thePlace

            Sitting under the glaringly lit Space (the 40W bulbs have been replaced by florescence tubes), I stare into the darkness.   A few distant lights glitter above the outlying tree tops horizon at the end of the paddy field.  The veiled orange moon hazily rose above the murky clouds.  The exultant chorus of the frogs deafeningly rises from all directions celebrating the beginning of the monsoon.   Not too far away, the ceremonial wail-like singing from the temple drones in a faintly tarnished languor; in a forcible minor note, occasionally pierces through the harmonious clucking of the frogs. 

           

            Tired of digging into the mind-numbingly boring ‘Learn how to Design Website’ book, the mind effortlessly turns to the blackness of the background beyond. A slight breeze brushes my face, the silhouette of banana leafs swinging stylishly.   It’s a cool night after the late afternoon rain.  The air is intermixed with the smell of burning incense offered to the spirits and fresh out greens. Breathing in the bucolic bliss, I have no desire to seek another climate, another landscape. 

            It feels good now that I am no longer immured in the stale air and spotless façade of a locked dwelling in the cold west.   It’s good to be back to the Space - back to the open warm air, back to the uninterrupted foliage, back to the slow rustic idyll – along with the cold shower, the insect bites, trash that flows through the paddy flooding gutter below. Back to the aloneness and simplicity – a state I cherish more now after almost 4 months of excessiveness and somewhat draining living situation.

            Wonder when I can move into the Place.

            Visited the Place this morning.  Although Made has promised that the house will be ready by the time of my return, the house is far from being ready.  In dismay I instructed the kitchen tiles and sink to be replaced, wall to be knocked down and rebuilt, paint to be mixed and repainted, etc.  I have to mix the paints Made uses and taught the workers to make a palette of softer tone.  The separate outdoor entrance to the room upstairs is unacceptable – how Made decided that it is appropriate is beyond me; even in light of some impossible rocks discovered underground.  Short of dynamiting the rock, I ripped my brain to come up with a practicable solution to include the stairs and the room as part of the house.  I certainly don’t want the House to look like a duplex.

            The pool is about 2 months behind – still a huge mass around the half-done rectangular dark opening.

            I’m quite happy with the garden, it’s sufficiently green and earthworms are found!

            Today the workers are off because of the usual inveterate participation of ceremonies.  In the land of spirits and gods, religious and family ceremonies take precedent from everything else in life.

            Soon the work will be trammeled by the daily rain too. 

           

            This is all part of the hard truth of living in Bali. My only consolation –  the situation is the training ground for fortitude.  No point blustering protests to Made, perhaps blandishment might works better.

            In Taipei airport after 13 hours of the midnight flight. Hardly slept and ate.  A little dazed and definitely inflamed eyes.  

            This is the longest time I spent in SF since I intermittently moved away in 1999.  For some reasons I feel I’m not the same person as the one who left Bali in July.  Now that I have given up on a professional career and have taken up a path, the journey, ascribable only on the unexpected turns of chance or karma are revealing new and exciting phenomenon. It has been an intense 4 months – although far from enough I have learned so much.  From gardening, Buddhist teachings, yoga asanas and meditation to meeting some very interesting people while in Italy for 2 weeks.  I took on different projects because of the feeling, perhaps inchoate, that it may in some way contribute to the deeper understanding of the larger scale project of spiritual and physical work I have chosen. 

            Most connections are cursory and will end up, if not already none recallable.   There are a few I cherish and hope the connections will be lasting ones.  As usual, I found myself running out of time even though I desire for a more profound significance – the problem of an unsettled life.

            More than ever, the desire to learn and grow is burning so strongly that it aches my heart. Although it’s an exciting time, I feel more alone. There is a lingering sadness that seems impermeable to outside influence.  Perhaps sadness isn’t the right word, it’s not an overwhelming or a bad feeling – just whole bunch of tenderness towards myself and the world.  Maybe it’s because I feel my limitedness, there’s so much to learn, to grow, to do, to feel….I wish to reach up to heaven, kiss the earth and touch other lives.

 

            I will be going back to a different life. A life I have somewhat familiarized myself in for less than 3 months before leaving for SF.  Now it’s the time to deepen the experience, to finish the project.

            While away I have tried my best to keep in contact with Made through email and sms. Except for a couple of glitches, things seem to be going ok with the Place.  The ownership certificate seems to have been sucked up by the Indonesian administration black hole. The spring water from the hill has to be protected and filtered – the water pipes have to be repaired almost every other day. The spring water analysis is good but shows some unwanted bacteria.  Although I have accepted Made’s proposal for the cost, the seller, Pak Totok, who has agreed in the purchase contract to pay for half of the build up cost, seems to ignore Made’s plea to meet.

            I haven’t expected a smooth sailing expedition.  Things have to be deal with as they come….

            Still I’m not overly excited with the prospect of the cold shower that awaits me; it’ll take me quite awhile to get used to the numbingly shocking first dipper.

If you’re going to San Francisco

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

If you’re going to San Francisco

You’re gonna meet some gentle people there

For those who come to San Francisco

Summertime will be a love-in there

In the streets of San Francisco

Gentle people with flowers in their hair

All across the nation,

such a strange vibration

….

            Summertime in San Francisco; maybe there’s love-in here, but unlike the Balinese whose heads are ubiquitously adorned by flowers blessed by the gods and spirits, no one wears flowers here, not nowadays.  Only plastic ones wore by the antiquateds would surface on the back alleys frequented by the homeless.  Maybe not as gentle as the Balinese, the San Franciscans are warm compare to most city dwellers.  Yes they are in motion; such a strange ghost-like kind of vibration in grey white San Francisco summer fog….

            Outside, the fog is so thick & wind driven, I can hear it dancing.  Like a huge white impenetrable blanket of waves, from west to east, it engulfs the whole city.  It already began to mute the streetlights outside.  A fog so ethereal, it swirls like the breath of the ghosts, dancing in such beauty and power, it can only brings summer purity.  Summer nights in SF, are inseparable from the North Pacific cold wind and the dense fog.  Almost daily, I witness its marauding expedition, rolling; its fingers wrap the city in its entirety.  One’s field of vision closes, blurry, fuzzy and opaque – it’s especially true for those of us that live in the foggy part (nearer to the Pacific Ocean) of the city who have to live in the fog for days.

            While the rest of the country bake in 100 degree dry or humid summer heat, with its fog and wind that roll in almost every evening, San Francisco is known for its cold dank summer.  The average temperature in January is 51.1° F (10 Celsius) and in July, 59.1° F (14 Celsius) – I looked it up in the almanac.

            In San Francisco, a sun-drenched day is a happy-day. Because it is quite rare, in a hot summer day (say 75-90 degree) the vibrations are markedly stronger.  Despite of the cool wind, people are basking in the rare summer sun - in the steep streets and outside of narrow houses, by the beach, in the parks, in hidden gardens, on curbs.  The yuppies, the hippies, the homeless, the financiers, the computer nerds, the artists, the adopted animal – everyone is enlivened by the sun. 

            In a rare hot summer day, no one seems to work in San Francisco, and if they do – very unwillingly.  A local journalist once wrote, “if I do go to heaven, I’m going to do what every San Franciscan does.  I’ll look around and say, ‘It ain’t bad, but it ain’t San Francisco.’”  It sounds like a puffed up glorified statement – and it is.  SF is neither Rome nor Paris, and although one might not leave his or her heart here, it is quite unique and undoubtedly the best city in the US.            

             A small city by comparison, only about 777,000 people in a peninsular of 47 sq mile (122 sq km).  It is framed by the Pacific Ocean on the west and the San Francisco Bay to the north and the east. Connected by glorious bridges, the walkable undulated city offers gorgeous glimpses of the ocean and the bay with salt-sprayed wind in any hilly streets.  It is famous for its cable cars, rollercoaster streets, the Alcatraz, the golden gate bridge, the romantic summer fog.... SF is chic, has an offbeat innovation and a self-effacing quality so transparently missing from brassy NY and plastic LA.  It almost has a village feel to it every time I return from mega-crowded, fast-pace Asian cities.

               It is a liberal, energetic and diversified city – has a population of about 50% white, 30% Asian, 14% Hispanics and a mean age of 36.5 years old.   And with the wild Pacific Ocean at its side and the mountains a couple of hours away, SF is one of my favorite cities.  The tourists feel the same – more than 16 million yearly.  The homeless feel the same too.  There are more and more of them in the streets now.

            Although a tad lesser then the rest of the country, SF flaunts its share of big super new cars on super huge roads, feeds off over-consumerism, chomps over-nutritious meals and quaffs ethnocentricity…not unlike other developed self-satisfied cities in the world.

            Living in a city, though small, is still exhausting and quite distracting.   I need to be back to the soil.

            It’s been more than a month now since I’m back in this other world.  Feel quite disconnected from the world I have left on July 20^th.   Although I have left Made and the gardeners a list of things to be done while I’m gone and try to touch bases via sms now and then, there is not much news of the Place – Made always seems to have problems with his Hotmail.  

            The qi has gone into a permanent hiatus; Sifu has pretty much stubbed me out of his mind – a natural ephemeral interest that plagues us all.

            Still I think of the Place daily and hope to see green when I return.  In this other world, I’m preparing for the return, the world of gardening is still very much with me – I have been saving organic seeds of every kind, visited and worked in a organic farm just last week, buying on-line and off-line all kinds of healing and gardening books, will be attending a month-long intensive yoga teacher certification course soon….

            Unsure what all these are leading to – I’m taking things one step at a time.