo shades to drop in the event of a torrential down pour (which I might add, would do jack shit in terms of keeping things “dry”), but other than that, I am one with nature. From my deck, which is a funny term to use because the whole place is really like a deck, I over look the jungle and river bed bellow, while off on the horizon rise the three volcanos, Mt. Batur, Mt. Agung, and the third of whose name I do not yet know. The view is simply stunning, and I have found myself just staring out at it for hours. I always stop when I feel the droplets of drool pooling at my feet.
In my hours not spent gazing out on the landscape, I have made myself a wonderful little home. There is a nice big open space where i have put out my yoga mat. Near that, a chase lounge where my ukulele lives. My books have made their home on one of the tables and all of their covers are curling up in response to the almost liquid air. There is a round table for eating that holds a big bowl of mangosteens, and other native fruit that i love but don’t know the names of. And then there’s my computer, the object that has no specific location, which looks so out of place among its rustic counterparts, but makes me smile every time I see it. There is something absolutely wonderful about feeling totally alone and out in the middle of nowhere and yet having the ability to be connected to the world in a matter of clicks! And so, I am in heaven.
My body is LOVING the heat, humidity, and constant state of wetness, while my soul is loving being surrounded by so much life. Everywhere I look there is an animal or plant that is beautiful beyond words. I feel like I’m wrapped up in the arms of mother nature, and there is nothing more comforting than that. So yes, Bali is healing. And if the plants and animals weren’t enough, then the people complete the circle. They are so caring, graceful, and present, smiling at everyone who passes. I have already taken over a thousand photographs just with my eyes of all their smilies, and I will store them in my heart for whenever I need a smile of my own. The majestic statues of buddha and various hindu gods and goddesses that are mixed in among the greenery give an ever present sense of mystery and mysticism that I find absolutely fascinating. The rituals that are performed on a daily basis are equally impressive. I have watched the same woman bring the offerings and incense to each of the statues every evening as the sun is setting, and each time she does exactly the same thing, but her movements and expressions are such that it is as if she is doing it for the first time. There is so much devotion and love in every step, I am humbled simply by watching.
Yesterday morning I came out to my parked scooter (yes I got a motorbike), and sitting on the handlebars was a small offering of flowers wrapped in large banana tree leaves. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I knew then that my motorbike was now blessed by the hindu gods and would keep me safe out on those totally chaotic roads. There’s a reason they put offerings on the motorbikes!!! It’s their attention to detail, and the TIME they take to do the LITTLE things that make this place so special.
But there is another side. Not a bad side by any means, just a more “real” side. Let me now paint you that picture: It is 6am. I am lying in my mosquito netted bed, which consists of more holes than protective material, itching the 20 new bites on my arms, legs, and face. The roosters are crowing non-stop as if they have just lost their beloved brother in a cock fight. The noise of the roosters stirs the pigs, so now the pigs are squealing equally offensively creating the most horrific orchestra of noise which rivals that of a slaughter house. No more sleep for me. Miraculously I feel rested, despite waking up every few hours to the howling stray dogs and mercilessly crying cats. Ah the lovely sounds of nature. Top that off with the constant buzz of insects, the distant ritual chanting, and a few other very unidentifiable, mildly concerning sounds and you have a new button on the Sharper Image noise maker entitled “Bali”.
But I love it. I love it all so much that I must look like one of those annoying people who walks around with a shit eating grin on their face at all times. I wouldn’t know this however because my new home does not have any walls let alone a mirror!
My days thus far have consisted of becoming familiar with my new environment, which seems to have an adventure lurking around each and every corner. I had a very interesting trip on my scooter to the “grocery” store yesterday in which I spent hours looking for some form of soap with which I could wash my many clothes (all 2 pairs of shorts and 2 shirts I so modestly brought). They sell the most bizarre things at the Bali grocery store, which only adds to the confusion. I would love to give you some description of what they are, but they are such completely foreign objects I wouldn’t even know how to start describing them!
Simply being on the motorbike is an adventure in itself, but that truly deserves an entire email to itself, so you shall have to wait for those stories to come.
Aside from the joys of pure survival, life in Bali is very relaxing. I have already spent hours reading, writing, lounging, and sleeping. It feels amazing to function with a complete and total disregard for time. I function almost entirely on the clock of the sun, rising around 6am and falling asleep around 7pm, allowing the natural rhythms of my body to fall in line with those of nature. It just feels right (and prevents me from completely loosing it at the roosters and pigs when they go off at 6am).
Only in Bali
The scent of burning trash, burning incense, two stroke engines, and tropical everything overwhelmed my nose as I stepped out of the airport and into the refreshingly humid air. Ahhh Bali, nowhere else on the planet smells the way it smells here. Is it a good smell? Mmmm that’s debatable, but because it’s unique to Bali I love it. I was greeted at the airport by my friend Dewa who was holding a large sign reading “Kate Olson” in intricately decorated block letters. He already knew me, but it’s customary to make a sign if you are picking someone up in the airport. Since everyone in Bali seems to be blessed with the creative gene, the sea of signs as you exit looks more like an exhibit at MOMA than an airport greeting area. Only in Bali. We toss my bags into Dewa’s car, and I attempt to get into the driver’s seat forgetting that they drive on the other side of the road. Soon we are the main road quickly leaving the large city of Denpasar, headed towards the hilly jungle town of Ubud. I stick my head out the window like a puppy dog and giggle as we weave in and out of traffic, narrowly avoiding motorbikes packed with entire families. It’s 1am as we cruise by a motor bike with three teenagers all in barefeet……”don’t they have school tomorrow?” I say to Dewa. He just shrugs. “Oh yeah, I’m in Bali,” I remember, life is a little different here. In unison they wave and flash me some of the widest smiles I’ve ever seen. I grin and wave back, their smiles reminding me exactly what it is I love about Bali so much; the people and the way they live their lives.
By the time we make it to Ubud, I am nearly asleep. As I walk the narrow path to my new home my senses begin to awaken again. Out in front of me lies the most incredible landscape I have ever seen. The jungle trees look like silver shadows as they bask in the moons light while a symphony of insects serenades the few sleeping souls. I am perched high up on a ridge that overlooks and ocean of palm trees and cascading rice paddies. Far in the distance three majestic volcanoes rise up toward the sky. A small spiritual offering with a stick of incense still burning sits in front of my door. Just to the left is a gorgeous statue of a Hindu goddess dressed in freshly picked flowers. I sense mystery and magic everywhere. Only in Bali.
Thoughts from 30,000 ft
Sometimes it takes going way up into the sky to be able to go down deep into your soul for a little peace and understanding.
As I sit on the Boeing 747 looking out onto the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, I can’t help but reflect on the events of recent, specifically Johnny’s death. Sitting on a Korean Air flight bound for Seoul South Korea I am the only white person, let alone the only blonde person. I feel somewhat misplaced, out of context, just as Johnny’s death did. The further away I get from home, the more surreal it becomes, and the more my grasp on reality seems to slip into what feels like a constant dreaming state.
Once again, life has shocked me. I’m OK solely because have come to feel that there is no good nor bad in life. Things just happen the way they happen. It’s when we are attached to them, have expectations, plans, or live outside the present moment that they become good and bad. This is not to say that I’ve become emotionally detached, but I have taken a step back and I can feel my perspective shifting. I still continually struggle to wrap my head around this concept of “life” but I’m beginning to learn that this is a battle not worth fighting, for it cannot be won. The concept of life cannot be understood by our human minds, vast as we may think they are, simply because the very nature of life is that it’s constantly changing. So I surrender, or as the yogis would say, “namaha.” And I focus on only this; breath in, breath out, and I feel lighter.
I have moments of missing John where my heart physically aches and feels heavy. I have other moments of obsessing over his fall, replaying every second in my head, wondering if he was afraid, if he knew in those few seconds that he was going to die, if it hurt….. Other moments I wonder, “what if?” What if I had spoken to him right before his run, what if he had landed that drop and won, what if he fell a mere two inches to the right, what if he simply broke his leg, what if he had become paralyzed. I’ve also had moments of rationalizing it, focusing on how he was happier than he had ever been in is life up there in AK, how he was one of the lucky ones to die without suffering, doing what he loved most in life, how his life may have been a short one, but it was no doubt full off passion and fun, and it’s about quality over quantity anyways right? But all of this is just an attempt to understand the un-understandable of life and death.
My thoughts surrounding Johnny’s death are no doubt affected by the fact that only three years ago I lost a best friend at the even younger age of 21. I thought young people weren’t supposed to die…?? I feel like they are looking down at me now saying, “ah grasshopper, such is the way of the world, you can never know….”
They are confusing events that are all encompassing of every human emotion and experience. More than anything, it makes me question everything; what we think we know, what is reality, why are we here. Maybe it’s as simple as this: we are here, because we are. That answer is very displeasing to my ego. Yet at the same time, if we are simply here because we are, then everything seems kind of OK.
During these intense times of questioning and wondering I find my self drawn to the one thing that stands out as real among a very confused reality; love. Love and laughter are like the golden king and queen that stand strong, floating above a sea of rough, muddy waters. So maybe that’s another answer to the question why are we here, simply to love.
As I cruise somewhere over the middle of he Pacific Ocean I can’t help but love everything, everything from the beauty of the sun setting on the distant horizon to the few hundred snoring Asian passengers I am surrounded by at this moment. Breath in, breath out, feeling lighter.
Back to Bali
On April 28th I arrived back in Bali. It had been almost a year since the last time I was here. While it appeared that not much had changed in Bali, much had changed in my life over the course of the last year. The most significant being that a very close friend had died while skiing in Alaska two weeks before my departure to Bali. It cast a dark shadow on life for a little while, but I knew that Bali was a good place to go for a little peace and understanding. Being here, surrounded by so much life and such a strong presence of nature has soothed my soul and re-kindled my passion for life. It has been a true gift.
I was brought back to Bali this year partly because my heart told me I needed to come back here, but in addition, I was invited to teach Pilates at a yoga studio in Ubud called Bali Spirit. The teaching was wonderful but it was just the tip of the iceberg. I found myself being a student more often than a teacher, some of life’s most valuable lessons unfolding before my eyes. The following entries are from the past few weeks in Bali. Enjoy!
Ketut Liyer
“You will live to be 110 years old!”
I raise my fist victoriously into the air as if my team has just won a soccer match and let out a loud, “yeah baby!” The 90 year old medicine man looks at me with sparkling eyes and flashes a toothless grin. For anyone who has ever thought that good teeth make a good smile, they have not met Ketut Liyer, Balianese medicine man, healer, palm reader, artist, and persona extrordinare.
It is a storm brewing afternoon in Ubud, and I have found myself on the porch of Ketut’s house anxiously awaiting to be told my past, present, and future from the mysterious lines of my palm. I am fully emersed as Ketut tells me the story of how and why he came to be a medicine man. It’s a story I have heard before. In fact, it is virtually the exact story that was re-tod by Elizabeth Gilbert in her beautiful book, “Eat, Pray, Love.” As the story unfolds almost word for word, I realize quickly that his lack of English has led him to prepare a bit of a speech. One I’m guessing he has spoken more than a few times before. Despite this, it is still one of the more enchanting stories I have ever heard, and I feel as though I have just walked into the pages of a fairytale. At the end of his story his tone grows slightly serious as he explains that it is his duty, coming from a long line of healers to tell the truth. If my palm is bad, he will not be coating it in sugar.
I must admit that for a moment, I hesitated as thoughts of hearing a grim future flashed through my mind. Did I really want to hear that I might die tomorrow? I quickly extinguished my dismal thoughts and eagerly hand him my palm. “Hit me with your best shot Ketut! I can take it!”
For the next hour we look over many little, some big, and some invisible wrinkles in my hand. My untrained eye and skeptical western mind had to take a back seat as I let Ketut weave a beautiufl story from the lines of my palm. “Ooohh this is good, this is very good,” he says.
“Yes this is good” I think to myself, “I must not be set to die tomorrow.”
“You are going to become very rich by age 30.” The corners of my mouth turn up a little. Not bad, not bad. I feel like saying, “you too could become rich buddy if you hopped the next plane to Vegas and set up shop.” Instead I say, “I’m already very rich Ketut, rich in happiness.” Big smile.
“No miss Kate. At 30 you rich in bank. You will be very successful, you very smart woman, you very lucky always in your life.”
Keep it comin mister, I like where we are headed with this!
As the story unfolds, I learn that I will have a very good marriage, but only if I am married between the ages of 25 to 28. Before 25: divorce. Post 30: forever single. Hmmmm. I also must come to Bali once I am married so Ketut can bless the marriage. Now this I will do. I continue to smile as he intently disects my palm with great care and intruigue. In the world of palm readers, I believe Ketut would take the cake for genuine.
Gazing at my wrist he whispers something in Balianese then announces that I am the reincarnation from four generations past. She was a doctor, a very strong and wise woman. This is good, very good. Slightly up from my wrist, somewhere in the vicinity of my thumb, I receive and interesting bit of news. “You can make sex with husband two time in a night, but three times too much, you get tired.” Just imagine this coming from the mouth, toothless remember, of a 90 year old man. He didn’t even flinch. He was simply translating the lines, and apparently that’s what they told him. I laughed and gave him a light punch in the arm. “Ketut you are making me blush!” But he had already moved onto my heart line where, you guessed it, nothing but good news.
My favorite part came when he told me that I represented the goddess Sarahswati. She is the goddess of knowledge and creativity. Now who wouldn’t want to be connected to this babe?! She also has four hands with which she holds various beautiful items. To the Balianese they each have a deep meaning. To me, she looks like one hell of a multi tasker!
He brought out one of his magic paintings of her and told me that he would make one form me in the next few days and bless it with a magic ceremony. A magic painting of a four armed goddess. Now what more could you want from a 90 year old medicine man who has just told you that you are going to live the most wonderful life you could have ever imagined.
“Don’t worry in your life Kate (which sounded more like Kte). You have very good life.”
“Yes Ketut” I replied, “You are very right about that.”
Beautiful Bali
Monkeys swing from the tree tops, and there is green everywhere you look. Steeply terraced rice paddy covered hillsides cascade down towards rivers and waterfalls, and the feeling that this island is magical eminates from every living thing. I haven’t even seen the ocean yet, but I can sense its presence near by. For now, I am spending my time hidden amongst the wild jungle of Ubud.
For the past five days (and continuing for the next 25 days) I have been at a yoga teacher training retreat just outside of Ubud Bali. I’m not sure what kind of images “yoga teacher training” conjurs up in your mind, but even with the information I had prior to coming here I could never have imagined it would be an experience as incredible as this. I am surrounded by 40 beautiful souls, in the most gorgeous resort, eating a gormet raw food diet, meditating, learning about yoga, and most of all learning about life. Yes, I am in heaven!
I was also miraculously offered a job on my very first day in Bali. Hmmmm……a new part time home on this magical island…….I have always wanted to compliment all that skiing with a bit of surfing……oh the wonderful possibilities in this life.
