Chapter 9 Indonesian Story(8)
"So now I have to become a pharmacist. I have to read my great-grandfather's medical books. These books are not made of paper, but palm leaves. They are called "lontars", which are Balinese medical encyclopedias. I have to study various Balinese medical books. Different plants, not easy. Gradually I learned everything. I learned to take care of people's many problems. One of them was physical sickness. I used herbs to help people who were physically sick. Another problem was family sickness, noisy all day long. I help them with harmony, with special magic pictures, and also with conversation. Put the magic pictures in the house and there will be no more noise. People are sometimes sick of love because they can't find a match. To Balinese and Westerners All the same, there are always many love problems and it is difficult to find a match. I use spells and magic charts to heal love problems and bring love to you. Also, I learn witchcraft and help people who are cursed by magic. Put My magic map is placed at home, which can bring you good energy.
"I still like being an artist, and when I have free time I like to paint and sell to galleries. My paintings are always the same paintings - when Bali was paradise, maybe a thousand years ago. Painting jungles, animals, breasts woman. Because I am a medicine man, it is difficult for me to find time to paint, but I must be a medicine man. This is my profession, my hobby, I must help people, or God will be angry. Sometimes births must be delivered, and rituals for the dead must be performed, Or a tooth-filing ceremony or a wedding. Sometimes I wake up at three in the morning and draw with the lights on - that's the only time I can draw. I like that when I'm alone, when I can draw.
"I cast spells from the bottom of my heart and never joke. I always tell the truth, even if it's bad news. I have to be good in life or I'll go to hell. I speak Balinese, Bahasa Indonesia, a little Japanese, a little English, a little Dutch There were a lot of Japanese here during the war. Not a bad thing for me - I read palms for the Japanese and they were friendly. There were a lot of Dutch here before the war. Now there are a lot of Westerners here, and they all speak English. My Dutch- -How do you say it? How do you say the words you taught me yesterday? Rough? That's right--rough. My Dutch is a little rough. Ha!
"I belong to the fourth class in Bali. The social class is very low, like a farmer. But I see many people in the first class who are not smarter than me. My name is Lao Si Lai Ye. Lai Ye is my grandfather when I was young. The name I was given at the time means "Mingguang". This is me."
I was ridiculously free in Bali.What I have to do every day is to visit Mr. Lai for a few hours in the afternoon, which is far from drudgery.The rest of the time is spent leisurely.I meditate for an hour every morning, using the yoga method taught by my teacher, and then meditate for an hour every night, using the practice taught me by Lai Ye ("sit still and smile").In between, I walk, ride my bike, sometimes talk to people, and have lunch.I found a quiet little library in the town, applied for a library card for myself, and now spend a lot of time in my life reading in the garden.After the intensive life in the ashram, and even the depraved days of eating, drinking and merry-go-round in Italy, it was a time of new calm.I have so much free time that I can count it in metric tons.
Every time I walked out of the hotel, Mario and the other front desk staff asked me where I was going; every time I came back to the hotel, they asked me where I was.I can almost imagine them keeping little maps of family and friends in their drawers, showing where everyone is at any given moment, to ensure they are accountable to the entire organization at all times.
In the evening, I rode a bicycle up the hill, crossing acres of rice fields in the north of Ubud, overlooking the beautiful green scenery.I saw pink clouds reflected in the paddy water, as if there were two skies—one heaven of the gods, the other the wet mud of mortals.One day I rode to the heron sanctuary, which had a reluctant welcome sign ("Well, you can see herons here"), but there were no herons that day, only ducks, so I watched the ducks for a while, Then ride to the next village.Along the way, I passed men, women, children, chickens and dogs. They were all busy with their own affairs, but they were not too busy to stop and say hello to me.
A few nights ago, I saw a sign on the top of a beautiful forest slope: "Artist house for rent with kitchen." The universe was so generous that I moved in there three days later.Mario helped me move in, and his other friends at the hostel said goodbye tearfully.
My new home is on a quiet road surrounded by rice fields.A small farmhouse-like house with ivy-covered walls.The owner was an Englishwoman who was in London for the summer, so I slipped into her house and took her place in this magical place.There's a bright red kitchen, a pond full of goldfish, a marble patio, a mosaic-tiled outdoor shower—I can wash my hair while watching the herons nest in the palm trees.The small secret path leads to the poetic and picturesque garden.There are gardeners here, so I just have to watch the flowers.I didn't know what to call these wonderful equatorial flowers, so I named them.Why not?This is my Garden of Eden, isn't it?Before long, I had new names for each plant—narcissus tree, cabbage palm tree, mauve plant, helix budgerigar, tiptoe flower, melancholy vine, and a pink one I christened "Little Baby's First Handshake." orchids.The pure beauty that flows here is unbelievable.From the tree outside my bedroom window, I can pick papayas and bananas.There is also a cat who lives here and is very affectionate to me half an hour before I feed him every day, and moans wildly the rest of the time, as if recalling the Vietnam War scene.Oddly enough, I don't mind.These days, I don't mind anything.I can't imagine or remember being dissatisfied.