Contrast: oh so useful!

I woke up totally disoriented again this morning, wondering what town in Bali I was in. [This also happened to me yesterday in yoga, following a savasana in which I slipped into a coma-sleep from which I awakened with a start, wondering "who is this stranger talking and where am I?"]

As soon as I realized this morning that I wasn't in Bali anymore and that instead of going to breakfast and practice, I was actually expected to get up and go to work, I had a sense of everything collapsing into one boring sameness.  Which made me a crabby little creature for an hour at least.

I'm making a big effort to go back in memory (assisted by the hundreds of photos we took) to what made this vacation so fantastic.  Largely it was Bali herself, the people themselves, and the dozens of daily ways in which they added a little beauty and grace to every little task.  Like the offering above, in the driveway of Kumara Sakti in Ubud -- an offering of flowers in a little woven basket, put out with some incense first thing in the morning, even though it was sure to be kicked by passers-by and run over by entering vehicles.  No matter what might happen to it, the beautiful gesture was still made, daily, more than once.

The contrast between vacation-life and this, between vacation-me and this, is so sharp, it's a little painful, actually.  I'm trying to regard that pain with gratitude, trying very hard to make something good out of this dejection.  And aware of how ridiculous I am to complain about anything.  After all, almost three weeks in Bali is a great thing, right, something so lucky and wonderful, so how can I complain upon return?  Wah-wah, poor me.  Totally lame.

But really, it's a sharp contrast.

When I opened my eyes this morning, after that first confusion receded and I began to make out the profile of the familiar plants of our garden outside the French doors in the first light of day, I noticed the piles of still unput-away unpacked stuff all over my room.  First task du jour: putting that crap away.

If it's beautiful in Bali, it's largely due to constant effort.  Those offerings don't make themselves, after all.

It was bound to happen that I'd experience this post-vacation crash -- seems inevitable, really -- but I really am trying to make the best of it, transferring the lessons learned in Bali to this life here and now.  OK, so putting away my clothes isn't quite as nice as making an offering of flowers and rice and incense and a little piece of candy and setting it out to beautify the sidewalk, but it's a start.

I'm reminded of a theme on the retreat: sankalpa (intention), which is the combination of two words meaning clarity and purpose.  A person needs clarity to see purpose, to keep purpose sharp in the field of vision so that she can move toward it, consistently, devotedly.  This contrast right now is doing this for me: albeit painfully, helping me stay clear about my own purpose so that I can keep moving toward it.

So if there's nothing on Craig's List right now that allows me to move out of a job that bores me to tears and gives me headaches, that's OK.  It'll come.  Meanwhile, I'll keep fashioning my own little offerings -- a clean room, a strong practice, a thriving garden -- doing the work to make this life beautiful, no matter its conditions, until the time I can change those circumstances and move on to the thing that makes most sense for me.

Until then, making consistent beautiful gestures.  Because actually, those consistent beautiful gestures are the whole point, right?

XX





 

Retreat/Engagement

It's a funny thing about yoga retreats, especially the international kind.  Generally there's a tropical location involved, one in which our dollar travels farther, buys more of a kind of luxury that is truly relaxing and certainly not the norm in our daily lives.  Places where we can bargain items of clothing or jewelry down to less than a tenth of what they would cost us at home, where we are haggling in the tens of thousands but really only quibbling over a quarter or a dollar or two when it comes down to it.  Places where you can get a 75-minute massage for $3.  Eat like a king for $10.

So far I've been on retreats to Mexico, twice, to Peru, and to Bali.  Each trip has been fantastic, combining extended and excellent yoga practice with tourism, relaxation and adventure.  Not one of them has really been a retreat at all in the sense of withdrawing from the world.  We've been fully engaged in our new environment, only retreated from our usual day-to-day.

The latest retreat to Bali -- the aptly named Bali Bhakti Bliss with Laura Christensen -- was no exception: fantastic, truly, and busy.  We had a week in Ubud, a week packed with yoga and visits to temples, to the volcano Gunung Batur, to Nusa Penida for snorkeling; two days in the hills of Munduk, among clove and coffee plantations; four days in Canggu, by the beach.  Each location was gorgeous, the accomodations very nice, food delicious, service excellent.  And always the yoga: deep, intense, life-affirming.

Perhaps because it was Bali, I feel as though I had more conversations with people there, more opportunities to talk with locals, with guides and drivers, to inquire into the conditions of daily life there, a daily life so rich (at least to my eye as an outsider) with ritual, so full of generosity and warmth.

From a taxi driver we learned, as we passed scores of children on motorbikes leaving school at 1pm in Ubud,  that there is no public education in Bali.  To go to school you need to pay.  We confirmed this later with Putu, a trekking guide in Munduk who has two children of his own.  The registration fee, books and uniform cost about $100.  Ongoing tuition, we were told, is about 25,000 Rupiah/month -- $2.50 US -- and this is where the problem lies.  While this may seem such a tiny amount to us Westerners who are accustomed to spending more on a morning cappuccino, many parents are unable to pay this amount.  There are no scholarships available, so those children simply don't go to school.

Meanwhile, I and my yogi companions are snapping up bargains at the market, things we don't really need, spending the equivalent of a child's entire annual tuition on a bag or a bracelet without a second thought.  And then, when reunited at the hotel or in the cafe, gleefully showing off on new acquisitions.

It's not that I feel guilty about any of it.  I don't.  I work hard and am happy to have had the opportunity to be in Bali, to have my experience of it with my beloved teacher and friends and to have spent money which I hope will benefit local people.  I don't see it as an either/or.

I want it to be a both/and.

What I'm researching now is how to add an element of service to our upcoming retreats, to enhance our sense of engagement to the community we are visiting and learning about.  Something small and direct, not burdensome.  I'm not talking about digging latrines or building houses, but perhaps a relationship to a school or a village -- some way of extending the practice off the mat and into the place where we are.

So because my mind is still filled with Bali, I've been researching it a little this evening, and came across Cate Bolt's Project 18. Here's what she has to say about education in Indonesia:

The Indonesian system is broken down to 4 levels of schooling – Kindergarten, Elementary, Junior High, Senior High. The vast majority of kids in Bali, depending on their family’s status, might make it to Elementary school, some will go to Junior High, and very few will make it to Senior High.

The reason for this is that If you enroll at Elementary school you might pay, for example 1,200,000 ($120 US) rupiah to enroll – this covers your admin charges, building contribution, books, uniforms to get you started. Then you might on average be invoiced at a rate of 100,000 ($10 US) rupiah a month.  Many families find the initial enrolment fee – somehow! Anyway they can. But the ongoing monthly fees they can’t afford to pay.

For the most part the government school allows them to stay whether their fees are paid or not, up until it’s time to move to the next level of schooling. If their fees are not fully paid, they get no report from the school – no certificate which says they are eligible for the next school level. The only way to receive that certificate is to pay the outstanding fees. So if a family has had a child in school for 3 years, they haven’t kept up their monthly payments of 100,000 rupiah – they’re now looking at 3.5 million rupiah to finalise their debt, PLUS another 1.5 million rupiah to enroll in the next level of school.

Just to put this into context, the average monthly income for many of these families is around 1.5 million rupiah. We’ve met families of 4 living on 700,000 per month, and families of 4 living on less than 50,000 per month. A basic room to rent might cost 400,000 per month, food (healthy standards) would cost 10,000 per person per day. So you can see, there’s just no leeway for education. These parents desperately want their children to go to school. They know that the only way that their children will be able to make a better life for themselves is to get that education – but they need to survive.

Cate's project is to raise money to keep kids in school. The amounts of money are so low to us, but make all the difference to these kids and families: $200/year for elementary school, $300/year for junior high,  $360 for high school.   She's also opened an orphanage in Bali and taken in her first ten homeless children.  Really great.  There's a whole conservation angle to it, too, that I'm still learning about.  She's had an incredible life.

So anyway, for what it's worth, from now on when I'm going on retreat, I'm adding to my research list.  In addition to checking out where I can go see and touch animals (always #1 on the list), I'll be looking for local projects that offer a possibility to connect in to efforts to make the community a better place.  This doesn't have to be on the formal agenda for the retreat itself, although I do think that would be a genius (if I say so myself) enhancement to the usual itinerary.  It doesn't have to be anything earth-shaking, but I do need to do something.

In the meantime, I'm thinking about what we could call these retreats instead, what word would better describe what they're really about: not retreating at all, but instead exploring more deeply than our "regular" lives allow.  I'm thinking about it.  If you have suggestions, I'd love to hear them!

Still Life: Return

I'm sitting in my cluttered room, unpacking my messy suitcase and still messier jetlagged mind, thinking about our more than two weeks in Bali, savoring little memories and wondering how on earth I'm going to tell it all, in what order, how?  Oh my good intentions of posting regularly: all dashed by the spottiness of wifi availability and the very real busy-ness of being part of a 25-person group.

So I'm sitting here now, after, sipping ginger tea from my Tutmak cup, remembering the much more delicious ginger tea in Bali, but also too fuzzy-headed to drive to the store right now for fresh ginger to make it with... I'm resisting the urge to go to sleep and marvelling at my own absurdity: I honestly thought I would be able to arrive last night close to midnight and go to work today?  Absurd.

Instead I'm slowly putting things away, unwrapping and remembering.  In the flotsam I've carried back, a delightful note from the manager of our hotel in Pemuteran that includes this priceless excerpt:

To cheering your evening to the most beautiful and unforgettable moment we will perform you with Balinese legong dance from the community children of the village.

And actually, that just about says it all.  So much was done to cheer our days and evenings to the most beautiful and unforgettable moment, over and over again.   Stacks and stacks of beautiful and unforgettable moments, really -- thanks to scores of graceful and smiling and sweet people devoted to showing us a good time in their home.

Yes, of course, we stayed primarily in places designed for our comfort, designed to receive yoga groups and pull out all of the stops, so of course, we had a good time.  But it was more than that.  I've been other places on retreat, and this was distinctly different.  This was Balinese.  So many small kindnesses, so many gestures of consideration, all that emphasis on karma expressed in innumerable gentle, caring ways, even in the midst of a market transaction.  And sweet.  Like the presents we were each given at check-out, incongruously wrapped in Mickey Mouse and Winnie the Pooh paper, souvenirs of Munduk from the good people at Puri Lumbung Cottages.  And how enormous the smiles when people said, "You from America?  Obama! Indonesian!"  The warm welcome: that is an entirely new sensation.  I feel completely loved-up.

It's great to be back really, inside the home that Joe and I have made, to walk around in our rooms and see the evidence of our well-lived life.  At the same time, a little piece of me is pulled back, tugged back, reminded by carvings and batik, to an island where we were received like family for a few weeks.  So sweet to be back and dreaming of return.

the MOST fun I've ever had in my life

I wrote this two days ago, but accessing the interwebs has been challenging so this is going up late.  My intention was to post regular, but hey, it's a yoga retreat, so I'm being flexible and rolling with da punches!

* * * * *

We’ve been in Bali four whole days now, having an amazing time.  It seems impossible sometimes, like I should ask someone to pinch me, like yesterday morning when we were all dressed up and loaded onto a bus heading to Tirta Empul for a water purification ceremony.  I said then, and I still think it’s true, that “this is the most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life.” 

We had spent the morning so far having an early and  light breakfast (croissants, yogurt, muesli, Bali coffee) and being outfitted in Balinese dress suitable for our visit to Tirta.  Some people, the men in particular, required more assistance than others.  As he was creating an elaborate flounce on the front of Joe’s sarong, Iyan, one of our hosts, co-owner of OneWorld, explained that here in Bali, men are the roosters, hence the additional flair (and the several subsequent jokes about what a cock Joe is).  Watching people’s delight as their amateur attempt at wrapping the sarong was transformed by skillful hands made me laugh and jump around so much.

And of course that came after the 30 minutes worth of non-stop giggling in my own room, pretty much my first activity of the day, at our own efforts to suit up.

Off we went on our bus to Tirta Empul, according to the guidebook a natural spring discovered in 962, said to have healing properties, its temple one of Bali's most important.

Most people just come in, “lease” a cheap sarong and walk the grounds.  We made offerings, participated in a water purification ceremony, had prayers said over us by a priest, were blessed.  And then practiced yoga for 1 ½ hours in sight of the temple, a bit on display on our elevated stage, watched, photographed and filmed by busloads of tourists who arrived later, our own little island of peace and quiet.

Following one initial offering and some prayers, we stripped off our sarongs and white shirts, leaving only the white sheet we were wrapped in, over bathing suit or underwear.  My bathing suit was still wet from the day before, so I opted for underwear, something I immediately regretted upon entering the water and realizing the sheet would be basically up over my head at each ritual spout, not to mention I’d be showing my entire ass through the back of the transparent wet white sheet on the way back to the locker room. Oh well, another day, another opportunity for humility.

From the dunking, we put on yoga clothes and re-wrapped sarongs for prayers in the temple proper, after which we were splashed with holy water and had grains of rice (for abundance) pressed onto our foreheads.

Obviously, I couldn’t understand a word the priest said or sang, but enjoyed my time sitting on the ground, as the rain came down and soaked us, listening and smelling and observing.  It’s not everyday I find myself in a pink sarong, in a pouring rain, still. 

And then came yoga.  And then delicious snacks brought by the staff of Kumara Sakti, and then a ride to Gunung Kawi, another amazing place, and then back to Ubud. 

As I sit here thinking about it all, I realize that I don’t want this to just be some endless “and then” recitation.  I think I’ll leave the blow-by-blow for the annotated Flickr stream, for those who really want to see what it was like, step by step and day by day.  Here what I mostly want to say is that I really, truly am having the time of my life, so enjoying being here with Joe, with Laura, with Abe and Pamela and Gary and Barbara and Hasya and Erin and the rest, giving ourselves up fully to the bhakti (love) and bliss which are the themes of this retreat.

Every single day I’m laughing a lot, practicing and loving this place so hard.  Vacation rules, but yoga-vacation is even better.

Tiga, Dua, Satu: Bali, here we come!

Bali flowers, photo credit: Abe Christensen

Opened my eyes this morning and thought, Finally, finally, finally, it's the day we're leaving to Bali - youpie!  We were up late last night, didn't start packing until after 8pm.  Trixie and Josh stopped by and made the process even more fun than usual, laughing at our faux-bickers about whether we were going to share suitcase space (no chance) and how to fit our enormous fins + yoga mats in our bags.   [I'm using the larger suitcase, into which I can fit both mats and both sets of dive-gear, then my belongings.  But this won't work on the way back, since I plan on heartily supporting the Balinese economy!]

I'm pretty delighted that I did in fact manage not to stress myself into the red zone yesterday, despite having been given many opportunities to do so.  Work was a complete and utter shit-show -- I am feeling grateful to have been reminded in such a sharp way of all of the reasons why I need a change. Just when I thought it couldn't get more ridiculous, it did!  But now it's over and done with for two weeks and 4 days.  Yay on that.

Everything about vacation is wonderful.  I am particularly delighted to be traveling with Joe, remembering how much fun we had when we drove to Tahoe together in March.  After all of the drama of 2009, I think we'd forgotten how sweet it is just to be together for long stretches of time, talking, planning, dreaming and mostly laughing.  A 14-hour flight (SFO-Hong Kong), followed by a 5-hour flight (HK-Denpasar, Bali), will be great, the two of us together in the plane, Joe with his compression socks on (oh yes) and me with my stacks of books, my notebook, my Learn Indonesian podcasts.

A note on the compression socks: the last two times Joe flew (Oaxaca, France), his ankles were comically enormous for the two days following.  We're hoping that the addition of the uber-attractive compression socks will make a difference.  I regret that he has decided to wear long pants, since the sight of those tall black socks with shorts would have been a delight.  But there is to be no mirth from this direction.

So up and at 'em!  I'm heading out to walk Jasper in the woods, make some last phone calls (credit card company, wireless company), find my dive card, show The Kid one last time what I need him to hand-water in the yard, and then boom, before I know it, we'll be in the car heading to the airport and the big adventure that awaits.

Sampai jumpa lagi!

Checking my drawers

If it weren't for traveling, I don't think I'd ever buy new underwear.

Seriously.  When I'm home, just living, not going anywhere, I make do, as my supply of  "good" underwear dwindles with the passage of time.  Since I have access to a washing machine in my house, no worries if I'm down to three, maybe five, days' worth of pairs I like.  I'll rotate in the pairs I don't like, those with a slightly weird fit or funky fabric, or go entirely without.  Scandalous, right?

So thank goodness for prolonged international travel, which forces me to take stock, count it up, and generally buy more.  Leaving home for two weeks really does make a person (well, at least me, anyway) get off her ass and invest in the necessaries.

Which leads to a funny situation where I can look at particular Felina bra and know that it dates to October 2006, purchased at Nordstrom the night before our departure for Macchu Picchu.  Or that particular set of matching underpants: just before Oaxaca 2008.  Clearly, I can make some things last.  But not forever.

If I learned anything from years of traveling on business, it's that you really can't pack too much underwear.  Like the time I was on the East Coast for 24 hours -- to secure a visa for Serbia, a chore involving a hired-car to Queens to the one guy who could translate my travel documents which I then had to take, by train, to the embassy in DC -- and heard a disturbing pop as I was about to clasp the bra behind my back while getting dressed in the morning after three hours sleep.  Total lingerie failure.  Thank goodness I had a spare, since there was no time for bra-replacement built in to my packed schedule (especially since my bra size is as impossible to find in regular stores as my shoe size, damn it).  Multiples: always a good idea.

So, since we leave tomorrow for Bali, I've done it again: added new pieces to my collection, such as it is.  Not a lot, just two Wacoal bras, two Hanky Panky thongs, which forever -- or at least the next couple of years, if past trends are any indication of future performance -- will represent July 2010.

With the next big trip after this one already looming on the horizon (India with Laura, November 2011), it won't be long before I'm shopping for unmentionables again.  Until then, I'm making do with what I've got, armchair traveling every time I open that drawer.

Trip Prep: Stage 2

The problem with me is that I can't pack unless the house is clean.  [That's obviously not the *only* problem with me, but the one of which I'm most aware at the moment, thank you.]

If Stage 1 is Gathering, Stage 2 of trip prep is definitely Order. These two stages are a little in conflict with each other, back and forth like windshield wipers.  Can't Gather unless there's Order, and resist Order because Gather is so much more fun.  But right now, Order is what's happening.

Small aside that indicates how hard it is to stay focused: Wow, we are three sleeps away now from seeing this with our own eyes: Pura Saraswati in Ubud.

If Stage 2 were only about mopping and vacuuming and dusting, that would be one thing. Order extends well beyond housekeeping, to ensuring that there's Order to the bills, both personal and financial.  There's a lot of work to do to catch the business up, to ensure that bills are paid in advance, that payroll is called in ahead for while we're gone, that there's work for the staff to do, that we know what Joe will be doing when he gets back.  We have to lay out that trail of crumbs now, because we're very likely (if all goes well) to completely forget what the hell we do for a living after two weeks of vacation in paradise.

I've been doing the same work at my job, and so the next three days will consist of finishing what I can and handing off everything else, with delight, not carrying it in my head and certainly NOT staying past 4pm on Wednesday. I'm made myself a vow that this time, this trip, I will not stay up all night the night before in a panicked frenzy of combo bill paying, list making, packing and worrying.  Nope, not this time.  Done.  [We'll see.]

Over the next three days, instead, we're slowly ticking down the long list, doing the yard work, letting the neighbors know to come harvest vegetables from the garden, picking and giving away whatever we can, ensuring that The Kid knows the minimal chores that need to happen while we're gone and he's in charge.

I like this slower process right now, seems better (duh) to be relaxed about entering a state of relaxation which is truly what vacation really is.  It's always a challenge to sustain the vacation feeling after we get back, so this time, I'm really trying to start the vacation feeling early, have it already even before the bags are checked and we're through security.

Hmm, maybe I'm really learning something from all this yoga after all!  :)