This journey has, at various points, had several themes by which I hoped to complete it. Born from selfishness, I envisioned this trip as a way to reward myself for a very stressful, yet extremely successful year of teaching. It was to be my escape- my chance to spend time and money on myself. I had only one purpose when I first began planning: to surf. I researched surfing and found that, for fifty dollars per day, I could surf some of the most unimaginable breaks in the world. I would, when I returned, be qualified to consider myself a true surfer, having completed my pilgrimage to a surfing paradise. I knew nothing of the people, or of other sights and things to do on the small island at the elbow of the Indonesian islands. I had considered possibly moving on through some of the other islands. But that passed quite easily when I pictured myself sitting on a beach, curling my toes in the sand, while drinking a cold beverage and watching the Sun set over the Indian Ocean. And so, from selfishness, I found myself landing in Bali after nearly 30 hours of time travel across the vast Pacific Ocean, by way of the northern route that pierced the Arctic Circle, with no idea where or what to do from there.
From selfishness, my journey evolved into compassion. What at first seemed like pleasant
welcomings from various Balinese men and women as I walked through the streets quickly reveled itself to be the reality of their existence. The Balinese people were selling any and everything they had to offer: from massages to t-shirts, sarongs and sandals to motorbikes and transport to places like Uluwalu and Padang Padang. I began to realize that these people were so desperate for a sale that they would sit for hours in the sun calling out to each and every passing tourist. Instantly my selfishness gave way to compassion for these people, and I tried to think of creative ways to help them. I did not have the money to offer them, and I did not have room nor did I need the things that they had to sell. I had time. But it seemed that they most wanted money. They had been conditioned by years and years of tourism to desire not the friendship or companionship of kindhearted visitors, but rather the cash that would bring them closer and closer to their dreams or, in most cases, would allow them one more day of living a pauper’s life on an island full of other people’s dreams.
Compassion led my journey toward discovery and learning, as I found myself engaged in conversations with strangers I now call friends. I stopped worrying about trying to see and do everything Bali had to offer, found a quiet place to live in a busy part of town, and made myself a neighbor to the people that lived and worked nearby. I learned that many people in Kuta, the tourist capital of Bali, are not from the city, nor are many of them even from the island itself. Many of the now Balinese workers are from the islands of Java and Sumatra, and have migrated here to face this desperation only because it offered the possibility of being only slightly less punishing than the desperation they left behind on their island. I learned that the average worker will spend between eight to twelve hours at work six days a week, making less than the equivalent of fiveUS dollars for their efforts. That is, if they are fortunate enough to have a salaried position. I made friends with the servers in a restaurant around the corner from my hotel, making it a habit to eat two out of my three daily meals there, and learned all sorts of information ranging from how many children in Bali are named “One,” “Two,” Three,” “Four,” or “Five” depending on which order they came into the world, to the fact that one month in an fairly well-equipped apartment would cost me three hundred thousand Indonesian Rupiah, roughly the equivalence of thirty five US dollars.
As I learned more about the people and the culture, my journey led me toward the theme of Perfection which, in itself, encompasses each of the previous three themes and stands alone as its own. Everything I have been a part of here, from walking through crowded streets to standing in line at the bank to exchange traveler’s checks, has been born of the Profound. I have, in moving from my selfish state toward compassion and then toward discovery and learning, spent every moment on this tiny island in pursuit of Perfection, while being constantly reminded of the Profound which keeps me actively involved in living a simple life here. And in seeking this Perfection I have, for the first time, come to understand the basic premise of the Hindu religion to which so many of the Balinese make daily offerings. As I sit here on the porch of my hotel room, looking at a tropical plant that has both birds of paradise and orchids growing naturally from the side of its trunk, listening to Jack Johnson as the wind races through the courtyard and convinces the trees to dance with it through this hot and humid July afternoon, I realize that Perfection is in everything in this moment, including myself. Perfection, as the Hindu’s would explain, is the natural world and everything it now includes. God, called by different names depending on the time and place, exists in everything at every moment. Our life then should be the constant praise of this Perfection, the constant unraveling of the Profound from every moment, and the constant improvement of self in the process.
There are things here to remind me of home, thus waking me from a rather dreamlike trance I tend to fall into at times. I can, for instance, order a coca-cola at the restaurants, pick up a pack of Oreos at the local convenience store, and step inside of a metered taxi cab. But it is the subtle differences that remind me that my time here, in every moment, is in pursuit of the Profound. I know so little of the local language that I rarely try to speak it, and yet listening to conversation between the workers at my hotel seems as natural as if I had been listening to them speak English. Kuta beach has sand that is just as white and tan and full of broken shells as any beach I have visited back home, and yet there is something in the way it feels between my toes and sticks to my ankles as I walk through it that reminds me that my walk in life is through the design of Perfection. I have become more aware here in Bali of my surroundings- the people, places, and things that make up my every day- and this awareness has brought me peace in knowing that I have purpose on this Earth, and now.
As I have meandered through selfishness and compassion, discovery and learning, I have drifted closer to the understanding of what a small, and yet unimaginably integral, role I play in the unfolding of life. Life, it seems, has become my story. And as a writer carefully chooses the order and placement of words, and a printer carefully marks a white page with black ink in the precise order that the writer designed, I am left to live my life as one character of many intertwined throughout this story. Faces of people I pass on the street have purpose and meaning, and are just as much a part of the Profound and the pursuit of Perfection as I am. Decisions I make, and the pace at which I wander, all give indication of the extent to which I am dancing in the moment. I have realized in Bali, in flashes of clarity, that life is now and I must be aware of this in everything that I do.
I wish sometimes that I could resort back to any one of the three themes I have experienced on this journey, and be perfectly at peace knowing that I had one purpose and would, like a good story, have a resolution at the end of my time here. I wish, for instance, that I could sit on a chair at the beach, drink in hand, and allow my time here to serve me in between surf sessions that begin at dawn and end at sunset. Or I wish that I could walk through the streets dolling out an unending supply of Rupiah to all of the decent and hardworking people that I meet. Or could I possibly find a library full of books on the people and places and culture of Bali, and never once have to walk its busy streets. But, as the Profound exists in every moment, I am becoming more aware through the interweaving themes that Perfection is close to me, but will always be just beyond that which I am capable of obtaining. Like the wind, invisible and yet clearly full of existence as it brushes against my skin, this Perfection surrounds me. And so now I feel I am resolved to create that which so many of the Balinese create each day: a vessel made of palm fronds woven together, full of small tokens of sacrifice to the Profound, and placed diligently at the foot of some small temple or shrine to represent that which has no true face or form. I will call this vessel my heart and my mind, and I will fill them with love and humility, to place it daily at the foot of the temple I will call Time. I will dedicate myself to revealing more truth and love and beauty and Perfection in every moment- even the selfish ones, and the ones in which I am tired, lonely, or scared- and I feel that I will be rewarded in each moment for living in each moment completely and utterly open to the revelation of Perfection.
And if you cannot understand these words, I hope one day you will…
No comments:
Post a Comment