Soul Work
The following Spring after we were married my husband and I
took a proper honeymoon to Bali. We rented a car and explored the island
extensively, traveling to all four quadrants. It was a life-changing
experience, three weeks rich in transformation with episodes I recollect like
touchstones, on at least a weekly basis. One of those episodes occurred near
the northern town of Singaraja at the unusual temple, Dalem Jagaraga. This
temple is dedicated to the worship of the god of death (Ciwa or Durga) so that when someone dies the soul may be at rest. The Balinese honor gods for both their positive and negative connotations, and recognize the importance of these yin and yang forces in the world. This temple is also famous for its unusual carvings inspired by
modern western additions to Balinese culture, when Singaraja was a major
trading port fighting for its independence from the colonizing Dutch. While we were visiting, examining some of
the carvings along an outside wall, we were approached by a man, Ketut Suradnya, who
lived down the street. He offered to give us a tour of the temple. Many times
in Bali we were approached with lots of come-ons as we were recognized as tourists. Some
of them were informative and well-managed, but many were much less of an authentic shared
experience. Ketut was knowledgeable and friendly in our initial conversation, more relaxed in his offer than insistent. Something in our intuition said to spend more time with
him. We accepted his offer with the implicit understanding that we’d give him a tip
to recognize his time and effort, a common practice in Bali.
Ketut was delighted. He knew
every story of the various parts of the temple and shared them with enthusiasm.
Whenever we asked Ketut about something specific we saw, he could easily give
us more information. My conversation with him was the most detailed explanation
I had ever received about my inquiry into Balinese Hinduism. He also told me
stories about Balinese politics, explained signs and phrases we had seen, and
taught us a few slang expressions in both Balinese and Indonesian. There was an
elderly woman walking the grounds with frangipani blossoms. Ketut slipped her
some change and quickly gave each of us a blossom to wear, himself included. We
walked the grounds talking about Animism and smelling of flowers.
The main altar of the temple
was an ornate wall towards the back of the grounds with several staircases
climbing up to various landings outside the ornate carvings. We examined this
for a long while. Ketut answered my questions about the staircases and how
the landings were used by the priests during certain ceremonies.
We reflected in silence on
the beautiful carvings. I thought about the many generations of Balinese who
had experienced spiritual community here, and the Dutch visitors originally
reflected in the temple’s design. I could feel them: their hopes, fears, and
loves, almost collectively like an ocean of different currents. I felt a great shift in presence. Ketut said to me softly, “Yes. For you it would be okay. There is trust…we could go up the
stairs some.” I just nodded, feeling thankful yet solemn to accept such an
honor.
We went up different staircases at the same pace to landings just across from each other. Both of us stopped short
of the first landing. I felt a wall of warmth, like a saffron curtain wrapped
around me. We prayed, and I smelled frangipani and offerings in the air (temple
incense, damp rice, and grass). Eventually we turned around and slowly
descended to join my husband, who was further back from the altar watching us.
All of this was done in silence. We exchanged easy smiles, and Ketut thanked my
husband, recognizing that he was somewhat left behind. This is the moment after we descended our separate staircases:
A few minutes later we
were discussing another part of the temple grounds. Soon Ketut’s wife
and little granddaughter came to greet us, and we learned more about their
lives in Bali. We adored them.
Ketut had welcomed us with
his words and heart. He shared his stories, the great history of the temple,
his faith, and his country. He recognized our openness and helped carry us in
our exploration, but we also connected on a deeper level of knowing, through great
presence and spirit. I believe my experience in taking in the aesthetic messages of the temple, in this case spiritual art, and mining the stories that surrounded us, helped me to key into my own intuitive meaning-making and truly connect to that authentic response. I
felt deeply connected to the presence of Balinese history and spirituality through our
experience with Ketut. But this knowledge was not simply gained through
cognitive means. I believe our experience on the temple stairs was a deep
shift. It was truly soul work, a way of knowing through the unconscious means of the spirit that we each carry with us. It’s still somewhat
mysterious to me, but we were undeniably connected to the place, to each other,
and to a larger sense of creation.
