Gratitude in Bali

She was kneeling on the steps facing the store front. I was looking at her hands lifting the smoke of the incense from her offering basket - each movement a prayer. I can hardly breathe, because my prayer is hers. Like joining someone who is singing a song, together we were saying ‘Thank you.’

This is what Bali does. It awes you and offers you a time of reflection.

I wake up with the sun and lay in bed listening to nature’s full orchestra from the best seat in the house. At the same time ~ only half awake, I’m asking myself deep questions. What is this pilgrimage I’m on? You feel that it’s important, a turning point, a new awakening. Again and again, I want to check out why my questions will not let me go.  Maybe like you, I’ve discovered that inside, there is no path. Just like the thunder and the rain around here, we are not in control and this journey we’re on is a just as much a mystery.

 Then the orchestra shouts an announcement from a loud important bird, reminding me to notice the light of this day.

 I’m surprised to see how quiet I’ve become, even poetic. My home is thousands of miles away, and yet I feel at home here. I can walk the rice fields and meet the duck parade in full force and hey, if I get lost it’s not for long. I walk to the grocery store and the laundry, and on my way I’m greeted with big smiles,  hugs of recognition and meditating  lizards. Paths are everywhere and with every turn of my head are exotic discoveries. Art is offered on a platter like an International buffet of odd, exquisite and strange.  My eyes are tempted to savor it all, and in the evening, if I smear the color of sunset on my face, I am more beautiful.

 The tourist brochures forget to talk about the fat goldfish, the roaming families of chicks, the luscious local honey kissed by busy bees or the gamelan sounds rocked by children after school. My skinny yellow kitty is sporting her Kermit the frog reward, while Kermits relatives are beginning a karaoke party.

 I understand the gratefulness of the Balinese when I see the signs offering “hot and cold water”. Sure, it’s hot sometimes, but you can find the shade. I’m reminded that many people are freezing and can’t afford the heat. In Bali, the sun lets me  offer the holy water of my sweat… to bless the real sweat of those that do hard labor. Am I fortunate!

Perhaps as we open our heart, our gratitude evolves.

Sterling Nelson