Reflections

Sunday, June 9, 2013

The heat and humidity in Bali take some getting used to. Paradise can be paralyzing. Even small tasks like finding a post office or going to an ATM machine to get some money can take some effort to resist the heat-induced inertia, along with the inertia of being deeply relaxed--- something I haven’t experienced very often in the last two or three decades.

Every day I’m regaining more energy as I adapt to the 14 hour time change, along with the radical change in climate. I had forgotten what it feels like to be in high humidity. In New Mexico my hair dries in about an hour after a shower versus here where my hair remains damp all day, along with the dampness of the sweat in the clothing. My description might sound unappealing to you, but when you’re relaxed, none of that matters too much. It’s just part of the adventure and is no deterrent to seeing and feeling the magic of Bali.

Today was the last of our five gamelan classes, taught by gamelan masters. It was not only a fantastic cross-cultural musical experience, but also a great way to get into a trance-like state. The sequences we were taught on the percussion instruments required intense concentration to ensure we would hit the right key with our little wooden hammers. One stray thought could lead to immediate dissonance.

All the traditional cultures I’ve had contact with throughout my life seem to have recognized the importance of rhythmic and repetitive group activities like chanting, round dancing, and drumming---all of which can alter consciousness, induce trance-like states, and promote an empty and quiet mind. There seems to be some universal recognition among less westernized cultures that anxiety is part of the human condition.

In the afternoons, when we’re not going on an outing or going to a ceremony or a cremation, we’re going to painting classes and puppet making classes which are taught by masters in their field. The style of teaching is quite different than what I experienced growing up…and maybe what you experienced. The Balinese don’t seem to judge if something is good or bad. They are relaxed and accepting of whatever the students do. They gently guide, always with a smile and with kindness…..no matter how inept the student might be. They don’t talk very much, just enough to show us what to do. And they will show us over and over until we get it and feel comfortable. The high school kids on this program are enthusiastic about going to these kinds of classes. They feel accepted and nurtured. Since the classes take place in the homes of the masters, we get to see how they treat their children. It is with the same kindness and gentleness and with minimal intervention.

The Balinese people are made of a mixture of religions and cultures, but the predominant one is Hinduism. But one can see Buddhist influences, along with Muslim. Some of the people look like their ancestors might be East Indians, some more like Chinese, but most look Polynesian. The Balinese smile at every opportunity. The Muslim Balinese women can be recognized by their head scarves. I’ve noticed that they look more serious and don’t tend to smile as much as the Hindu Balinese.

Every day there is some sort of ceremony here. Work life seems to be of secondary importance. Every day offerings are left everywhere one looks. The offerings usually are in the shape of a shallow little box made of folded banana leaves. In the box are the offerings of various items like a tiny pile of rice, sugar, and coconut flakes, along with flowers and sometimes incense depending on where the offering is made. Someone leaves an offering in front of each of our bungalows every morning before we get up.  There seems to be no demarcation between the sacred and the secular. All of life seems to be sacred to the Balinese people.

It’s Sunday morning in this part of the world. We’re off with the kids to meditate in a beautiful temple. Bye for now.

Pictures

Friday, June 7th, 2013 

The internet is working now. Here are some pictures that were supposed to be part of the last post.

The bungalow compound where the students stay

The compound of bungalows where the kids stay

Hotel where our cooking class took place

One of the more upscale hotels

Erica, relaxed and ready

All dressed up for the cremation ceremony

Pavilion for carrying the dead body

Each villager had her role in the preparation of the offerings

Doorway to priest's house

Medical doctor who came from Danpasar for his grandfather's cremation ceremony

A few of the offerings at the cremation ceremony

Grandmother and baby during cremation ceremony

One of many family temples one sees along the road

funeral pyre

Cremation ceremony and community life

    Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Yesterday we were on our way to gamelan class in the morning when a man approached us in ceremonial gear, wrapped in his sarong of fine fabric , secured with a colorful sash and on his head the intricately wrapped fabric tied with a fancy knot. The messenger knew that Gaylon and Zinnia were interested in taking us to ceremonies. He informed them that there was a cremation that would take place soon in a village to the north. We stopped in our tracks, turned around, retracing out steps to our bungalows to dress ourselves in our carefully chosen sarongs and sashes, with headgear for the men, that we had bargained for at the sarong marketplace.  A van was waiting for us, seeming to appear magically out of nowhere. We got in and headed north, not wanting to miss this amazing event that is such an integral part of traditional Balinese culture.

We rode through beautiful country with terraced fields of green that made their way down vast ravines. We passed one little village after another, each with several temples, including the family temples that are found in each of the family compounds. We drove upcountry in the direction of the big volcano, Agung, where the air was cooler.

When we arrived in the area there were hundreds of people gathered, dressed in their finest traditional clothing.  We were told the whole village turns out for these ceremonies. This particular cremation ceremony was for a 90 year old priest who had died two days ago. We talked with his grandson who spoke a bit of English. He is a doctor in Denpasar, the capital city of Bali. He explained that normally the ceremonies are so expensive that the dead bodies are buried until there are enough bodies that the expense per family goes down. Sometimes there are up to 50 bodies that are dug up at one time for a giant cremation ceremony. But the priest had a high status along with wealth so there was no need to wait for other bodies with whom to share the event.

We sat among the people in the spacious outdoor courtyard of the priest’s family compound. All the villagers treated us with kindness and acceptance, along with big smiles. Marina, the beautiful brown-skinned student from Cochiti Pueblo with long, thick black hair and almond shaped eyes was continually stared at, smiled at, photographed with cell phones, and talked about among the villagers, both men and women. She was asked if she was Balinese and was told she was “cantik” which means beautiful. One man who didn’t speak any English asked her for her cell phone number. Marina appeared amused by it all.

The family compound was filled with beautifully crafted offerings for the afterlife along with arrangements of marigolds in the Hindu style and piles and piles of food, all enveloped in sweet incense. It looked festive and colorful, nothing somber or morose.

After waiting hours while the preparations were reaching completion, the body was wrapped in layers and layers of fabric and woven straw mats and then placed in what looked like a little pagoda which was carried on the shoulders of dozens of men. The little structure containing the body was whirled around in many directions to confuse the spirits of the priest so they couldn’t find their way back and would move on to the afterlife.  

The procession filled the road as far as the eye could see and was contained by police that directed traffic. We walked about a quarter mile to a field that had been cleared for the occasion. The body was loaded into the belly of what looked like a paper mache dragon which would carry the priest to the afterlife. His clothes and other personal items , along with trays and trays of food and other offerings were added into the belly of the dragon and then set on fire. The funeral pyre was a sigh to behold with the flames shooting into the sky.

The event lasted all day. What impressed me the most about witnessing this pageant is how all the cycles of life are celebrated in traditional Balinese life and that death is not just for mourning, but a time when the entire community comes together to honor the dead person. At these important transitions, each member of the community stops what they were doing and participates fully in the ceremonies. Their lives are full of ceremonies. It’s like a nonstop celebration of life. The spiritual and the mundane are woven together so that one can hardly distinguish the difference.

Here the sense of time is non linear which can be a bit disorienting at first and takes a while to relax into it. The different sense of what is important to traditional Balinese people is palpable and evident every day. It’s truly like entering into a different reality.

Pictures to follow when internet problems improve. 

Bye for now.

 

Balinese cooking class in Casa Luna

Ganesh guards the entrance to the path that leads to our bungalows

Tuesday, May 4, 2013

It’s 5:30 am in Bali. It’s the afternoon on Monday, your time. The roosters begin their crowing at around 4 am here. It’s reminiscent of my time in the Peace Corps in Ecuador. At this moment I’m hearing a symphony of sounds---the serenade of the croaking frogs, high-pitched humming of the cicadas, and the cacophony of screeching and singing from many species of colorful birds. Life is singing out it’s full glory.

Our little bungalows are surrounded by exotic plants that look like gigantic versions of some of the houseplants we have at home, along with the ubiquitous coconut palm trees, papaya trees, and the banana plants. Just beyond our patch of tropical forest are the rice paddies. Off the beaten path where we are staying, one can still imagine oneself being in paradise.

The students are staying at a different hotel from the OG’s (older generation) as we’re referred to. It’s a ten minute walk down a little hill to get to their bungalows. It’s heartwarming to see how the students are unfolding on this trip. Marina from Cochiti Pueblo, student at the Santa Fe Indian School, said she had never hung out with non-natives before and that she was learning a lot about herself. Sidney from Santa Fe High School countered that she had never experienced being the only “white” girl in the group and it helped her to get a different perspective on what it’s like being in the minority. Jorge whose parents are from Mexico was initially shy and silent. Now he speaks up with more confidence in his voice and has even begun to smile and laugh out loud along with the other kids.

Each day Gaylon and Zinnia choose a different kid to be in charge of the YGs (young generation) group to develop leadership skills. In the restaurants, for example, the YGs sit off by themselves. The kid in charge for the day is given a certain amount of money to cover food expenses which requires calculating the maximum amount each of their mates can spend on the meals, with enough left over for taxes and tips. The kid in charge is responsible for making sure everyone gets up on time, no one in the YG group gets lost, and that all get back home to their bungalows safely at the end of the day. Of course, they have the back up of the OGs if anything critical should occur while they’re practicing their leadership skills.

Yesterday I skipped my gamelan lesson and went to a cooking class with Steve Simon, an OG who is on the trip to see how his charitable foundation can offer financial support for the Bali Art Project. He has been to Bali many times since the late 1980’s so he knows his way around well. The cooking class was held in an outdoor pavilion that was part of an elegant hotel where Steve spent his honeymoon many years ago. The class was definitely one of the highlights of the trip so far. It was four hours of sensuous smells and tastes. First we learned about the many exotic spices that are an everyday part of the meals here. Apparently, the women freshly grind and mash the spices every morning with mortar and pestle. The smells are divine. We made several dishes, including fish curry with freshly made coconut milk. We also steamed banana leaf packets filled with fish and rice. We served up our marvelous concoctions on plates lined with banana leaves and bowls made of banana leaves which looked like origami creations.

After our marvelous lunch, we decided to devote the entire day to sensuality. Steve and I went back to the spa where we had the first massage and indulged in a second. Actually, Steve has been getting massages every day. They cost around $20 and are really luxurious. I think I’m finally unwinding.

Below are some pictures that I meant to put in the prior posts, but uploading is a very tedious and slow process here because of the weak internet connection.

Protectress of the plants

ceremonial dance classes for young girls

Wood carver

Traditional art at Arma Museum

part of gamelan percussion instruments

Guardian spirit. Good and Evil represented by black and white cloth

Ducks on their way to the rice paddies to eat insects

Rice paddies behind our bungalows

Percussion and Painting

Zinnia in front of Gamelon Temple

Jacob playing the gamelan drums

Yesterday, after our silent sunrise walk along the rice paddies, and after breakfast at our bungalow balconey, we walked to our gamelan class. Gamelan is the traditional music of Bali, made with percussion instruments of various kinds, like ornate drums and elaborate metal xylophones struck with little hammers.  The gamelan instruction took place in a temple-like class room, full of statues of different spirits, infused with incense and the smell of spices. The instructors were dressed in their finest sarongs and headgear that looks like colorful headbands tied with giant fancy knots in the front. This particular way of dressing is reserved for special occasions and for the frequent ceremonies that are part of everyday life in Bali. In fact, we had been instructed to carry a sarong and sash with us at all times in case we came across a ceremony and wanted to participate.

Each of us was placed on a little wooden stool in front of an instrument and instructed in how to play a short piece which we played probably over one hundred times. At first it was cacophony as we struggled to remember the sequence. But after about 15 minutes, we had the little piece down and sounded like we were almost ready to go public with our music. What happened over the course of the next 90 minutes of pure repetition was unexpected. We all had a look of being in an altered state of consciousness, a state in which the mind is empty of all thought, a kind of bliss.  I’ve noticed in my travels that traditional cultures often use repetitive sounds and movements to rise beyond the physical plane, with all of its pain and worries, to achieve a state of emptiness, devoid of thought.

Picture of dancer at Gamelan Temple

The kids were all smiling as we left our musical sanctuary and re-entered into the chaos in the main street. On the way to eat lunch, we stopped at one of the many beautiful structures interspersed throughout the city. We went to a former high court, now made into a museum. The ceilings and walls were painted with religious deities and spirits and the rooms were full of guardian spirits to protect the place.  We also passed the personal temple of the royal family of Bali.                      

  Housing compound of our gamelan teacher

The afternoon was spent getting instruction in drawing and painting Balinese style. My painting juices have not flowed for about 40 years, so I was not too productive. In fact, the kind and gentle instructor took my canvas from me with a sweet smile on his beautiful face and simply created a drawing for me as I looked on in amazement and with appreciation for being rescued from painter’s block.

That evening, before going to bed, I went to the spot near the pool where we can receive spotty internet connection. I sat next to a woman who was here with her step daughter, a student at Santa Fe High School, who had been on the Bali trip last year and was determined to come back again on her own. She worked 3 jobs while completing her senior year to save up enough money to make the trip back to Bali possible. She timed the trip so it would be around the same time as our group was here. She asked her stepmother to go with her. The stepmother is a firefighter/EMT from Los Alamos. She told me all the details about the fires in the Pecos and in Jemez and also showed me a picture of what the skies looked like in Santa Fe yesterday. I’m terribly sorry to hear this news.  And I’m also thankful that I’m here where it rains very hard for about a half hour every day. I can only imagine what you all must be feeling with the heat, the drought, and the smoke.

Keeping out the evil spirits--maybe he'll keep away the drought

Today we went to a museum called Arma that was created by a local Balinese man who had lived in New York City in the past. He had a vision to make a beautiful place where Balinese culture could be exhibited and celebrated. He sold Balinese art in the States until he raised enough money to materialize his dream. In the peaceful and elegant sanctuary he created, we saw many amazing works of art. My favorite form of art was the traditional dance class for the young girls from around the age of three to about eight years old. It was so sweet to watch these tiny, young girls in their little sarongs and sashes learning the stylized movements with their hands and feet.

Guardian spirit of the home

I feel I’ve finally landed here in Bali in mind and body and am starting to feel more myself. For the first few days I was deeply tired—probably a combination of jet lag and recovery from a very long journey, sensitivity to the heat and humidity, and finally unwinding from working so intensely the weeks before departure.

Selamat Malam (good night)