A Week in the Rice Fields

12 February 2013

Tebola/Sideman (Si-de-man)

Fertile valley in east Bali

The view is stupendous, as you can see. Across the fertile valley, the priest’s amplified voice chants every day at noon and six at night; at 6 in the morning, people pray at home on their own.

The 4 p.m. rains begin on time each day

I sit on the terrace overlooking the view,  painting, writing, editing video and assimilating the rich experiences of the last six weeks.

My view as I write this -- ahh!

The time has passed quickly. Partly I want to stay longer, mostly feel saturated and content.

The complex, colorful, ceremonies fascinate me as they proceed slowly over hours. I've been to more than ten different ones so far. As a witness, I am watchful, alert, fascinated. When I put down my camera and participate, I chat, eat food offered to me, grow weary with everyone else until it is finally time to receive the sacred water from the priest and pray.

At first I wondered why everything took so long—then over the weeks I realize somewhere a priest is chanting mantras or people from a distant village are slowly arriving for their part, or offerings are being blessed with holy water and placed correctly at the temple, or a priest is delayed and we wait for his arrival. They call it Bali time, rubber time. Arrive at 5 p.m. and wait until 8, arrive at 9, wait till midnight.  I slow down to the heat and beat.

Goa Raja cave temple ceremony for the New Moon

Bali's most sacred mountain, the volcano Gunung Agung on a clear morning.
Often it is invisible behind dense clouds