June 2023
I went back to Bali (I know, lucky me for twice in 2023… so far). This time my wife Aviva came with me. She ended up studying gamelan with the same teacher as our daughter. Aviva had dreamt of learning the gamelan since before we met. Great to help make her dream come true… as she made mine come true when she said “yes” to my proposal. We celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary!
While my wife walked a block from our hotel to the Royal Palace in Ubud to study gamelan with our friend Raka, I worked for a while then wandered to find what adventures awaited.
“Subak Juwuk Manis (Magical Rice Field of Ubud)” read the sign. A narrow passageway beckoned. I wondered, Is the rice magic, the field magic, or is Ubud magic?
I took the trail to find out. The path hugged a creek far below. That trail was precariously perched along the bank that had seen its share of landslides.
Ubud is the cultural capital of Bali, Indonesia. Although signs of wear, tear and tension were often just below the surface of this beautiful land, there was a certain magic to this paradise. As I went back to Bali a second time, I became more aware of the struggles of the local people.
Through our daughter Ilana’s World Percussion professor at Oberlin, she got connected with Raka, who is a master gamelan teacher and the hereditary Prince of Bali. He invited us to Ubud, the heritage village of art and culture set in the middle of the island, an hour or more drive from the famous beaches of Bali. Every morning, Ilana (then Aviva on this second trip) would walk a block to the Royal Palace and sit on Raka’s porch to take lessons on gamelan and learn to play the small traditional string instrument called the rebab. In the afternoons, Raka would take us sightseeing or sit with us for a meal. In the evenings, we watched performances of Raka’s gamelan along with dancers and storytellers.
Raka had inherited property in the Royal Palace where he and his family lived. But he was not a rich man. He was happy to play his music and breed his prized songbirds. He tellingly said, “Those who understand the culture of Bali respect me. But those who are just here to make money don’t.”
Bali is a place that a lot of investors have made money. More buildings. More people. More cars. More money. Raka was skeptical of this so-called development. He saw it happening at a fast rate, creating jobs to service more tourists, but at the expense of the culture of Bali. People there to make a quick buck do not care about the unique eco-system, long history, religion, and the arts and music. Landslides were only the beginnings of natural and cultural erosion.
About a half kilometer along the trail to that Magical Rice Field of Ubud, I found my answer. An abandoned dwelling, repurposed as an art space, had a wall with a magnificently painted woman’s face. Her third eye radiated light. Underneath her was the answer: VIEWER CREATES THE MAGIC.
I wondered about who left this message behind for me to ponder on that first visit. On my second visit, I met the artist. He called himself Santa de Bali. A burnt-out German who had spent over a decade in Bali. He lamented the changes he was seeing. He also seemed to be working out his own suffering by collecting rocks from the creek bed and pounding them, carving them, sanding them into statues, and painting whatever came to him. I asked about his muse. He answered as an artist might, “I don’t know. They just come to me. I must listen.”
Santa de Bali pointed to goosebumps on his tattooed arms when I told him, “Your art is making the world a better place.” He responded, “No one else tells me that. They pass by with their head in their phones, not even noticing. I am still working on the anger I learned from my parents in Bavaria. But I thank you for saying that.”
Maybe that is one lesson in this continuing story of mine. It is listening to whatever moves in me then trying to share a bit of peace in myself and others. I pray the Metta Sutta, which I first learned in 1992 at a Buddhist meditation center in Sri Lanka, as I brush my teeth. And the line that I always repeat is, “May all beings be at ease.”
What I create will determine if ease and magic or anger and suffering manifests. No doubt all at times will surface. I hope the magic, mystery and blessings prevail. Santa’s gift for me was a reminder that it is I, as viewer and liver of this one precious life, who will determine that.