September 25, 2022 — Tegallalang Rice Terraces, Bali
Roosters crowing across the curving rice terraces, little farms tucked away, joined, marshy, crawling with bugs. Small waterfalls, dirt paths and staircases build into the hill, giant palm leaves and patches of hot sun that will burn me up if I don’t keep moving.
I’m in the Tegallalang Rice Terraces and a part of me is judgmental. She sees the world through artists eyes and doesn’t understand why other people see it differently or behave differently than I do. Why do people rush by and skip over the beautiful details that make it all worth living? Do they not even know what they miss? Has no one ever showed them how to slow down and look more closely? Stopping the stampede to smell the roses and watch the black butterflies dance across the green rice.
I walk through the rice terraces and learn…. Life never stops for me. It doesn’t wait for me to catch up and explain what just happened. I know I don’t have time to stop living so my storytelling must keep up with the living. This is why I love livestreams and posting immediately. Here you go, real life right now! I’m moving on! I don’t want to miss this moment because I was caught up talking about the previous one.
I learned that some people spend all day sitting in a rice terrace, eating bags of chips, offering fresh coconuts and hoping tourists will give them money if they pose for a photo. I sat with one of these women, sipping a coconut she cut open for me. I painted the terraces in watercolor and she said one word to me, “good”, pointing at my painting. We smiled at each other a lot in silence, tourists walking by us every few minutes, all of them refusing her coconuts. Time was slow with her. I realized she would be here all day and again tomorrow. One hour was enough for me and I was ready to move on. I’m learning from the Balinese people that one way to live life is to sit still, relaxed, in one spot for a long long time. She must know that terrace well and the tourists must be like migrating animals moving through her land. It’s ok to sit and be right here. There is no where is to go. In fact, right here is the place to go, look at all these people traveling around the world to walk right here! So sit and be in it, slower and slower.
I learned that an old bent over man with two feet crippled, toes curled, ankles turned outwards, walking on the outer edge of one foot, can still swing a machete and work his rice crop in the hot sun. He hobbled up and down the stone steps with a open Smeagol-like face. I learned that even with an old crooked body we can still show up and do the work of our life. With the older body we move slower and yet, we still move, we still work. Age has nothing to do with work.
I learned that the rice terraces have three repeating colors; light green, darker green and brown green. They curve with each other, paralleling each other around the hill. The dark green moves upwards, the rice plants growing. The light green is the short grass, cut short by feet and machete. The brown green is the dirt slop between each level of rice. There are dirty-cream square stone steps and simple dirt paths for the humans walking up and down and across. And there are palm trees shooting up sporadically, two or three in each field. At the bottom of the valley, thick jungle plants cover the flowing water. To cross to the other side you must walk on a rickety thatched bridge or a bridge of silver pipes tied together. When I crossed I smiled as a tiny shot of adrenaline released in my brain. I learned that little yellow flowers grow, large ants crawl on logs, white butterflies are fickle about their landing spots never staying longer than a few seconds, and pretty plants with long magenta leaves are pretty freckles on the green scenery.
The impression of Uluwatu is still on me. Close to the ocean, close to life. Perhaps I’ll go back there for awhile. More sunsets on the beach. All this jungle time is interesting and it’s not really what I want. All in good time.
Wherever there is wind, give it to me. Again the wind find me, this time in the rice terraces, cooling and soft. I could be with her all day. I never want the breeze to stop. I miss her terribly when she’s absent.
Love & Rainbows, Cha Wilde
