On my nose

“Zen is like looking for the spectacles that are sitting on your nose.”
D. T. Suzuki

I remained silent as I listened to Ubud’s awakening. Purring motorcycles made their way through another splendid morning. Villas stood unmoving amidst the green. Birds sang to each other. Pink frangipani welcomed the morning freshness. The sun spread its rays for all. I remained quiet, savoring it all.

During my five days in Bali, one of the places I visited was Goa Gajah, a centuries old cave where the first kings of Bali came to meditate in alcoves hewn from the rock face. I found it full of positive energy, surrounded by ancient trees and a water temple where the spouts do not run dry. Ruins of a Buddhist vihara destroyed in an earthquake in 1917 strewn in a river bed. The community was finalizing preparations for the annual visit by the gods during the temple’s Odalan festival.
















A guide shared the history of the temple, and his personal history. A devout Hindu, he saw himself as the reincarnation of a temple abbot in the Java’s Majapahit era. For twelve years, he said, he allowed himself to be accompanied by a guardian from the “other world” with powers to make his wishes come true. In 2005, he broke the connection as he realized that he could move forward without such help. When he doesn’t guide visitors, he works as cook in the temple kitchen.

I found Bali full of contradictions and surprises. After days of enjoying the rustic rural charm of Ubud’s environs, spending a night in the rapidly expanding urban centers close to the airport seemed chaotic. Yet I also saw that temple festivals remain prominent in both rural areas and in the city. And I was told that Balinese people might spend as much as half of their income on temple festivals that are organized by their community. When dining in La Lucciola restaurant in trendy Seminyak (the Yak), I saw lots of devotees at the Odalan festival of the temple next door, praying on the beach.













Back at home, I marveled at life’s lessons from all around me. Open doors and windows bring a variety of smells of life, some pleasant, some not. Yet they all remind me how extraordinary life is. I think I found the glasses that Suzuki sensei was referring to.

Photographs: Temple guide (top) and meditation cave (middle) at Goa Gajah, and Odalan procession (bottom) in Ubud, Bali.

Forgot to laugh

They slipped out of my life.

Walking back with a friend from lunch break yesterday, I wondered out loud why I haven’t laughed much in the past months. As I thought about it, I smiled, and my smile turned into a laugh easily. My lunch mate laughed too. What happened to the activities that made me happy before?

Playing music and writing help me to feel good and relax. Sharing time with good friends does too. I should make them a part of my life again, schedule them to make sure they happen. Knowing what makes me happy is not enough, it’s the doing that matters. Do it!

But do I really need do to something to be happy? I can slip into happiness without reason, from the inside out, from knowing that I am walking my personal journey, that everything is going to work out, and that I am surrounded by positive energy I can tap. Sounds good, but do it!

Do I need to go back to activities that made me happy earlier, or try new things? That does not seem important. I don’t feel bored with nice activities that I like up till now. And I know that I can always explore new things. But it’s fine to return to activities I like, and make them a regular part of my life. Do it!

Or do I need to buy new things to be happy? Well, I have been wondering about buying an iPod recently, especially after Apple sliced the prices in half. The new models look great, and even the old ones. I like the idea of carrying a wide range of music to suit my moods, in a “form” that fits any of my pockets, but with enough memory to forget it has a limit.

Anyway, I am happy as I am and with what I have. More possessions won’t make a difference. Except, I admit, I keep buying books, and they keep enriching my life. I enjoy browsing, buying, reading, and digesting books. Keep doing it!

So on the whole, about laughter and happiness, it’s remembering to do it that matters most for me. I’ll be it, do it, and schedule it if a week passes by without it.

As for today, I decided to join band practice and enjoy playing sax and listening to the others.

Photograph: HAPPY CHAOS BE MY GOVERNMENT - pavement art at Federation Square, Melbourne.

Temporary art

It was marvelous, the way she was engrossed in her art. Right there on the pavement, on the river bank, as residents and tourists walked by. Some even walked over the works made by fellow artists on the same path.

A place full of creative expression and impression, that’s what I thought. I’m talking about the South bank along Melbourne’s Yarra river. You meet sidewalk artists, and throngs of people visiting Victoria’s National Gallery, where the Guggenheim collection of modern are is on display. And just across the bridge, Federation Square features continuous gatherings of artists, musicians, and their audience.

People come to see, and be seen, for art, dining, drinking, shopping, and sports, which are all located along the river banks in this vibrant city. Not long ago, though, decrepit dockland buildings stood here, and the river was a polluted sewer, like most rivers still are in Asia. Until Melbourne’s residents started to embrace their river, and the river banks turned into prime property. What a nice thing to make happen.

I saw the same development in Brisbane, where citizens tore out the old docklands and replaced them with public facilities like galleries, convention center, state library, lots of eateries, and pathways for skaters, lovers, and just about anybody. Citizens now refer to the river as the city’s life blood.

In Melbourne, I cruised the Yarra river, visited its vineyards, including Yering Station, Victoria’s first, and drank plenty of nice white and red wines. After stretching my mind watching Guggenheim’s art collection, I lay down on a carpeted section of the museum to admire the stained glass windows in the ceiling. And an hour later I lay down on the grassy banks of the Yarra river under a gum tree (one of the hundreds of species of Eucalyptus), looking upward in space.

All this I did in the company of good friends, who treated me like only good friends will, and expanded my understanding of friendship in the process. With a friend, it’s so inspiring and easy to make nice things happen. And when you part ways, you know the coming together was good. Like an artwork on the pavement, an offering was made with trust into the future. It may seem temporary, but it lasts in the eye of the beholder.

Photograph: Art on the pavement (top), and Melbourne by the Yarra River (bottom).