My shoulders soften. I’ve never seen so many shades and textures in the rice fields before and as far as the eye can see, there are no tourists here. The world feels older and in no rush. The air smells of smoke. The sunset is neon orange behind the palms. Balinese children laugh in the streets and the young men smile at me as they zoom by on their scooters.
I’ve escaped the city chaos of Uluwatu. My villa is under construction and I will not torment my parts by staying put amongst the banging, sanding and dust. My throat was scratchy. My nose was running. I opened the AirBnb app, threw a bunch of clothes and camera in my backpack and texted my driver. A part of me wanted to escape to the beach but another part felt called to explore deeper into the mountain jungle. It was an off brand decision but the mystery summoned me.
My new yoga outfit, so chic in the city, is skimpy for these parts. I grab the hem of my top and pull it down to cover the little bit of skin exposed on my belly. A part of me gets sick of men’s eyes not knowing where to look when I smile into their eyes. A part of me didn’t pack my oversized t-shirt which covers me fully on these walks through rural Bali where mid-drift is not a thing. Why not? I stared at it in the laundry pile and then just left it there. Oh well. My mind wanders elsewhere.
A part of me feels the familiar loneliness creeping in. Haven’t felt it in a while since I’ve been living in a house of witches. My days have been easily filled with creative projects, laughter and stories. And so, here I find myself again on a solo adventure with all my parts, raw and exposed. Hello, my friends. Let’s explore our distractions and then let’s settle down into what is.
I walk along the side of the road, wearing noise canceling headphones, sending voice messages to my best friends in America. When they wake up in the morning they’ll hear my voice and the sound of the jungle bugs, the water rushing in the gutter, the dog barking at me as he ran out of the rice paddies with mud up to his knees like brown boots. In a way that’s hard to put into words, sound makes the world come to life more vividly than photos. You can close your eyes and pretend you’re there, let your mind create images. Photos don’t usually evoke the imagination into sound…at least not in my experience.
Every time I see a child, a photographer part of me wishes I had my big Canon 5d Mark IV camera and permission to get up close to capture their joy. I snap these sloppy yet charming photos on my phone and send them to one of my best friends who is a mama. A liberated mom part of me wants to connect with her and give her a glimpse of the children of the world. This part wants her parts to feel inspired and safe to bring her own babies out of their comfort zone and see the other cultures. My parts feel happy when I see the smiles of the Balinese kids giggling as they drive scooters down the roads. Every time I see a 10 year old on a motorbike on the main road, a part of me is bubbling with freedom and another part feels fear of danger. How refreshing! How terrifying! My heart is warm when I watch the little girls linking arms and strolling down the streets at sunset. They’re shy when they wave hello to me but they clearly want to stare. I often catch people laughing here, right when they let loose and act silly and don’t think anyone is watching. When they see me watching them, I’m smiling but they burst into giggles, cover their faces and turn away into their circles of friends. A part of me wishes they weren’t embarrassed but another part of me thinks it’s kind of cute.
So this evening walk is lovely but what am I going to do with all my parts in this tiny farm village? There is not much to do apart from just be…and finally write a blog post. Time alone creates space. I realize how much has been pushed aside and piled up. I’ve been in this jungle village for three hours and suddenly my parts have all this energy to connect with people who are so far away.
It’s the loneliness. A part of me wishes we were at the ocean. It’s more comfortable for her there than it is inland and deep inside a jungle hug. A part of me starts taking photos and messaging friends, just to get a sense that she’s sharing this experience with someone. A part of me craves food and wants to chew the loneliness away. That will only help for a few minutes though. Then I’ll feel bloated and another part of me will feel upset because we love feeling light and healthy in my digestive system. Plus, my fitness parts have been crafting a six pack. We’re not going to let that hard work go to waste. Our fitness goals are totally worth sticking to the salads and fruit. My parts all love our healthy diet. That’s why I know any cravings are just my protective part, a firefighter who turns to food to douse the feeling of loneliness. That part has tried to take cared of me my whole life. I’ve snacked and nibbled on salty chewy crunchy sweet things when the parts of me who feel lonely, bored, or socially awkward start to surface…but especially loneliness. The food feels nice but then my stomach doesn’t. So I’m sitting in the jungle cafe now, staring at an empty plate that used to hold a rather limp garden salad on it. I devoured it but I pretended I never saw the two slices of processed white bread smeared with garlic butter. They sat untouched. Back to the kitchen with ye! The cooks put canned pickles on the salad so the whole thing tasted like brine. Did I mention I devoured it? It wasn’t delicious but it was food and I was hungry out here in the jungle alone. In moments like this, even a briny salad is my best friend. Side note…I normally eat at bougie organic vegan restaurants so I’m spoiled when it comes to meals. I forget the food quality drops once I venture out of hippie land. My parts are shocked when the processed and preserved food appears on the plate. always grateful for food but always adjusting to different standards as I travel.
I finish writing this post with a plastic straw in my mouth. Damn the plastic. I’m used to sipping through bamboo straws. Ha! Listen to these parts who have been livin’ in luxury lately! I have a jug of watermelon juice (tidak gula… make sure you tell them no sugar or else they’ll pour it in your fresh juice). Chill jazz music plays on the speakers up high in the bamboo roof. I hear water fountains. An airplane high above reminds me of the outside world. This island is a vacation hotspot. I hear the ladies talking in the kitchen…but I can’t make out their words. The couple nearby is American. They’re playing chess and drinking beer. We’re all sitting on low couches made of pallets. There’s a little Buddha statue sitting on the shelf to my left. Behind him is the dark green jungle. This cafe is walled in by banana leaves and palms twice the size of my body. I wonder how many mosquitoes are sucking my blood right now without me realizing.
The waiter just took my plate away. I can’t slurp anymore watermelon juice up. It’s all gone. Just pink ice cubes now. Suddenly I feel sleepy. It’s been difficult to write blog posts this season. All my energy for words has been directed to journaling, taking notes in my IFS and meditation trainings, editing my novel and helping my husband craft the script for his video game tutorial. It feels fun to dabble in this format again and I wonder how much energy I just used up doing this. That’s something I’m always aware of nowadays. I monitor the energy expenditure of each activity I do, especially creative acts. Ok, enough for now.
Love & Rainbows,
Cha in the Wilde jungle of Bali
