indonesia

Savasana

Everything is numbered.
That crept up and now every meeting, every dance, every meal may be our last. It’s happy too, only good things coming, but I’ve settled in deep to this place.

I like going to sleep to crickets and barking geckos, waking up to sweeping and to loud, unstoppable roosters. I like when I have to miss yoga because a downpour refuses to let up and the thunder interrupts the conversation at all the right times, when you can’t order half of the juices on the menu because it’s not the season and you can’t get durian because the man who sells it on the side of the road every day didn’t show up today. When the cows and the dogs play outside the window of our kitchen, blenders roaring over Michael Jackson, love frequencies and improv poetry slams.

I like stillness and motion and where they meet. Being in a group and alone and where they meet.

I’m as happy as I’ve ever been when I get to dance in the night and yoga in the morning, eat nourishing food over stimulating conversation, and hydrate with coconuts from up the street, up the sky. Where am I? What life is this? Whose ?

Sundays, everyone comes together. We dance in the daylight, like crazy people, wild & unstoppable. We eat together and go to a drum circle for music, dancing, hoola hoping, acro yoga, bali soccer, and our sacred ice cream. Before we make our separate ways to dragonfly village. A sanctuary in the rice paddies. Cared for by the sauna, the campfire, the pool, hot & delicious tea, and our favorite DJ.

We leave at nine, to sleep to sleep to sleep.

This is a special place.

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Days off

The weekend has great meaning when it belongs to you, and the week, to someone else.

Today, I feel my best again.
Slept in and wrote. Our neighbor and friend nick played an incredible show last night. A beautiful mix of Indonesian and English, enlightened spirit and inspiring energy. I listened from the floor and soon danced all over the room with everyone visiting. So much awe and wonder in his eyes.

Saturday morning, we got silly directions to a secret beach.

“It’s a right at the petrol station then a left about 200 meters after the road you would take to Alex’s house, then you will see a big baby buddha and turn left, over a bridge, through a traffic light, then turn left and you’re there. Black sand and strong waves.”

Easy

Luckily, people are friendly and this place is beautiful.

We stopped for directions and soup in the sun on the road side before carrying on.

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Black sand beach to pull from us and resurface.
Healing wounds and offerings scattered across the sand.

Hydration at the local shop brings new friends, two balinese women and two men. So friendly and speaking love words in English, “I love you my darling” ” you like me” and on.

A man, with the traditional head wrap on drinks a huge bintang and pulls out a tiny bottle of green liquid for scratches.

Trust is a strange thing.

We bike for nearly an hour back, in and out and in and out stopping for juices and peace. Just for a second. When did we have friends and life in ubud? And what happens after we say goodbye?

A kirtan concert brings caravans from ubud out to five elements. A cross legged crowd listens, sings with Kevin James and soon, dancing persists in the back with the stomping, romping little boys and the giggling staff on cell phones. The energy is from the group as a whole, and I take space from it, backing out… Just enough.

Sneaking home together, thunder comes from afar and the stars shine above clear skies. Coconuts and dinner, appetizing on chocolate.

Its beautiful here. We are beautiful here.

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