Bali: Views & Downtown Ubud

Ricefield

A rice field somewhere in Ubud. Photo by KJ Lau from Hongkong.

Farmer

It was the rainy season in Bali. Every day it rained. The view from the house was all green — the rice fields were being harrowed, the last stage before planting, and soon was going to be planted one by one in symmetrical lines by a group of farmers, both men and women. I noticed this farmer every day faithfully caring for the rice fields. He trimmed the grass along the paddies, directed the water along the canals, and even when it was raining, he was there with his coconut leaf hat as his only protection.

Planting-rice

A farmer planting rice seedlings in symmetrical rows. Imagine the discomfort of bending to plant each rice seedling row after row, hectare after hectare.

Planting-rice2

A group of farmers planting rice. A common scene in Asia. In the Philippines, volunteers (“sugu”) would come to help in a work called “bayanihan” (after the word “bayani” or hero) whether it was to move a house, repair the dam or anything that would require communal effort. In my grandfather’s farm, the volunteers would be fed rice, mung bean soup (probably with the young shoots of bitter melon) and “tinaklub,” a triangle of muscovado sugar.

FarmerHarrowing1

A farmer harrowing the flooded field. At this stage, the final preparation for planting the rice, a type of cricket called “camaru” emerges and is collected. Fried with garlic and spices, it is a delicacy in many countries.

Roots

The trees, home of the spirits, are venerated. When a Balinese cuts down a tree or kills a animal for food, he first seeks its permission. There is a close relationship between human and nature and the spirit world.

Mandarin-oranges

This bamboo basket is one of many utensils that was made by an expert hand. Baskets are woven from palm leaves, rattan or bamboo or carved from wood. Dippers are made from bamboo or coconut shells. Bones are carved into figures like the characters from the Mahabharata. I bought a coconut shell etched with the faces from Ramayana — Rama, Sita, Garuda, Hanuman. Many of household utensils are hand-made, but mass-produced goods — usually plastic, are sneaking in.

Mount-Agung

That’s one of the active volcanoes in Bali. One time it exploded suddenly, without much warning, devastating a large area and killing many in villages around the vicinity. Enroute to a temple, when we wanted to see the volcano, there was a mist. We thought the mist would evaporate, but when we came back, there was an even thicker fog. We could not see anything infront of us. “Use your vision,” Nikolay suggested and we all laughed.

Volcano-1

View of a volcano from the balcony in the back. Often the volcano was misted or completely invisible. It was a pleasure watching it from a distance.

Volcano-in-backya

Another view of the mountain from the back of the house.

GaneshaBookstore

Ganesha Books is right in the heart of downtown Ubud, next door to Bali Buddha, an organic bakery, and the Post office and just a short walk to Om Cafe serving organic drinks and cakes. In between, you’ll navigate streets full of stores vending all sorts of goods — native handicrafts mostly — and cafes. There are Tibetan stores with bells, singing bowls, bhurpa, thanka, dorje. Haggling is part of the tradition, so go down by half or 2/3 and negotiate it from there. You’ll also see a few children begging. Bring some change for alms. NB: Ganesha has an excellent collection of new books on Indonesia (culture, religion, handicraft, art, artifact) and used books from the West. I did not buy any of the new because I thought they were rather expensive.I did buy book markers made of bamboo.

Downtown-Ubud-with-sc

You can rent a scooter. But forewarned,forearmed: the roads are difficult and dangerous to travel, especially in downtown and along the arteries. Aside from having to drive on the left side, the traffic is idiosyncratic and insane. The traffic in Bali is the craziest I have seen anywhere because there are trucks, cars, scooters, motor cycles, buses — all of them trying to hog the road. I do not know if it is true, but I heard that no driving test is required, all you have to do is pay for the license and you are let loose on the road. Even if you do not believe in Ganesha, the elephant god of beginnings and the arts, you are advised to offer some flowers and incense at his altar.

Reflexology-girls

There are many “massage parlors” in the area, especially downtown, offering different spa services: hot stones, essential oils and flower essences, foot bath and massage, reflexology, sports, herbal sauna, Thai. You can actually combine different techniques from the menu of techniques. In the center of the photo is Len, a married woman with a child, who worked on me a couple of times. For the foot massage, including shoulders, the fee was about 60,000 Balinese rupiah. (The exchange was about 900,000 BR to $100.) I did not ask how much she was paid by the establishment. Always, give a generous tip.

Signs-in-Ubu

As you can see, this street is crowded not only with stores but also but tourists and scooters. It is probably the heart of downtown.

Downtown-Ubud

That’s the main drag of Ubud. I can’t remember its name now. Hanuman? There were huge statues — Arjuna from Mahabharata and Sita from Ramayana — on main intersections. I did not spend a lot of time downtown. I bought postcards or saw the ubiquitous money changer or had the occasional dinner with friends.

Taxi-drivers

There were always idle taxi drivers waiting across from Ganesha Books. They thought I was Balinese. When they asked me where I came from, I challenged them to guess. I would give them 3 chances, I said, but they said, Chinese, Thai or even Mexican.

Manager

I got his name but promptly forgot it. He helped me charge my 2 camera batteries without trying hard to sell me anything. He was very patient, looking for the right charger. He found one and told me that it would take 2 hours for each battery, that I can come back later in the day. But I had no transport, so I signed up for a massage next door, listened to gamelan CDs at a sidewalk stall and joined Marina and Nikolay at Om Cafe. Only one battery was charged, the other was apparently dead. It is one of the hazards I’ve encountered in my travels. In Java, my camera died and won’t take a photo of the Magus. In Bali, the batteries died a couple of weeks into the trip and the G9 Canon fell into the water when my feet skidded on a mossy surface. It occurred to me that perhaps the spirits were preventing me from taking photos of some objects, people or rituals. I wondered if it happened to other people, too. Later this man in the photo volunteered his companion to drive me home in his scooter at night. It usually took only10 to 15 minutes to get to the house, but we apparently got lost. He got me home in the outskirts of Ubud in an hour and 30 minutes.

Bali: People

AgungandBetelNut

That’s Agung, our tour guide and translator, with a box containing betel nut, lime, leaves and tobacco. Part of a traditional ritual in the villages. A slice of betel wrapped with a green leaf daubed with a paste of lime is chewed slowly. It leaves a red color on the gums, lips, and teeth. I understand that it gives a mild high. My mother used to have it occasionally when we lived in a small town during my childhood, but gave it up when we moved to the capital. When I wrote to Tynne about it, she did some research and said,
Betel nuts, the fruit of the areca palm, are used exclusively as a mild drug which is said to promote euphoria, heightened alertness, sweating, salivation and an increased capacity to work. The active ingredient is betel nuts is an alkaloid named arecoline. It is ingested as a component of a ‘betel quid’ which is both chewed and held like chewing tobacco inside the cheek. Chewing betel is popular in many cultures. The nuts are legal to cultivate, buy, possess, and distribute without a license or prescription in the United States, although the Food and Drug Administration has banned the importation of betel nuts.
Read more: How to Use Betel Nut | eHow.com

End of quote. This girl is fun!

DavidRene3

David and I were having a chat one morning when KJ Lau from Hongkong arrived and started to take photos of us. KJ sent me some of the photos he took around Bali. He gave me permission to use some of them in my website.

MylesCemReneTyn

Myles (London), Cem (Turkey), Rene (US-Philippines), Tynne (Connecticut), and Lee (California) at a Balinese resto in downtown Ubud. I met Myles in London about 7 – 8 years ago. He studied Traditional Yang Family Tai chi chuan with me, including the 108 Solo fist form, Dao/Knife and the Gun/Staff. Cem is a teacher from Istanbul. I met him briefly aout 7 years ago in a penthouse restaurant overlooking the Bosphorus and a famous bridge in Turkey. Tynne is a raw-food chef and a Healing Tao instructor. It was the first time we met. Lee is a popular qigong teacher and acupuncturist who has been featured on PBS. I’ve known him since the early 90s. It was one of the very few times I joined my friends for dinner. Otherwise, I stayed home and often cooked or ate fruits (mango, avocado, papaya, banana, mangosteen, durian, mandarin oranges).

PierreGrocery

Pierre-Jean (formerly from France, now living in Turkey) occupied the bedroom downstairs from mine in Bali. A professional chef and a serious qigong and alchemy practitioner with a dry sense of humor, he has studied with David for many years now. I first heard about his exploits the second time I was in Istanbul when I was a guest of David in his flat along the Bosphorus. We were supposed to meet in Dalian, China in late 2007 but he got delayed in Turkey. Well, we finally met in Bali. A generous man, he used to share his delicious dishes with me.

ReneNikolay

NIkolay is at the cutting edge of psychic research in Russia. He is himself a master of several of the phenomena. In exchange for massage treatments, he patiently gave me lessons in improving “vision” — being able to read and see with the eyes closed. “But I am too old,” I protested. “This is better for the young.” He said: “Children and old people are the same. They both have fun and do not care about making mistakes.” I took him at his word and practiced the excises. On the last lesson, Marina joined us at the table and said: “Rene, this thing really works.” She asked me to give her a book to read. She put on a blindfold and black hood and forthwith began to read from the page of a recipe book I placed in front of her. The night before she did the same demo for a Hindu priest who was incredulous about the technique, except that she read from a Balinese newspaper.

David.-Morning-Practice.-Ba

David practicing in the morning. It was always raining in Bali and we hardly saw the sun. So when it came out, David and I stepped out. I went to the garden in the back and he went in front of the house to benefit from the sun. I remember taking a photo of David practicing one morning in a park just outside of Rome.

ROME.-DAVID-IN-PRACTICE.

David practicing in a park in Rome (2009). I often see David practicing in the morning, whether it was in Chiangmai, Istanbul, Rome, Huangshan or Bali.

Rene,-Tynne-and-Lee

Tynne, Lee and me during break. We horsed around a bit before the fire rituals practice. I thank both of them and other students of David for being suppotive and fun. Photo was taken by Cem, a teacher from Turkey.

Rene-Lee-din

Rene and Lee in Bali. We shared a dinner for two. A few items appeared on the plate, some of it very hot and inedible. Like Thailand, Bali can surprise you with their green and red peppers that sneak up like an explosive.

Dinnerfor2

The plate Lee and I shared had all sorts of small appetizers, a few of which were very spicy, but it was filling.

WomaninRain1

You’ll often see women with a basket balanced on top of their heads. The first time I went to Bali, in 2006, I was surprised to see a queue of women, their arms to their side, backs straight, carrying baskets on their heads on their way to the temple.

Shaman-with-umbrellla

The old shaman walking in the rain. He usually had that cloth with the black and white pattern, a symbol to ward off evil spirits. It was raining hard. The birds in their iron cases were asleep. The old shaman excused himself and went to the bathroom for his regular morning ablution.

Girl-and-offering

I was taken aback when I saw this young woman, somebody I had not seen before, making an offering at the spirit house. It was the first and last time I saw her.

BarefootBoy

The boy would quickly appear and as quickly disappear. One time he squatted on the ground and ate his lunch while a woman was making small baskets of offerings.

RoastcornKuta

We had seen a temple and were in Kuta. Our driver Wayang followed a circuitous road until we ended at a parking lot by the sea. It was well past lunchtime. Nikolay, Marina and I took a walk on the beach and passing a small wooden bridge, we smelled the scent of roasting corn. We got one each.

Roasting-Luwak-coffee

This photo was taken at the coffee plantation. The man was roasting luwak coffee, a unique kind pooped by the civet cats who eat the coffee beans. A crew carefully picks the excrement, washes it and then this man roasts it in a wok. Marina and I tasted the free sample. I heard that a cup costs about $40 in Tokyo and London Heathrow. I paid about $40 for a small box of it. I was told it can yield 50 cups.

Woman-in-store

The young woman was inside the store in the half-light. Her eyes were intense and she was motionless. I took the photo from the car while our translator and guide Agung was buying a gift for the old shaman.

“A man of parts, a master of Chinese arts”

This article was written by Ed Maranan, and first appeared in his column ‘Passage’ in The Philippine Star.

In Rene Navarro’s website, there is a description of where his journey began:

“Rene was raised in the shadow of the western mountain ranges of Luzon. His grandfather, Ingkong Poli, a raconteur and farmer and artisan, was the greatest influence in his early life. Ingkong Poli told him stories of powerful beings, warriors, monsters, fairies, from legends and corridos. It was in this idyllic world that Rene was first exposed to nature, storytelling, native herbs, craftsmanship, martial arts, poetry, and the mystical.”

Rene was a law student, prominent Alpha Phi Betan, campus writer, and an impromptu speech gold medalist in UP when I was still an undergraduate. The next time I would hear about him, I was living in London and I would be reading about his achievements in the US as a martial arts expert and a published writer. When he and another Fil-Am writer Patrick Rosal visited the UK, we arranged for a poetry reading for them at the Center for Filipinos in Hammersmith. After impressing the audience with a moving poem about the final days of his father, Rene proceeded to give a demonstration of the Yang Family Sword Form, annotating as he went through the graceful but powerful movements.

He invited me to his friend’s house in Richmond, south London, where he cooked a gourmet meal for the three of us, and later on the roof deck which had a magnificent view of the meandering Thames, gave another demonstration of his skill in Chinese martial arts and Filipino arnis.

A couple of years later, I wrote to him in Boston, inviting him to contribute an essay to a book I was editing with my daughter Len, A Taste of Home: Pinoy Expats and Food Memories. He came up with a terrific essay that did justice to the whimsical title: “Reflections on the Diaspora, Burung Babi, a Favorite Uncle, Malayan Fish Head Curry and a Trip to the Mountains.”

He visits the Philippines from time to time. Last year, he was here briefly to give a two-day seminar. The first day was on Zhan Zhuang (stationary postures and breathing exercises), while the second day, which I attended, was devoted to Tai Chi Chuan Dao Ren, the eight core movements based on the traditional Yang Family solo fist form. Only eight movements, but we sweated gallons through a full day of slow, deliberate motions done repeatedly.

As I write this, the boy from Tarlac who would turn into a Renaissance Man forever voyaging in the Filipino diaspora is in the mystical village of Ubud on the island of Bali for intensive training in Lei Shan Dao (lightning and thunder path).

It is just one customary way station in a life-long journey of self-discovery, in search of the ancient secrets and methods of meditation and healing, the Taoist philosophy of going with the flow, as much as the cultivation of character and physical strength via the martial arts. For more than 50 years, Rene has trained under the best gurus, sifus, magi, teachers of the ancient arts. After obtaining a third degree black belt from the Karate Federation of the Philippines in 1968, he became absorbed with Chinese martial arts and apprenticed under legendary teachers in Manila’s Chinatown. He learned Shaolin kung fu from “the most complete master” Johnny Chiuten and grandmaster Lao Kim, and obtained mastery of the Chinese staff, spear and sword under the tutelage of Lao Sigong. His first teacher of tai chi chuan was Chan Bun Te at the Hua Eng Athletic Association which was then in a Buddhist temple in Binondo.

Immigrating to the United States after finishing his law studies at UP, he worked as a lawyer for indigent clients, but never let up in his pursuit of more arcane knowledge, obtaining a degree in acupuncture and a certificate in classical Chinese herbs, seeking out the masters of Chinese martial arts in San Francisco, Los Angeles, New Jersey and New York, gaining more expertise in martial arts, finally discovering the method of the Healing Tao under Mantak Chia in New York’s Chinatown. It was also in New York where he reconnected with his Filipino roots, meeting up again with his former teacher in arnis de mano, Mat Mariñas. He resumed his training in Filipino stick-fighting with enthusiasm, even coming home briefly after the EDSA revolution to renew his ties with old buddy and karate/kung fu teacher Johnny Chiuten who was by that time living in Bantayan, Cebu, perfecting his eclectic methods of Chinese, Japanese and Philippine martial arts.

Rene has gone to the source of the ancient knowledge several times. He traveled to Chengdu in Sichuan in 1983 to study various forms of Wu Shu, such as northern spear, sword, monkey fist and cudgel. He was in China again a few years ago to teach English as a means of livelihood, but the main purpose was to explore further the ancient traditions of Shaolin kung fu in places where it is still being taught by venerable masters.

His knowledge of the ancient arts of healing, meditation, and fighting with bare hands or weapons is vast and prodigious, and this knowledge he imparts to students in workshops and seminars from the Catskill Mountains in New York to the shadow of the pyramids in Egypt, from a sun-washed island in Cyprus to an executive suite in a Makati building, from a village green in England to a tranquil village in Thailand.

The fields Rene Navarro is considered an expert in and therefore qualified to teach include acupuncture, dragon-well qigong, Xing shen Zhuang rehabilitative therapy, tai chi chuan Dao Ren and related forms, internal alchemy and spiritual practice, Chi Nei Tsang internal organ massage, Taoist philosophy, Shaolin kung fu or wushu, and arnis de mano. A metal/gold dragon, the master turns 72 in October.

An excellent chef, Rene loves to serve up his two favorite dishes. One is congee with black chicken, herbs (ginseng, astragalus, He Shou Wu or Mr. Wu’s black hair), red berries, and lurong or deer horn. The other one is pheasant or Cornish game hen with garlic, cloves, capers, olives, bay leaf, salted cod fish (bacalao), and chorizo de Bilbao.

I have hinted that he is an accomplished essayist. Rene is also a lyrical poet, with some of his poems appearing in various anthologies, and with three poetry collections reflecting his deep connection to the Chinese tradition: Du-Fu’s Cottage and Other Poems, Ascension and Return: Poetry of a Village Taoist, and The Weaver Girl and the Shepherd Boy.

Here are some lines from his poem “Dream in Baopu Temple”:

As I pass the rock where we sat, / I catch a glimpse of you doing / the Immortal Sword Dance / in the moonlight. / There is a spark of lightning in the sky. / I hear the Golden Rooster / crowing among the pines / ready to fly. / I offer three joss sticks for you / and the Taoist priest / rings a gong that resonates / in the distance. Where / is Ge Hong, the alchemist, / can he do his magic / to bring you back / here among the willow / trees?

Bali: Temples, Offerings, Initiations

Elephant-Cave-Temple

Like China, Bali has these temples carved on the granite side of a mountain. China’s are however Buddhist while Bali’s are Hindu. It is advisable to read up on Hinduism and the sacred texts and epics — Mahabharata, Ramayana, Upanishads. If you have no familiarity with the literature, you’ll probably miss a lot when you travel to Bali. Photo taken by KJ Lau of HK who said it was the cliff at Elephant Temple. I do not know if it was Gunung Kawi Royal Monument or Pura Tirta Empul. I visited the temple with Nikolay and Marina, but my camera battery was discharged. Marina promised to send me her photos when she gets back to Russia in March.

temple_steps

There are 350-odd steps, so you need strong legs. I do not know if climbing the steps would earn you forgiveness or merits as in the Batu Caves of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Bring joss sticks to light at the different altars in the temple.

ElephantCaveTemple

The river runs through the complex. Bring a bottle to fill with the water: it is considered healing and sacred. Like Mount Banahaw, the holy moutain in the Philippines, pilgrims take the water home to bless the house, friends and relatives.

TempleShore

Pura Tanah Lot. There is a temple complex by the shore. When this photo was taken, the tide was high and multitudes of pilgrims (and tourists) arrived to celebrate the festival of Shiva.

Ganesha

Ganesha, the elephant god, often sits at the entrance and gates of temples and buildings and houses. The god of beginnings, initiations and the arts, Ganesha has a rather complicated history: how he got to have an elephant head and trunk, multiple arms and different functions, etc. and why he is one of the foremost icons in the pantheon. In different cultures, there are different representations of the gods/goddesses in the pantheon. In Egypt, Hathor is represented as human with the ears of a cow depicting her as the symbol of nurture, fertility and motherhood.

ManShriofferings5.

Man Sri was our help. She shopped in the market for grocery — duck, chicken, pork loin, banana, avocado, mango, mangosteen and other necessities — and cooked. She learned how to use the ginseng/renshen and wolfberries/gu ci zi I brought from the US. A few times I got her to buy fresh durian and when its distinctive perfume suffused the kitchen, she helped me eat it. Balinese durian, smaller than the Thai, was the best I have ever tasted anywhere. Durian aficionados seek it and brag about its texture and flavor. Man Sri and I sat in the terrace and chatted. She talked about village life, her personal history, and karma. From the nearby village, the music of the gamelan would drift in through the afternoon silence.

Man-Shri-offering3

Every morning, Man Sri carried a basket of flowers, steamed rice, rice wine, and fruits, offerings to the land, the gods and goddesses, and the ancestors, and I would see her transformed into a high priestess, her long black hair flowing down the small of her back, belted with a sash and a colorful sarong wrapped around her waist, and she would sprinkle the rice wine around her, go on her knees, chant a sutra, and with palms joined together in prayer, raise them over her head. She gave me bottles of wine (rice and coconut) and everybody in the house had a toast just before I left. Sadly, I had to leave them behind. Her husband, a wood carver, made a dragon cane for me in celebration of my 72nd birthday this year of the Water Dragon.

Man-ShriOfferings


ManSriKitchen

That’s Man Sri in her incarnation as the cook in the kitchen.

Shaman-at-Initiation

Look at this Hindu priest-shaman-healer. He presides at this initiation attended by a whole community. His voice hardly rises above a whisper but I could hear his chant from a distance. There is something about his presence, a charisma, a mystical aura that captivates his audience and followers. When we arrived, he bowed to us, shook hands and offered a cigarette and a cup of coffee. I bowed to him and kissed his hand (a traditional practice in the Philippines when one meets an old relative). He clasped my hands in both of his, a gesture that characterized our relationship. One night, after a cleansing at another temple, he held my hand, looked into my eyes and surprised me with, “Shantih, shantih, shantih!”

Courtyardtemple

At a courtyard of a small temple in a deserted road about an hour from Ubud, we gathered for an initiation and cleansing. There was a gecko that kept barking every now and then as the shaman chanted, and gave his blessings. Outside, the patter of steady rain and the explosion of an occasional thunder and lightning.

Offerings

A woman prepares the offerings every day. She weaves a hundred small baskets with coconut leaves, fills them with flowers and food (usually rice). It is a tradition observed religiously everywhere in Bali.

MarinaNikolay

Marina and Nikolay at the crowded entrance to the Pura Tanah Lot Temple (Tanah/Land, Lot/Sea) dedicated to the goddess of the sea Betara Tangah Segara. It was a high holiday in the Hindu world, the Festival of Shiva, and pilgrims and tourists were going to the temples all over the islands. At Pura Tirta Empul, pilgrims were bathing in the spring pool for cleansing, blessing and rejuvenation.

Initiation-rites

David and Rene with Indonesian disciple at a initiation ceremony.

MarinaPierre

Marina and Pierre at the initiation rituals intently listening to the stories of an Indonesian about a shapeshifter-shaman who could transform himself into an animal, usually an eagle, right before your eyes.

BackyardSpirit

You’ll see them all over town, in front and back of houses and buildings. They are dwelling places for the spirits to rest on their travels. A kind of way station or hospitality homes for the other world.

Dateline: Ubud, Bali, Indonesia. E-Mails and Adaptations.

January 21, 2012.
We were sitting on the balcony this morning in Sawah Indah (Beautiful Rice Fields) when David Verdesi* said that Ian Baker, the writer and explorer, is arriving in Bali. In February 2006, Ian was in Bangkok and was supposed to join us in Java en route to Borobudur to do a documentary for National Geographic. David and I were visiting John Chang, the famous Magus of Java, at the time. I did not know anything about Ian Baker, but David told me stories about him. David also had an autographed copy of Ian’s book “The Heart of the World: A Journey to the Last Secret Place.” The Preface by the Dalai Lama says it is the search for the lost land, the legendary Beyul Pemako. That’s “the hidden land shaped like a lotus,” located somewhere in indescribably difficult terrain in no- man’s land in the borders of China, Tibet and India. No doubt a fascinating story and from the blurb Ian’s exploration sounded better than an Indiana Jones adventure. Hey, the search for Shangri-La is an ancient and continuing human obsession, isn’t it? We waited for Ian … and waited and waited. Meantime, in the idle hours in Java, I read the book, arguably one of the best in the genre of travel literature, up there with the works of British writers Colin Thubron, Laurence Durrell and Simon Winchester. Finally, we got the news that Ian could not come because his mother took sick in Thailand. When I got back to the US, I bought myself a copy of the book from Strand, my favorite bookstore, south of Union Square in Manhattan. I read the book all over again page after page through the detailed geography, impressive research and felicitous prose. I learned that there was a National Geographic DVD of the exploration, but I could not find a copy. I bought Ian’s other books — “Tibetan Art of Healing” and “The Dalai Lama’s Secret Temple: Tantric Wall Paintings from Tibet” – indispensable keys to Ian’s oeuvre. The former is an excellent source of information about Tibetan healing, with extraordinary paintings and sketches of different techniques, the model of the body and different organs. The latter particularly is rich in the materials of the esoteric meditation called “dzogchen” (the teachings of the Great Perfection) and probably more than any other book shows perhaps for the first time the mysterious and mystical wall paintings that are supposed to guide the Dalai Lama on his road to enlightenment. It is sad to read that His Excellency, the present Fourteenth Dalai Lama, because he had to escape from Tibet, was unable to set foot on the Lukhang (Lu/serpent deities, khang/temple)/Serpent Temple in the middle of the lake behind the Potala Palace. Contemplating the murals – in reality a veritable manual of high Tibetan Buddhist meditation – during the Dalai Lama’s retreat appears to have been an obligatory ritual. ** They were painted by mysterious artists after the Fifth Dalai Lama (1642-1682) had mystical visions apparently due to his encounter with a Lumo (female Naga).

Since I arrived here in Bali on the evening of January 5, 2012 we have tried to avoid the tourist route, focusing on the training and visits to the masters. It was a good idea that David rented a house at the end of a road leading to the rice fields outside the town. We’ve had the benefit of quiet and privacy and a pleasing landscape, with a view of the coconut groves and the distant volcano.

The ceremonies have really been quite moving. The big initiation attended by the community was itself a magical occasion. I thought of how the community was bound by this faith, united in the charisma and qi of the old master, and in the culture and religion of the islands. It was, I realized, something that was missing in a westernized culture.

Sometime when we first visited at his village home and temple, the old priest asked me, through Agung the guide and translator, if my country had the same tradition. I said, No. It was difficult to explain that my country, the Philippines, was colonized, first by Spain (Roman Catholic) and then by the US (Protestant), and took a different historical route, that we have been westernized, that among other things, we have Christian processions and masses instead of the ritual Hindu dances, that we Have/had a western education …

Last time we – David, Pierre, Ana, Nikolay, and me – went to the village an hour by car from Ubud, the old shaman gave all of us his blessings. As we said goodbye, the old man held both my hands in his and said, “Shantih, Shantih, Shantih.” It took me by surprise and touched me deeply. He often took particular attention to hold my hands on the four occasions we visited him. The old shaman had become a familiar figure after our third visit. I had sat with him as he wrote the mantras and demonstrated mudras of his lineage, heard the explanation for the rituals that he conducted.

It was different in many ways from my encounter with the Magus of Java John Chang who had this overwhelming power called yin-yang gong or the mating of the yin and yang in the dantian that resulted in a strong electrical current. Weda, his nephew, commented to me that the power was not spiritual. I was of course surprised to hear him say that and I thought about it for a long time and I concluded that I wanted something else … as I expressed in the concluding paragraphs of my essay “Thunder Path in Huangshan” — I wanted something else … peace and love and clarity and stillness. It is what I truly believe in. Here, in Bali, I’ve seen it in the animist Hindu culture. There is an milieu here that is harmonious, soft and gentle … I found that they have a faith in the sacred. I feel that my belief — as expressed in the essay “Honoring the Sacred” — has finally found people who are animated by it.

There are obvious similarities, of course, between Bali and the Philippines — in the language for instance. It is close to Capampangan, the language of my region north of Manila. We share the same or almost similar words – nasi/rice, bulan/moon, batu/stone, masok/entrance, ribu/thousand, dua/two and so many more. We also are similar in racial and physical characteristics. But at the same time, I notice the big differences in the religion and culture. The Philippines is westernized and Christian. It is a simplistic quotation, I admit, but the remark, “The history of the Philippines is 300 years in a Roman Catholic Convent and 50 years in Hollywood” says a lot. Despite the years of foreign occupation and internecine warfare, Bali’s culture seems intact: dances, movements, martial arts, arts and crafts, statuaries. They know their sacred and religious texts.

I’ve tried to articulate my thoughts and mixed feelings about my country where sadly, there are times when I feel like a misplaced stranger in my own home.

January 16, 2012.
I have just been through the worst nightmare of a traveler — losing his credit/debit card. I had brought what I thought was sufficient cash for the time I will be in Bali, but turned out there were other unexpected expenses when I arrived. So I decided to ask my son in the US to inform the bank that I am in Bali and will probably use the card. After all the procedures he went through, I could not find the card. I emptied my wallet and my bag. It was nowhere to be found. I drafted an e-mail to my son but did not send it hoping my card will turn up, after all. We were at the performance of the Ramayana, and I tried to focus on the show, but my mind was on the credit card. I recognized some of the characters — Rama, Sita, Hanuman, Garuda … David, my host, took me home and he and a few other companions proceeded to another shamanic event, a trance dance, in town. On the off-chance the card was in my bedroom, I went upstairs and turned the bed sheet over. Lo and behold, it was there staring at me. It was the most beautiful sight in the world at that moment. So I am here, alone, in the big house listening to Saint Saens’ Carnival of the Animals and the cacophony of the frogs and the crickets and nursing a cup of hot espresso coffee.

In 2006, I was invited by David to Java to see the famous Magus. (You can look him up on youtube for his incredible demo and read about him on my website under “Thunder Path in Huangshan.” Kosta Danaos has written about him in “The Magus of Java: The Teachings of an Authentic Taoist Immortal”. Laurence Blair has also mentioned him in a book “Ring of Fire: An Indonesian Odyssey.” I read the book in Bali. ) After close to a month, David left for Thailand. Weda, a nephew of the Magus, invited me to go to Bali with him. He said we were going to meet a strange shaman, a shape-shifter who could change into an eagle right before your eyes. I had heard about something like it from a friend who had seen it in Malaysia. Of course, I was skeptical about it. Anyway, I was supposed to check into a beach hotel, but when we arrived in Bai, Weda ordered the driver to take us to the home of his relatives in Kuta. His aunt and her husband were in the pool. There was construction (of a museum for batik, silk and other arts and crafts I heard later) going on. There were several houses in the compound. The man emerged from the pool, came up to me, and said, “Mr. Navarro, it will be an honor to have you stay with us.” I did not know what Weta said in Bejasa but I was surprised of course and did not know what to say, except give my thanks. I was given the use of a house, a car and a driver. Weda was told to sleep in the library. I said, he can stay with me.

One of the places I was advised to visit was a Hindu temple where an old Hindu healer was in residence. He was doing healing when we saw him. There were about 10 foreign guests, apparently students of his, who sat in a semi-circle in front of him as he took them on one by one. He used a small and thin foot-long wand to poke at different parts of the body. I recognized them as acupuncture points. The patient would grimace and/or make a sound as the old man pressed this or that spot. And then it was my turn. I noticed that the probe he used was a wooden stick, shiny from use and in the shape of a snake. He spent about 10 minutes exploring some of the famous acupoints as I moaned and groaned from the pain. When he was done, I went back to my seat. “You have sinus problem,” he remarked. “Yes,” I said. “Do you want me to treat you?” “Yes,” I said. Upon which, he went to his desk. With his back turned to me, I could not see what he was doing. He came up to me and said, “Close your eyes.” I closed my eyes. Then, he spit on my face. “Keep them closed for 10 minutes,” he ordered. Everybody laughed. As the saliva dripped down my face, I smelled the odor of peppercorn and I felt a clearing in my sinuses. It was, I thought, a different healing modality! Something I or anybody else, no matter what the intention, could not have done in the US.

In retrospect, I realized that it was an approach that was based on a different paradigm. Each healing system has almost invariably its own foundation, its own reality and rationale … its own perception of the body. So the diagnosis and treatment are different too.

Remember that there is usually a payment required if you are going to see a healer. Inquire ahead of time how much it is. If none is required, it is good practice to make a donation just the same. I do not know if it is current, but here is information from the business card of the healer I saw in 2006:

Name: Tjokorda Gde Rai
Puri Negari
Singapadu Tengah – Sukawali 80582
Gianyar – Bali – Indonesia
Telp. (62 – 361) 294585

January 18, 2012.
Yes, I am still enjoying Bali. Most of my time is dedicated to the training. No touristing for me here. Whatever extra time we have is spent attending rituals and meeting masters. It is an incredible place, especially if you have connections with the community and if you live outside the city. David rented a house adjacent to the rice fields at the end of the road. When I wake up, I can hear the gecko barking in the dark and the roosters announcing the sunrise. I go to the terrace and see this young woman Man Sri, our help in the house, looking like an ancient priestess, long hair flowing down to the small of her back, carrying a basket of flowers and fruits and palm leaves, her daily gift to the land — coconuts, bananas, rice, the rivers and lakes and mountains — and the gods and ancestors and she goes on bended knees, palms together above her head, and chants quietly facing the spirit house. “There’s nothing that is not sacred on this island,” David said. When you drive an hour to the hinterlands, past the rice terraces and the farms, the small villages, and the coconut and banana groves, past the quiet temples and deep valleys, and the wood and stone carvers, you’ll see a queue of women on certain holy days carrying baskets on top of their heads, walking to a sacred temple. It was one of the first scenes that astonished me the first time I visited Bali with Weta in 2006.

I was struck by the natives’ familiarity with their culture and religion. Even our taxi-driver, whom I invited to dine with us, knew the religious texts and the gods. He talked about Arjuna and Hanuman. He was like a scholar giving a lecture on his academic specialty. It was quite an experience listening to him. It was like hearing an ordinary man in China talking about Sun Wukong/ Monkey or the Romance of the Three Kingdoms or a waiter in Greece telling stories from the Odyssey or Iliad. I am happy that the big corporations like Walmart haven’t gobbled up the island and its arts and crafts — batik and silk industry, singing bowls and bells, statuaries and woodwork — and dumped mass- produced and consumer goods Made in China. Watching the performance of the Ramayana, I was impressed with two small girls dancing the legong, a long choreographic number, replete with different stylized movements. They must have trained for a long time. I can just see them emerging later as popular folk artists or national treasures. NB: I did not see any McDonald’s in Ubud or anywhere else in Bali, but I saw one somewhere on one of our excursions to the beach. It had the familiar (and vulgar) arch standing 2 stories high!

January 23, 2012.
Ian arrived at the house yesterday. I was in downtown Bali having my camera batteries re- charged at an electronics store. When I got back to the house 3 hours later, Ian was still there waiting for David. I said hello and he introduced me to his companion Rob. I told him that we were supposed to meet in Java in February 2006. He could not remember. Instantly Ian and I fell to talking about what we were doing: He was researching Tibetan yoga for his new book and was going to interview David. I said I was studying Lei Shan Dao with David and practicing Traditional Yang Family Tai chi chuan. When David came down, we went to a fancy French restaurant, ordered our dinner, and as we settled down, Ian asked David to answer some questions. We listened to David’s mesmerizing talk about Tibetan yoga, lost secrets, nei dan/internal alchemy and the incredible masters, what had happened to his Chinese connections, the Huangshan hermit Xuang Kong, Wang Liping of the “Opening the Dragon Gate” fame and the Magus of Java John Chang. Rob talked about powa, the Tibetan Buddhist technique of transference of consciousness. Ian mentioned the wai dan/external alchemical formulas of some masters he had studied with on his explorations in remote places in Asia. We swapped information back and forth, bantered, laughed and guffawed. The 12-odd tapas-like dishes materialized and disappeared. (I am not familiar with French cuisine. Is there a name for those small servings? ) One was flavored with fresh jackfruit, another was raw squid with the lingering taste of an elusive herb, still another was tuna tartare with the piquancy of a tropical spice and yet another was a fish native to Balinese waters. I should have taken notes, but I enjoyed the conversation so much, I forgot to record anything, not even with my still-functioning camera. It was the most engaging, memorable and informative conversation I’ve had within memory. Ian said it was like the movie “My Dinner with Andre.” The dinner was also the most expensive I have ever had in my 72 years on the planet. But hey, I had no regrets! It was all worth it. Nobody in the world could have contrived the night in his imagination.

Later, we took Ian and Rob to their hotel. We promised to get together again. But it wasn’t meant to be. Nicolay and Marina, the Russian couple famous for their psychic research, had invited me to tour Bali with them. Meanwhile, David had to leave for another island to see a master with incredible powers. And I did not know where Ian and Rob were.

Post Scriptum:

January 24, 2012.
Just before I left for the airport for the flight back to JFK Airport in NY, David called. He was quite excited by his new discovery and experience. He arrived at his destination in the evening during the celebration of the Festival of Shiva, a huge holy day in Indonesia. He had not eaten anything and was mustered into an overnight sitting meditation that ended at dawn. The master had given him a powerful initiation, zapped his dantian with unbelievable heat, and basically adopted him. It was all he could report at the time, he said. There were certain important details he could not talk about on the phone. And then he had to go because he was being called back for the continuation of the training. It had been going on for the last two days, non-stop. I wondered if he had eaten yet!

Wayan, the taxi-driver, picked me up early. Nikolay and Martina hitched a ride to town. I dropped them off at a museum. Meeting them was another serendipitous synchronicity in my life. It was a gift that I did not expect. We attended shows and initiations. We participated in the fire rituals. We had breakfasts together. We visited temples and museums. We spent more time together than I had anticipated. In fact, we spent more time with each other than anybody else. Who knew that I would be able to study (and see a psychic phenomenon) with these exceptional Russians when I came to Bali? As arranged by David, Nikolay gave me lessons and I gave him treatments over a period of two weeks. When we said good-bye, I knew I would miss them. When I hugged Nikolay, I said: “My friend and teacher.” He almost simultaneously said, “My doctor.” When Marina and I hugged each other, I felt her gentleness and stillness. There was nothing else to say.

On the long drive to the airport at Denpasar, I remained quiet, deep in contemplation of my “fortune,” what I had gone through and experienced and the wonderful people I had encountered in Bali. Wayan stopped at a batik store. I picked up some sarong and a piece of woven batik material Ava, my granddaughter, asked me to bring. At 11 she designs and sews her clothes.

I treated Wayan to dinner at a restaurant, one where you could sit barefoot on colorful cushions at low tables and watch the fish in the pond. He ordered fried rice/nasi goreng while I had a deep-fried fish and spicy pickle. We slowly ate and nursed our Indonesian beer. There was nobody else around. He hummed an Indonesian tune. He told me that many people would come to this place with their families on weekends and holidays. They would fish in the pond and grill what they caught. I asked Wayan about his family, how were his kids doing in school. He gave me the usual answers: they were doing well. I thought of the cultural context of his remark. I sensed the stoicism born of his awareness of karma. In some societies, people prefer not to say they are doing very well – or that their daughter is beautiful or son handsome — because it might bring down the anger or jealousy of the gods on them. Sometimes they won’t say the truth about their life because of pride or a sense of privacy. I asked him to write his address in my journal so that we could keep in touch.

When we reached the airport, I asked Wayan how much I owed him for the limousine service. He said in his halting English, “Anything you like.” When he picked me up from the airport on my arrival, he charged me the equivalent of $30 or $40. It was actually cheap considering that the airport was very far. He explained that he waited a long time because of the rain and the delayed luggage. He was usually specific about the fee – often between 300,000 and 400,000 Rupiah — when he took us on our expeditions around the island. But for the first time, I got a vague answer. I felt that he and I had crossed a boundary in our relationship.

February 15, 2013.
There’s a 13-hour difference between Bali and Pennsylvania. It took me a while to recover from jet lag. I preferred Singapore Airlines or Thai Airlines, but I could not book my flight with them. I had to take Qatar Airlines through Travelocity … and it was very expensive, perhaps because I decided to go to Bali only two weeks ahead. It took about 30 hours, including layovers, to get to Denpasar International Airport in Bali. JFK to Doha (approximately14 hours plus 8-hour layover), Doha to Singapore (11 hours and 2- hour layover), Singapore to Bali. From Denpasar back to JFK was the same route, except the layover at Doha was reduced to 3 hours. I arrived at JFK at about 2 pm. Between customs and immigration and my luggage, I missed the 3:30 TransBridge Bus to PABT in NYC. I had to wait for the 7:30. By the time I got home and settled down, it was past midnight.
*For more information about David, go to www.davidverdesi.com

** Caveat: In his introduction to the book, HH the Fourteenth Dali Lama Tenzin Gyatso says: “Originally, the Tantric practices illustrated by these murals were revealed only after years of study and meditation under a qualified teacher. Without understanding the context of compassion, the awakening mind and the emptiness of inherent existence within which they function, the methods of Dzogchen and the Highest Yoga Tantra could easily be misunderstood. Nevertheless, I believe that these paintings can be a source of profound inspiration even for those who have had no previous exposure to Tibetan Buddhism.”

APA Seminar, Pennsylvania: DragonWell QiGong

DragonWell QiGong

With Rene J. Navarro, Dipl.Ac.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

10:00 a.m. – 6:00 p.m.
Won Institute of Graduate Studies
Sponsored by the Association for Professional Acupuncture in PA

About Rene Navarro:

An internationally known teacher, Rene J. Navarro, Dipl.Ac. (NCCAOM) has been involved in the martial arts, healing, acupuncture, daoism and self-cultivation since the early 1960’s.  Rene’s studies have taken him to Indonesia, where he met the Magus of Java, and Huangshan, China, where he encountered the incredible hermits of Lei Shan Dao.  He has written articles and poetry about his travels and studies and has taught students with similar interests all over the globe.  He graduated from and was a faculty member of the New England School of Acupuncture, and also was a certified instructor of the Healing Tao with Mantak Chia.  He has traveled the world and studied with many masters; for more information about his remarkable life, go to www.renenavarro.org.

About the Workshop:

DragonWell QiGong includes the 3 Breaths, the Inner Smile and the 6 Healing Sounds, which are traditional practices in China. They are part of Taoist self-cultivation for healing and longevity.  DragonWell QiGong is a healing sequence that incorporates different postures and movements that come from the traditional repertoire.  This course will enable the practitioner to heal the organs, develop stillness and focus, grow qi, and strengthen the physical and energetic body.  It will also enable practitioners to share these practices with their clients.

Sign up for this 7 NCCAOM PDA point (pending) class now!
$135 for APA members (NJAAOM, MAS, ASNY)
$150 for Non-members
Please bring your license # with you for PDA’s.

Go to www.acupuncturepa.org for Registration Form and Directions.
Janice MacKenzie, L.OM., Seminar Coordinator – acujanny@verizon.net