So while it took me 24 hours to physically get home from Bali – to fly from Denpasar International Airport to Hong Kong, and then on to San Francisco – it only took me about 10 minutes in the car the next day to become some wild eyed impatient bitch who was half an inch from leaning on her horn because some dude in front of her wouldn’t turn right at the red even though he COULD HAVE.
“Oh my god,” I thought, slowly pulling my hand back from the wheel, “so this is how it starts.”
Because I really did think I had changed during my month in Bali. At least I hoped I had. In fact I’d never been more calm, more stable and more happy than I had been for the last 30 days. Maybe it was the 90-degree heat that forced me to slow down. Maybe it was my easy schedule: working with writing students everyday from 2-5, and then filling the rest of my time with yoga classes, cheap massages and slow visits with friends.
“Hungry?” I’d say if I ran into my Bali mates. “Anyone up for a walk?”
We never made plans. We were almost always in the moment, never seeing far enough ahead into the future to know what we’d want for dinner or what we’d feel like doing later. Not like here, where a date for dinner sometimes needs to be made three weeks in advance – something that always embarrasses me about my schedule and my priorities, and which often feels like work over friends.
And here I was, back home in the sleepy town of Alameda, about to ream this guy with my car because I needed to go to Trader Joes and I needed flowers and I needed to get to the gym and I had a workshop to produce the next day and I, I, I…
“So this is how it starts,” I thought, as I took a deep breath and slowed my car down.
The stress had snuck up on me. I’d forgotten about the pace of this place, and the hustle and the traffic and time, and how only an hour earlier I’d been at Kinkos printing some stuff and this customer was shouting at the lady behind the counter, screaming, “This is not what I asked for!” And how I too was standing there in line making up stories about how Kinkos doesn’t hire enough people, and what were they thinking? And this is no way to run a business and it was all terribly familiar, this heavy, dreadful feeling like things weren’t going my way.
And I saw, as I drove through the streets of Alameda last week, that I had been different in Bali, and it hadn’t been an illusion, and at my core I believe I am a steady, grounded, calm person. And how, if I wanted to keep a little Bali alive in me – this part of me that isn’t always trying to shove a gallon into a cup – that I would have to make some changes and actually make a practice of being calm – which sounds funny – but which I think means not over scheduling myself, and maybe trying to walk away from my terribly important work and my ambition – which is beautiful and which also barely lets me rest.
I’m thinking about how when frogs are placed in boiling water they will try to jump out. But when they’re placed in cold water that is gradually coming to a boil, they’re often unaware of the danger and will be cooked to death. That’s what I realized coming home from Bali, that my world – our world – is freaky stressful – I mean – just the traffic alone – and I’d known that, but I’d acclimated and forgotten, and for a long time I’d been walking around believing that everything was terribly, terribly important, and I better get to it – whatever that means.
I don’t want to be cooked to death. I don’t want to be someone who thinks evil thoughts about the lady who works at Kinkos, or who spits darts when someone cuts her off in traffic, but I am, sometimes I just am. The best I can do is try to remember Bali, and how it took traveling 8000 miles away from home to remember where I live and how I want to live and what that might take.
Profound writing. Being aware and simply observing how freaky stressful our world is. I don’t want to be baked to death either. xxoo
If we could begin each day in your Bali-state and mark the moment that “it all starts”… I wonder if it would be a reasonable goal to try and press slowly, gently into our day just a little further each time until it starts. Like a little daily celebration of defying the bedlam. That might be my mantra today. Thanks Laurie.
Oh what divine wise words. So easily we fall down that rabbit hole of darkness rushing from one thing to the next and over packing our schedules. To be able to really spend time in this moment is what it is all about. Thank you for this reminder.
p.s. your writing is wonderful
Boy, do I know what those arrivals home from Bali are like. Good luck with your re-entry. Remember jet lag is MUCH worse (for most people) coming back in this direction so cut yourself LOTS of slack. Sending love….
What a journey you’ve been on. Winter does the slowing down for me. It’s dark and rainy, and the pile of books I’ve been ignoring for years (while writing) are begging for me. I’m going to sit in front of the fire and restore myself this month. I wish I could get to Bali, but there’s still a lot to keep going with the book and teaching. A fire or two a week sounds good though. I love you, Laurie.
Yes, love this Laurie.
That’s one of the things I love about travel – how it illuminates home. Reminds us of our real priorities. Thanks for this. I could use a dose of Bali.
I want to go to Bali!
I love the comparison. It makes me wonder with some worry about ourselves.
I was running errands the other day and turned left at a traffic light. There was a cyclist on my right and I needed to make a very quick right to get where I was going so I stopped to let him ride past because . . . because I wasn’t in a rush and the turn was so quick he may not have had time to see me and adjust his speed and he was riding a bicycle for god’s sake. So I stopped and three or four cars behind me all began frantically honking their horns, the guy in the giant black pick up directly behind me was actually nearly standing up in the driver’s seat so he could press harder on his horn. I stopped for 6 seconds. The cyclist had to wave me into the right turn because clearly no one had time to let him go, and so I drove on – shaking and angry that I hadn’t thrown my car in park and stepped out into traffic to walk back and ask everyone behind me just where the hell were they going in such a hurry? Because I’ve got all the time in the world. Not one thing on my list is an emergency. I am not an ambulance driver. I do not have a dying person in my back seat. And I want to spend whatever time I have left on this earth in a calm and peaceful state.
So I’m with you, Laurie. Let’s slow down and stay the present moment together. Let’s all keep Bali alive in us.
I want to believe that there’s something better we can do, something more than just remembering the last time we felt free of the stress, something as available to the Kinko’s employee as it is to a self-employed writer and coach. It’s so heartbreaking, though, to see how few people are willing to accept it as a societal problem that needs collective answers and not an individual one that can be fixed by time management or money.
I know Bali. The grace is in the air there. Everything is an offering. Faint music is everywhere.
Same as Alameda ?
❤️
Welcome home…?
Laurie, A few years ago I traveled to Samoa and felt the same thing. Time is never if the essence there but something that just is…time a gift everyone there has to take and to give. No hurry ever. At first I thought “hurry up” and then relaxed into it and it was lovely. I have never been so at peace. I try to remember that and also try really hard now to just have some unscheduled time. Here we are made to believe there is something wrong with that notion of unscheduled time. A change in mindset. The Samoans and Balaneae have it right.
Maybe it’s the math teacher in me, but I love your metaphor of trying to cram a gallon into a cup. As you so often do, you paint a vivid and evocative picture with simple straightforward language.
Well done – can we really slow down in a world that is moving 75 mph and where we all carry smart phones and check our email, our FB, our dating sites every 10 seconds? I too recently spent 3 months in another place where daily hikes were part of my routine, where my diet was healthy and stress was low even though I was working. I’ve been processing the big questions – is it time for a tiny house in a small town? Can my work still be meaningful? Can I find balance in a place that values fast and more? I hope so.
Laurie, reading your post reminded me to keep with my real, wild writing from my heart. Love you and what you taught me last Spring in Santa Barbara. Several years ago, when I was a busy Mom of teenagers and held a full-time job as a middle school Science teacher, I was super stressed out and exhausted. Two months staying at a villa on the Acapulco Bay(Mexico) taught me to slow down, feel the warm breezes, and sensually enjoy the rocking of the afternoon hammock nap. Pure bliss which I try to remember when I close my eyes in stillness and silence for just a slice in time. Take time with your morning starter ritual to find your quiet center. Hugs from the Northwest.
Great piece. I can totally relate after coming back from peace corps and always reminiscing about the simplicity of lives outside of here and how time is so elongated and peaceful…..
wow!! thanks for the beautiful reminder! xoxo
I get this Laurie. This little Sonoma county town where I now live is my Bali and I feel the jolt every time I leave it to come down to the Bay. It’s a shock to the system and reminds me that there is another way to be!
Love this Laurie! Really exceptional and honest! XO
“…trying to shove a gallon into a cup…” That is a masterful image. Yes…that part of us in our busy important lifestyle. Thanks for the reminder to slow down and make a practice of being more Bali.
This is it right here, Laurie. This is everything we need to know about remembering who we are, and really – beyond that – WHY we are. We have to be merciless in getting back to that essential question because if we don’t, we’re doomed to keep cramming more gallons into our tiny cups and we’re doomed to ram our cars into each other, and we’re doomed to rebel against moment of “inefficiency” that slams into us. I am so glad that you’ve had a real-life experience in the kind of welcome and grace and softness of heart you encountered in yourself in Bali, so that bring it back with you and spread a little of it right in your own backyard.
Awesome Laurie. Thank you for the poke in the eye. I think it opened just a smidge wider….
Tell me about it. I have the same feeling when I return home from retreats and workshops. But I do have a way of bringing myself back to centre in the midst of it all and walking mindfully through my day. I also find smiling changes the way I move through my day. Your words are raw and real and always resonate.
Profound reminder:). I truly believe we’ll never lose the Bali in ourselves, it was so very real there, it required our presence, it’s simply its way. We definitely will have those human times as well where we just want people to get the Freak Outta Our Way and our progressing flow;). Love ya L!!