Kindness of Strangers

Friday, October 10, 2008

The greatest benefit of our time in Bali has been starting the process of relearning what makes me feel happy. There is no agenda, and my days here are truly simple, guided by one question: what do you feel like doing today? I don’t think I realized until I arrived in Ubud how rote my life had become, how much I was doing out of obligation or mimicry, how out of touch with myself I had become. I feel like an infant who is relearning her way in the world. This trip has been a spiritual bootcamp. a slow breaking-down process that has finally bottomed out. Without any of the cues of my everyday life, I am forced to listen to myself more than I ever have before. I am beginning to see that the struggle of the first three months of this trip has been that daily process of looking to myself only to realize that I don’t know who I am: how can you rely on yourself when you don’t recognize yourself? The result was an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and pessimism. Bali has allowed me to begin filling myself up again, to remember who I am and what I enjoy about this world. I am slowly regaining confidence in myself and my choices through making simple, daily decisions based on what feels right and good.

I quickly decided that I wanted to spend my time in Ubud reconnecting with myself, and the great thing about this town is that it offers so many modalities for tapping into one’s self. Every storefront you pass advertises Balinese detox, herbal remedies, crystals, astrology, meditation, massage, yoga, baths - the possibilities are endless. Most of these treatments, which would cost an arm and a leg in the States, are so inexpensive in Bali that you’re not out much from trying something once. So Maikael and I have been running all over town trying different treatments, seeing what happens and what works best for us.

I wasn’t sure where to begin this so-called spiritual journey that I have decided to embark upon, so I started with massage, something I knew I enjoyed. Over the last week we’ve been poked, prodded, pummeled, washed, dried, fluffed, and perfumed before being sent back into the world. We’ve had a massage nearly every day while we’ve been in Ubud, ranging from $4 to $16. At Nur Salon we received treatments in small bungalows set amongst the greenery of a lovely family compound. As the cares of the world melted away I listened to, instead of a CD, nature’s soundtrack: chickens clucking outside, birds twittering on the branches above, the roll of thunder in the distance. I reclined in the stone tub, filled with tropical flowers and heavenly scents, and looked skyward through the fringe of the thatched roof and gazed on gathering storm clouds and ragged tree limbs. I was filled to the brim with pure contentment.

Maikael has always been interested in meditation, and had his first opportunity to join a class at the Yoga Barn. Of everything he tried this week, he felt this was the most effective treatment for him, and wants to continue with it when we return home. I have always been a devotee of massage, but am beginning to recognize the need for something more in my everyday life. I have visited astrologers and mediums three times in my life, and all three have stressed the importance of adopting a spiritual practice. (Two have specifically mentioned Kundalini yoga, something I would like to investigate when we return to Albuquerque.)

Shortly after we arrived, Ishara suggested a massage at Bodyworks and a session at Light Spirit with Tibetan bowls, both of which were guaranteed to get my blocked energies flowing. We were skeptical - particularly about the latter - but willing to give it a try. The massage at Bodyworks focused on triggering points down the body’s energy meridians, and when I emerged an hour later, I felt simultaneously relaxed and energized.

The next day we dipped into Light Spirit as dark descended over the slick streets, licked clean after the late afternoon downpour. Two young Balinese men lounged on great cushions, springing to action when the bells tinkled as we passed through the front door. We were placed on large divans set before a gigantic gong. A series of hand-hammered bronze bowls, looking as old as the world itself, were placed on various point on our body: hands, feet, stomach, back. A soft felt mallet struck the bowls, sending vibrations throughout our body as sound reverberated all around us. At first I didn’t feel much of anything, but I soon noticed a familiar, dull ache in my forearms. When have I felt this sensation before? I asked myself. When I used to do acupuncture, I realized, and I suddenly recognized this feeling as energy flowing through my body. As I lay quietly at the end of the session I felt a gentle tap on my forehead, and assuming it was the therapist, I flicked open my eyes. No one was there.

The next day I was sitting at Kafe, enjoying a particularly good panini, when my stomach started to toss, turn, and rumble. “Not Bali Belly,” I thought to myself. But then I remembered what Ishara had told me a few days earlier about the Tibetan bowls, that they release energy quickly and in sometimes unexpected ways. A friend of hers had been sick as a dog for three days after a session, and I couldn’t help by wonder if the same thing was happening to me. After one sick night I’m still not sure whether to blame it on suspect lettuce or those bowls, but I emerged from the whole ordeal feeling renewed and a little more in awe of the power of Bali.