By Dorathea Thompson, January 2010

Strolling through the back alleys of a small village outside Ubud we heard faint voices in the background. We were following the sounds to their source when a wave of children rushed towards us jumping for joy with the broadest of smiles; hands and arms gesticulating warm hellos in the hot Bali air. This spontaneous joy and enthusiasm continued unabated as we reached out our hands to greet them and continued in intensity up to the moment we said our good byes.

I was immediately moved, touched to the core by this show of authentic and spontaneous joy and warmth and later I became curiously fascinated by the question: what is it about these Balinese children that allows such joy, warmth and openness to flow spontaneously?

What has engendered the flowering of such positive attributes?

How is it that these children possess such a sense of happiness?

We humans are all devout followers of this god named Happiness and pursue the ideal in myriad ways, some through possessions, others through fame, partnership, religion, enlightenment; even the drug addict is in search, though misguidedly, of the elixir called happiness.

Both personally and professionally we all spend a vast amount of our time and energy in search of it.

I thought of a comment often uttered by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, “We human beings are all the same, we all possess the same desire, WE ALL WANT TO BE HAPPY.” Happiness is the common denominator that connects us in our shared humanity.

Then I was back with my question: What was it about these Balinese children that engendered such a flowering of this coveted thing called Happiness?

I did consider the fact that since my husband and I are Westerners, we were an oddity, an exotic apparition to these village children. This certainly could account for some degree of exuberance but this same factor could just as easily have evoked fear or shyness. Instead we were privileged to be in the presence of pure, unchoreographed joy.

My husband Wayne and I went to Bali in December of 2009. When I started making plans I went to my library to pull out a travel book about Indonesia that I had purchased some time before. Tucked inside the book I found the original sales receipt dated 1989, over 20 years ago. Clearly, this was a trip long in the making.

After settling into Bali, I quickly found myself wanting to break all ties to my normal world and to immerse myself in becoming intimate with the people and culture of Bali. I found this rather easy to do since the people are so willing to allow you entry into their world. When a Balinese meets you there are the predictable questions: Where you from? How long you in Bali? Where you stay? I came to understand that this was their way of connecting, of breaking the walls that divide us and of allowing one human being to make a more intimate connection with the other. The other is not just your driver or cook; he is Wayan or Made. Then there were their captivating smiles that melt your heart and leave an imprint there forever. Photographing them was a joy. While they went about, unfazed by our presence, doing whatever they were doing while I snapped away, whether it was placing offerings at the temple, or chatting with their friends, as soon as I engaged them in conversation they were immediately responsive with their open smiles. Being photographed was not an intrusion into their space or privacy, but rather a privilege. If I asked them to pose for a photograph, they would inevitably respond positively with a smile and end our exchange with a thank you.

To understand the children of Bali I felt I needed to understand the people and culture of the island. But I wanted to do this not primarily as a historical or scholarly research on the subject but rather as a mosaic, pieced together from personal threads. Such a mosaic is of course always informed by the totality of our personal experiences and our life’s work. Woven into the pattern is my love of travel, my work as an integrative psychoanalyst, my practices of Yoga and Buddhism and my love for the arts as a path back to the deepest self.

The Balinese people, in general, possess genuine warmth, openness, patience and an authentic good-hearted altruistic nature such as I have never encountered before in a collective group. A small but significant and refreshing attitude that we repeatedly noticed when visiting a boutique was that we were greeted as warmly when we left empty handed as when we first approached the shop.

Our first stay in Bali was at a small villa in Kerobokan, some way out in the country and a short distance beyond Semanak. It was a lovely, unpretentious traditional villa, consisting of circular structures, each one having a ground floor and top-level room, each structure comprising 2 units. There were a total of 7 units with an open area where breakfast was served. It was very intimate yet private and the set-up provided us with a perfect opportunity to interact and get to know the staff quite well.

 

WAYAN

Wayan was one of the first Dewani staff members we got to know. The Villa provided transport to Semanyak and Kurta, areas full of good eateries, galleries and shops. On the 15 – 20 minute car ride we would chat about a host of topics. There was something about Wayan that made one fond of him at once. He was warm, with a quick intelligence, always on the look out for an opportunity to be of service or to expose us to something new. Whatever we asked for he would never say no, even to impossible requests, but would simply say, “I will see what I can do.” More often than not, he would come through.

One day the string on my crystal necklace broke and the beautiful multi-faceted hand cut pieces all came spilling on the floor. I asked Wayan what he thought I might do? I was thinking more along the lines of a referral to someone or to a shop able to restring the piece. Two days later Wayan presented me with a little wrapped package containing my necklace perfectly restrung. In his typically animated style he explained that he had gone out and purchased a very strong nylon thread and had restrung it himself. He told us that he knew a great deal about different threads since as a boy he loved flying kites. He had made certain to get the right thread because he didn’t want the necklace to break again.

I was speechless.

Wayan possessed a strong pride in his heritage and was very interested in the sacred ceremonies of his land, a passion I certainly shared. My husband and I were invited to participate in the elaborate cremation ceremony of a village high priest. Before and after the ceremony, I asked Wayan endless questions about cremation ceremonies in his village. Our conversations greatly informed and enhanced my understanding of the one we had actually participated in.

Wayan would often preface his sentences with, “we here in Bali.” “We here in Bali believe in karma”, he once said. “We must not do anything to hurt anyone. We believe in gods and spirits, there are good spirits and bad ones and we must make offering to the gods to keep the bad spirits away.”

One day we, and our newly found New Zealand friends, went to visit an orphanage. Sadly the whole operation turned out to be a scam. The woman who ran the orphanage who appeared quite modest and altruistic was actually rich in both means and connections. She was using the children as slave labor and appropriating all the donations. Just a month earlier a child from the orphanage had died in a fall at a construction sight whilst working as cheap child labor. (I will be addressing the shadow aspect of the Balinese culture later but suffice it to now say that even Bali is not immune from the demons of greed, deception and cruelty.) We were shocked and terribly disheartened by the unraveling of these facts and when we later told Wayan the story, he was moved to tears. “Helping others is something I want to do,” he said. I will start a business and I will keep 30% of the money and give 70% away.”

Working selflessly was something this 29-year-old did without reservations or feelings of imposition. When I asked Wayan if he had a special girl in his life he confided in us that his sister was about to get married and that he didn’t have time for a wife at the moment. “A relationship needs time and attention or else you lose the girl,” he said.

“Right now I have no time for girl. I must work hard to help pay for my sister’s wedding.”

Then he shared with us a particular fact about his family, starting off by saying, “This is not a normal Balinese custom but in my house I have two mothers.” Wayan was the eldest of his own mother’s four children.

At some point his father took on another woman as a partner and with her fathered another four children. At the time when all this first came to the surface, Wayan did recall that his mother experienced a good amount of stress but things were eventually worked out and the two women have lived in the same family compound peacefully with their respective families for many years now.

I observed a quality of fluidity in the Balinese personality that was remarkable. I would see Wayan shuttling guests back and forth to the airport and back and forth to Seminyak and Kuta. The next moment there he would be, helping clean rooms, doing bookings, filling in at the front desk, doing office accounting or successfully taking on the role of breakfast chef when Made, the full time chef, had a family ceremony to attend to. Wayan was able to slide from one role to another with total ease.

Observing such seamless fluidity brought to mind my long time relationship with Zen. As Buddhism spread from India to China to Japan, and so on, each new culture absorbed it into its own pre- existent ways and belief systems. Zen is the Japanese adaptation of Buddhism. Placing strong emphasis on meditation, mindfulness, awareness, it stripped away much of the elaborate ritual, metaphysics and worship of icons present in other Buddhist schools. Zen places a great deal of importance on “Just Sitting” and one is encouraged to spend some time every day in meditation practices. The ultimate goal is to pierce into the true nature of reality and being. In the process of sitting, through self-awareness, one comes to recognize and become very intimate with the nature of the mind, with its repetitive, addictive and petty thoughts and reactions. In so observing one is presented with new possibilities. One can choose to break through old conditioning and old templates, replacing them with healthier thoughts, reactions and behaviors. Ultimately the goal is to find more peace and happiness in one’s daily life. Today in the West, Zen and Psychology have found in each other a mutually supportive partner.

Aside from meditation, Zen places a lot of importance on self-discipline and encourages extended retreats called sesshins. Typically these retreats are held away from the hustle and bustle of ones daily life and in the tranquil setting of nature. It is believed that being in nature informs and instructs our deeper knowing. During, say, a 10-day sesshin, the entire period is spent in silence from the time one rises at 4:30 am to the time one goes to bed at 9:30 pm. Though a large percentage of one’s waking hours are spent on the cushion in meditation, interspersed with these activities are walking meditation, eating meditation and working meditation. During work practice each participant is given a work assignment, be it gardening, kitchen duties, dusting, sweeping or toilet cleaning. Each person, irrespective of title, profession or social standing, at one early point of their Zen sesshin career is assigned to cleaning toilets.

Buddhism teaches that the ultimate cause of all our suffering is Ignorance that plays out in our incessant desires and aversions. We are forever ignorantly desiring and needing certain things while at the same time ignorantly holding aversions to hosts of other things and making efforts to stay away from them. This attachment and aversion is predicated on our ingrained belief in a self-existent small ego-self. We need to defend and protect this sense of “Me”, which ultimately when we try to look for it, we cannot find. Buddhism says that this false sense of “I” and who I am and the subsequent need to defend it, all predicated on ignorance, is the very cause to all our suffering and prevents us from experiencing a true, on-going, free-flowing sense of contentment. When we are free from this ingrained sense, we are undisturbed by the moment-to-moment experiences that will inevitably not hold up before the self imposed, elevated status of the ego. When we cease needing to cater to the endless demands of this small ego identity we enter into flow, flexibility, and the ability to dance with whatever life offers and wherever life takes us.

Fluidity and Flow were clearly traits that came easily to Wayan. I saw in him an expanded sense of self-identity. The task or role at hand did not define him. This was not a young man lost in self-absorption, but rather someone present in the here and the now.

As if we weren’t impressed enough with Wayan by the end of our stay at the villa, he presented us with still another generous gift after we had checked out of the villa in the form of a very sweet act of kindness.

On the last full day before our scheduled departure I inquired about the lovely bed runners with matching pillows in our room. These wide strips of silk fabric in complementary two tone colors and embossed with images went draped across the bed below the pillows to create a casual yet dramatic look. We were shunted off to a back-alley workshop where the runners were made. It appeared that the hotel manager had some kick back arrangement with the shop and this was certainly not the first instance of such annoying traps set by him. For instance, he was very keen on offering car and driver packages but after being given a very bad driver and at the same time becoming very much aware of his scheme, we simply kept saying, “No thank you,” and eventually he left us alone.

When we reached the bed runner shop, they didn’t have the size and color I wanted but offered to have it ready for pick up on our way to the airport in a week’s time, a considerable detour on the way from Ubud to the airport in terms of time and traffic. All the same, I liked the bed set enough to agree to make the extra effort. On the ride back to the Villa, Wayan said, “If I can, I will check when they finish and take my scooter and bring it to your next hotel.” We had already told him that our next destination was Ubud, a one and a half hour drive from the villa! The day before we checked out of our hotel in Ubud, Wayan showed up, runner in hand and soaking wet from being caught in a late afternoon downpour while on his motor bike but smiling and good natured as always.

 

MADE

Wayan, although very special was not unique in his remarkable personal qualities. Equally captivating was Made, the villa breakfast chef. Made always wore a broad smile and a joyful disposition. She would remember precisely what you had ordered the day before and all of your preferences. Couples would remark on how playful and engaging Made was with their children.

Amongst the standard breakfast fare at the villa was packaged orange juice. On the third day, Made noticed that I had passed on the packaged juice and, knowing I had been going to the local market to buy fresh papaya, she marched off to the staff kitchen and came back with a fresh papaya smoothie.

My husband Wayne was quite fond of her omelets with fresh grated cheese. When we commented on how tasty they were she replied, “Of course, I make them with love.”

By now, perhaps the reader may be thinking, well the staff were probably generously compensated and that was what was prompting this exceptional attention and service but this was not at all the case. It was only when we checked out of villa and were about to leave that we gave all of the staff members a monetary gift. In fact, when a week later Wayan brought the runner to our hotel in Ubud, we felt it inappropriate to tip him. The whole staff had begun to relate to us and treat us like family and we felt that a monetary compensation might debase his generous act.

Made’s good nature was contagious, yet her life was not easy. She would get up at 5 AM to be at work by 6AM. She would work there until 2 PM then back home to tend to the house, children and cooking. She was a married woman with two boys and lived in the traditional extended family compound with her husband’s family. When women in Bali marry, they leave their family behind and move in with the in-laws, living with their husband’s brother’s family and his parents. A family compound may typically consist of eight to twenty adults and children.

One day I asked Made, what she would be doing that afternoon. “I am going to my husband’s family farm to harvest the rice,” she said. Now, if you have ever witnessed manual rice harvesting you will know that it is labor intensive. When you add to that the hot afternoon sun and the high Bali humidity you have the recipe for very physically challenging work. With her broad smile Made added, “But I enjoy, we are all there together.” The next day I could tell that she was physically tired but her emotional disposition was unchanged.

Both Made and Wayan were always ready to go beyond the call of duty and both wore a lot of hats, at work as well as at home. We would see Made filling in at the front desk, acting as a travel advisor to the guests, reprimanding the staff when necessary and acting as consultant to the villa manager. At home she would participate in all the domestic duties as well as ceremonial and village activities. We likewise observed in her this flexibility and ability to flow with ease.

Being naturally curious and particularly fascinated by Balinese culture, I would ask her a million questions about her life, her culture, the ceremonies. She was hugely generous, sharing all she could, straining to find the right words to convey sometimes-complex concepts.

I knew that by 11AM her chef duties had lightened up and so we would have our breakfast late and sit by the kitchen as she prepared our food and chat for long stretches of time.

Days after harvesting the family rice, Made told us of some unfortunate developments: her family had taken the rice to the mill to be dehusked but when they returned to pick it up they found that half was missing. They reported the discrepancy to the owner who said that the mill workers had most likely stolen the rice and that he would make up the loss by returning the full amount of rice to Made and her family and deducting the equivalent amount of money from the workers’ salaries. This was completely unacceptable to Made and her family who strongly felt that outsiders and not the mill staff had stolen the rice. I remember her saying, “How can we take the money from these poor people who work so hard for so little? We cannot do that to them and then also it would be such bad karma.” “What will you do?” I asked. “Oh, just let it go, it is not that important.”

Tibetan Buddhism with its clear philosophical tenets and heavy emphasis on logic as a means of understanding the nature of reality is a good source to turn to in trying to understand the principles of karma in the Eastern mind. Tibetan Buddhist logic posits that karma must exist since all other possible hypothesis do not stand the test of reason. Where do things come from? Only 3 possibilities are postulated: they can come from 1) a creator god 2) the chaos theory, that is, things just happen and we have no control or 3) by cause and effect. According to the third theory, we have put into motion, both in this life and previous lives, action that is producing a corresponding result in the present moment. Using applied logic these Buddhists conclude that the first two hypotheses must be false and that therefore the third must hold. Karma can be described, in a nutshell, by sayings such as: what goes around comes around, like creates like, all things come from similar causes and conditions. The concept of Karma is far from being unscientific since it posits a cause and effect relationship based on similar causes and conditions and maintains that there is a law and an order to things. We are not mere victims of chance or of a malevolent or benevolent god or of forces over whom we have no power. Ultimately we are each the creator and the cause of our own reality. Within this belief structure there is hope for redemption in that we can choose to start putting in place action that will generate positive karma and avoid and prevent the formation of negative karmic seeds.

Leaving aside the merits or flaws of this tenet, it can certainly be argued that the genuine collective belief in such a worldview does engender a sense of personal responsibility and accountability for our actions and a benevolence and altruism that affects the collective social order enormously. Again using a term often uttered by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, it is wise to practice: “Enlightened Self Interest”. Karma, furthermore, answers the question of why we should do unto others as we would want them to do onto us.

Made felt that the option of taking the rice workers money was not acceptable from two different viewpoints, from that of benevolence and compassion and that of the belief in the law of karmic payback.

By the time the end of our stay approached Made had become quite attached to both of us. Days before our departure she began saying, “I don’t want you to leave, I am so sad.” She would refer to me as her sister and on the one occasion when we were away all day she lamented the next morning that she had missed us both and my warm morning hug. I had likewise become very fond of Made and when we said our good-byes we were both struggling to hold back our tears.

 

KETUT

Our New Zealand friends turned us on to Ketut, the car driver. “He is always cheerful and smiling,” they said, describing their time with him.

The Island of Bali is relatively small, only 87 miles in length, east to west, and 50 miles north to south, so a very good way to see the island is to hire a car and driver for the day and visit a few favorite sights along the way.

We hired Ketut for several day trips while staying at the villa. Ketut was in fact very joyful, always good tempered, respectful, thoughtful and yet very professional. We asked him to transfer us from Kerbokan to our hotel in Ubud. A few days before the end of our stay in Bali, I called him to arrange transport to the airport but the day before I had to phone him to cancel our arrangement since our hotel informed us that they provided a complementary airport shuttle. Knowing that Ketut would now have to rearrange his personal schedule and adjust his expectations, I was bracing myself to hear some disappointment in his voice or at least a pause in our conversation, instead the conversation flowed seamlessly. “Of course you should take the hotel taxi, it is free,” he said. The conversation went on with total ease and with a fluidity matching the rhythm one can often observe in the lives of the Balinese people.

This brought to mind something that had happened on one of our day trips with Ketut: while driving north past Denpasar, we had a near miss with an approaching vehicle, the kind of incident that tends to send westerners into road rage or, at the very least, engenders a prolonged, if more self contained, discussion about what had just happened, a retelling of the drama and a verbal blasting of the driver for his incompetence. Ketut appeared completely unfazed and went straight on with the conversation saying, “Nice weather we are having today, not so humid.”

 

A HISTORICAL FOOTNOTE

As one gleans an outline of Balinese history one is struck by a peculiar sequence of events that took place in the 14th and 15th centuries. In the mid 14th century Java conquered Bali and both the religion and refined arts, as seen in Javanese dance, sculpture and architecture swiftly spread from eastern Java to Bali. In the 15th century, Java was being overrun by the Muslim invasion, and that influence was taking over Java’s political, social and economic foundation. In response to these pressures, there was a mass migration to Bali of the crème de la crème of Java’s society, comprising scholars, dancers and high Hindu priests.

They collected together their sacred books, historical records, secret texts and took with them their customs, their rituals and their way of life. In Bali, they superimposed their system onto a preexisting and rich aboriginal, animistic culture, developing a uniquely Hindu-Bali strand. What we see in Bali today is a fusion of these two powerful streams. Although Indian Hindu culture is vastly different from the Hindu culture of Bali, it is easy to imagine that Bali today holds remnants of a Hindu culture lost to India.

 

ART

Bali celebrates an unending stream of ceremonies and festivals, comprising music, dance, drama and chanting.

Balinese dance is visually stunning and at the center of Balinese life.

Every Balinese child, boys and girls, from age four to junior high school takes up dance. There are numerous styles of traditional dance: the Legong, Janger, Barong and many others. The Barong dance is staged throughout the island and, as with all of Balinese arts, originated as a sacred ceremony. The Barong reenacts, in pantomime form and with elaborate costumes, the battle of the sacred white dragon Barong, representing the benevolent white force pitted against Rangda, the evil witch. It is a tale of the conquest of good over evil, redemption and immortality. Every village maintains all the accouterments to stage such a production and every member of the village participates in its production, as costume maker, actor, musician, stage director, or is involved in the ritual or food preparation for the festivities.

On every ordinary day, women in the family compound create intricate offerings trays and objects of offering made from scraps found in nature.

The Balinese paint, on boards and on paper, intricate scenes from the Indian epic, the Mahabharata, or more simply create a beautiful rendition of the goddess Saraswati, embodiment of wisdom, beauty and the arts.

Excess stone and wood is chiseled away to unveil gods and goddess or forces of nature and legendary characters and creatures such as Arjuna atop the mythological bird the Garuda or the dancing Sita (Shiva).

The objective of these ancient arts, be they dance, painting, drama or music, is to educate, to inform and to provide the psyche with a large canvas onto which images, impulses and aspects of itself can be reflected. Oft told morality and mystery stories reinforce the collective consciousness with certain values and beliefs. The Balinese believe that the artistic creative impulse is a gift from the gods and whatever they create is to be returned to the gods as offerings. In the Balinese language the word artist does not exist, a graphic artist, for instance, is referred to as the “one who makes pictures.” A completed piece of traditional art was originally never signed; the custom of signing and dating started only in 1927 with the onset of western influences. The same exact rendering, for example of the goddess Saraswati is painted or carved again and again and it is the quality of the carving that is of value not originality of expression. A perfectly represented Saraswati need not be improved upon and it is said that in sacred art the goal is to become the object that is being created.

 

CEREMONIES, RELIGION & MYTHOLOGY

Everyday, at sunrise, midday and sunset, throughout the island of Bali, offerings are placed on the altars of temples of which there are a minimum of 20,000. They are dispersed in villages, homes, rice paddy, on beaches, inside caves, and in countless demarked places considered dangerous where benevolent spirits are invoked and malevolent spirits appeased to ward off misfortune. This ritual of daily offering engages the individual in a personal, social and collective undertaking. Women spend a tremendous amount of the day, every day, creating offering made from palm leaves, twigs and branches. Priests, women and men, are daily engaged in the assembly and presentation of these offerings.

Individuals, families, villages and collective groups spend a large percentage of their income in the making and purchasing of materials for their offering.

In addition to the regular offerings there are more than sixty annual religious holidays and an unending string of other types of festivals, ceremonies and rites of passage: cremation ceremonies, wedding ceremonies, tooth-filing ceremonies. There are feasts to mark the child’s third day after birth, forty-second day after birth, a hundred and fifth day after birth, (half a year in the Balinese 210 day annual calendar) and his or her first birthday celebration. There are fasting, purification and retreat rites and celebration of wealth and learning ceremonies. There are festivals in honor of gods and goddesses, many of the Hindu gods such as Saraswati and Ganesh are included in the pantheon of gods and there are a host of animistic gods such as the rice goddess, mythical turtles, sun gods and deer gods. Ceremonies are performed at various points in the planting and harvesting cycles to ensure auspicious outcomes.

The Balinese believe that the supreme god, Sanjhyng Widhi, owns their island and that it has been handed down to its people in sacred trust and the people must show their gratitude by engaging in such symbolic activities.

Throughout the island one sees the triple-faced god, known as the Shrine of the Three Faces, which parallels the Hindu pantheon of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, the creator, the preserver and the destroyer, respectively. Such an icon can be seen as a reminder of the unending cycle of change, of the ebb and flow in life, all necessary and coexisting as part of a greater whole. Life is seen as a kaleidoscope of unending change and even destruction has its necessary role as the precursor to creation.

Every year, for an entire day all of Bali STOPS, airports shut down, transport ceases, all businesses and schools close. As Made explained over breakfast, this is a time when “we shut off the lights and meditate.” While going inward, cultivating an inner dimension, is one part of the day’s purpose, this annual Balinese festival called Njepi, is also a time where the collective comes together to purify the island of its malevolent spirits. Great offerings are set up at crossroads created to lure the malevolent spirits away from their villages and cast them into the sea. The high priest chants incantations accompanied by a village procession.

Every month, Full Moon Ceremonies with elaborate offerings and beautiful traditional dances are celebrated throughout the island. It is rewarding to muse on the impact on the collective Balinese psyche of such a ritual, re-enacted again and again on countless occasions.

The moon in many traditions is the mystic representation of the divine Feminine principle: menstruating women are governed by a 28-day lunar cycle; the ocean waves fall under her influence; the moon as a force participates in the ebb and flow and in the cycles as does life itself.

One can look upon the Balinese belief in a myriad of gods and goddesses with all of its elaborate rituals and dismiss it as sheer polytheistic superstition and archaic behavior. But if we might look a little more closely we may glean a reflection of some deeper truths.

The great scholar, author, professor and mythologist, Joseph Campbell, spoke of the power of myths and the mythic imagination to define us and give breath, scope and depth to our lives. In his book, Creative Mythology, The Masks of God, Campbell enumerates the various functions of mythology:

“The first function of mythology is to reconcile waking consciousness to the mysterium tremendum et fascinans of this universe as it is, the second being to render an interpretative total image of the same, as known to contemporary consciousness. Shakespeare’s definition of the function of his art, “to hold as t’were, the mirror up to nature,” is thus equally a definition of mythology. It is the revealing to waking consciousness of the power of its own sustaining source.

The third function is the enforcement of a moral order…

The fourth and most vital and critical function of a mythology then, is to foster the centering and unfolding of the individual in integrity, in accord with d) himself (the microcosm), c) his culture (the mesocosm), b) the universe (the macrocosm), and a) ultimately that awesome mystery which is both beyond and within the individual and within all things.”

Sri Aurobindo, The Indian poet, mystic, revolutionary and visionary, in his commentaries and reflections on the Upanishads, the ancient texts from which much eastern spiritual thought is derived, echoes a similar thought when he says:

“The gods are Brahman (ultimate representation of all of life in its static form) representing Itself in cosmic Personalities expressive of the one Godhead who, in their impersonal action, appear as the various play of the principles of Nature.”

Perhaps it can be said that these gods and goddesses provide us with a canvass upon which our psyche and imagination can experience and express the totality of itself. Perhaps they are a reminder to our deep psychic knowing of our own multi dimensionality. Perhaps their existence in the mythic imagination makes for an expanded sense of Self, of Order, of Mystery and Belonging.

In performing monthly rituals such as the full moon celebration, the Balinese people are perhaps reminded, consciously, unconsciously or a bit of both, of their interconnection to a greater mystery with its ongoing cycle of change.

The Balinese have a strong sense of identity as members of a family, a village, and a culture, and of being in relationship with the gods, with the earth and with nature itself. It might therefore be fair to say that there is a healthy feeling of belonging to something greater; they are not isolated islands, lost at sea in existential angst, but rather active participants in a greater whole. Perhaps a certain sense begins to emerge from the ink block of life, to be no longer a mystery but rather an inner knowing.

It is often said that in modern times we have lost our sense of the sacred and of the richness of the gods and goddesses and have replaced this deep longing with pop culture and Hollywood stars.

 

THAT SAID

Just as at the onset of a passionate love affair, when infatuation is in full bloom, one may, in experiencing the beauty of Bali, become over-enamored by the newness of the relationship, looking through rose-colored glasses, seeing only what is wholesome and beautiful and ignoring the flaws and all that still needs to mature. This perspective cannot of course cover the totality and so it is important not to idealize too much, nor to ignore what still is in need of transforming and the shadow aspect of the culture.

The Balinese people are highly superstitious for one thing and occasionally one notices taxi driver who give off clear signs of alcohol or substance abuse.

Patriarchy, as a social system, has dominated the entire globe for a minimum of 3000 year and much, much longer, depending on one’s sources. Bali is no exception: Balinese women must take on a subservient role to their husband and the man has the final say in family affairs. Women leave their homes when they are married and must fit in with, and adjust to, their husband’s extended family.

Mother-in- laws are said to be demanding and sometimes domineering, putting young new brides through painful ordeals.

Bali absorbed from India many of its fine arts, its secret and ancient rituals, its inner sciences, metaphysics and philosophies. Along with the best that India offered, Bali also took on some of its less enlightened characteristic such as the caste system. Today in Bali the young generation does not take caste designation very seriously but the older generation still has strong ties to it.

Kickbacks and political and government corruption are rampant. Repeatedly one experiences hotel managers finagling the system, steering you to their contacts in return for kickbacks. A certain Balinese mindset has emerged that feels justified in such a reimbursement system. Considering themselves underpaid in their line of work and finding themselves unable to provide for their families, educate their children or maintain a certain social appearance for their caste, family or social standing, they feel it’s the only way to make ends meet.

It is believed by some that this deeply ingrained system of corruption is attributable to the influence of the many outside groups that have dominated and victimized the island. In the past 500 years, Bali has been invaded and occupied by the Portuguese, the English, the Dutch, and the Japanese; nowadays the Chinese have a strong political and financial hold on Bali. There’s a widespread supposition that the most recent influence to dominate and threaten to erode the island’s cultural fibers is modern day tourism.

That said, Bali’s ancient and strongly rooted animistic foundations which view all of nature as sacred, overlaid with an elevated Indian Hindu inspired system which wove art, myth, cosmology, morality, ethics and karma together has produced a world view where the sacred dimension continues to exist and where the sense of humankind as an integral part of that divinely inspired tapestry has not been eroded. The psyche of the Balinese soul strikes the visitor as compassionate and their heart as altruistic, with spirit and warmth that radiates like the sun.

Today, the concept of human evolution is no longer viewed as a theory but as a fact by most in the civilized western world. If one holds this to be true, then it would stand to reason that humans must evolve socially and culturally as well as biologically. Perhaps Bali, in its most enlightened aspects, provides signposts to, and images of, what such an evolution might be like: Bali may provide us with clues to our endless human pursuit of the god called Happiness.

It has been a privilege to be immersed in the Balinese culture, even if for too short a time. Being with the Balinese people, in their simplicity and authenticity, absorbing their culture, observing them in their milieu, interacting with them and coming to know them has been a deeply rewarding experience. The knowledge garnered has been wonderful but what has been truly priceless have been the rich experiences that have touched our hearts and left an imprint there forever.

 

January 2010

Pondicherry, India