I’m surprised by how quickly I fall into routine with life at Jiwa Damai.
It’s my first official day as a volunteer at Jiwa Damai. I start the day off with yoga and meditation again. And this time Max joins. I can tell I’m a little sore today, but I stick through all the positions. I love being able to start my day this way.
After breakfast, Catherine walks Max and I through cleaning duties. There isn’t very much cleaning involved. The way I clean at home is much more rigorous and sanitizing. But there aren’t really resources here for good cleaning supplies. While Catherine cleans up dishes from the guests’ breakfast and Max goes to fix the computer as requested by Margret, I finish cleaning duties. As I perform my volunteer duties, I easily fall into a sense of a belonging and comfort. It’s funny, all it takes is a sense of routine and purpose to feel myself mold into this mysterious but simple place.
Garden duties are pretty simple. Catherine and I just have to weed out the butterfly garden so that new plants can be grown in the vegetable beds that are buried underneath the overgrowth. We have these miniature wooden benches to sit on as we crouch over our work, and use our bare hands to pull out the roots. There’s a nice rhythm to the weeding and I find myself enjoying it. Ya, my hands are caked with dirt and my back aches a little, but I can physically see my progress in front of me and it feels good. It feels so much more rewarding than when I was selling clothes at a posh boutique store in Los Angeles.
Catherine and I talk about this. She was a waitress before coming to Jiwa Damai and knows exactly how I feel. There’s just something different about feeling work and progress in your own bare hands. It’s just so…satisfying. It’s really nice talking to Catherine while working. Our conversation is easy-going. We talk about relationships, our family, school, what we want to do in life. I like how French is her first language because we can learn from each other. I tell her she should teach me some French, even though I’m horrible with pronunciation.
Catherine and I finish weeding around the same time Max finishes his delegated duties. He was helping Fendi, the head gardener, feed the 200 coconut trees on the property with a special liquid compost. Beetles have been killing off the trees, so Margret is glad to have another strong work force to help Fendi save them. The three of us work together to water all the plants that are spread out between the three gardens. This will always be our last duty of the day, since we have to wait until the sun is less direct to water them. I didn’t realize how much watering there is to do. I can’t believe Catherine did this all by herself every day. Since there is a leak in the pool (yes there’s even a pool here), the water pressure is down, making it really hard to water the plants with the hose. I take over a large portion of it (there’s only one hose) and quickly become exhausted because it fricken takes forever. Thank god the water pressure isn’t always that bad. By the end of it, I’m tired, but know I’ve done some good solid work. I’ve already learned so much, such as what time of the day to water the plants, that you have to direct water to the roots for tomato plants, how much water was necessary for the plants to survive in the hot climate, and that I will have a lot of bug bites during my stay here. Poor Catherine’s legs are covered in red bumps from mosquitos and the little bugs that hop onto you as you water and flood the soil they sit in. It was only a matter of time before my legs would look the same way.
Before dinner, the yoga group joins hands (and make us volunteers join too) as they sing their favorite dinner blessing:
Yummy yummy yummy, I’ve got love in my tummy, and I feel like loving YOU.
There are a few rounds of this and laughter, and then we all sit down to another amazing meal, with our salad and vegetables coming straight from the very garden I’d just watered. The yoga group has this intoxicating love and positivity about them, so when they invite us to join them on a walk to a nearby resort for dessert I say yes.
Along the way I explain to the girls that I’m not dating Max (to which the girls reply with glee, all having a little crush on him). I feel strangely safe as our group walks through the dark, dirt road. Little Balinese kids wave at us excitedly and ask for pictures with us (they looove taking pictures with white people). Our only danger are the dogs who bark and mash their teeth at us. No matter how cute they are, you don’t want to get near the dogs in Bali (at least the ones in Ubud). They are primarily guard dogs and will bite you.
It’s strange being at the nice little resort tucked away down the road where you can order a banana split and have full access to wifi. Our huge group seems to disrupt the tranquility of the place. I get to talking to some of the girls about horoscopes (which I’ve always had a thing for). They end up introducing me to some yogi terms. I learn about the three different energies, or doshas, one or two of which makes up an individual. Vatta tends to characterize tall and slender in physique, creative and lively, with a quick mind and short bursts of energy, racing thoughts and tends to have cold hands and feet. Pitta tends to have a strong, medium physique and are assertive, competitive, have good leadership skills and are uncomfortable in hot weather. Kapha have a sturdier, heavy build but are soft and easygoing, compassionate, slow, but steady and self-sufficient. The girls tell me they see me having vatta energy.
Earlier at dessert, I was telling the only guy of the yoga group about taking the bucket showers. He and some of the others are surprised that that is how the volunteers bath, and offer to let us sneak into their more conventional showers. I realize that I don’t even want to use the normal shower. I love showering with the bucket. It’s new and raw. It’s an experience. I realize I’m really taking this new lifestyle for what it is. I love it.
Day two as a volunteer is a little different.
Today is pretty quiet since the yoga people have the day off. They all split off into different excursions. There is no yoga session in the morning but I still wake up at 6:30 to do my own yoga and stretching. I discover that one of the other yoga girls has the same idea, so I find a spot off to the side so as not to disturb her. I first attempt to meditate. I try to focus on the sounds outside: I listen for the sounds furthest away and then the ones that are closest, just as the teacher had instructed the first morning I joined meditation. It doesn’t work very long. I’m too scatterbrained. My mind keeps drifting to a silly guy, to home, to the people I would hang out with when I returned this summer. This is definitely something I need to work on. I think about what I read in that Zen for Dummies book I snatched up from the used bookstore at home: you need to be able to focus on the now, not the past or future. That’s a big problem of mine. My time at Jiwa Damai is my chance to fix that. Or at least work on it.
I can tell that my body is even more sore today. So it’s probably good that there isn’t a real yoga session this morning. It still feels good to wake up with some poses and stretching, to get my blood flowing. Catherine joins me too. At breakfast, Margret gives us (well more Max and Catherine) some computer instructions. I offer to take care of bathroom duties and then join them for extra technical help. The computer work is kind of frustrating but we figure it out after a couple of hours. I’m glad when it’s time for us to head out into the garden. Today Max joins Catherine and I in our weeding. As we fall into the rhythm of pulling out weed after weed together, I realize we have a solid group here. It’s easy for all of us to talk. We even talk about sharks for a solid twenty minutes.
Catherine has been giving me lessons on some Balinese phrases. I got two down yesterday and two more today:
Suksma (pronounced suk-semah) – Thank you
Samma samma – You’re welcome
Selamad pagi (pronounced selamat pagi) – Good morning
Selamad siang (pronounced selamat siung, emphasis on the -ung) – Good day/afternoon
Catherine has also been helping me get all the workers’ names down. I think I’ve got most of them: Putu is the guy in the kitchen. The guys in the garden are Gede, Kadek (pronounced Kede), Fendi and Lana. Then there’s the head cleaning worker and the one who takes care of the money, Kenti. She speaks the best English. There are two women in the kitchen but I can’t remember their names. One speaks English and one doesn’t.Nata is the young man who helps cleaning and who is studying to be a lawyer. Then there is this sweet old woman who sweeps named Wayan. Her back looks permanently hunched from years and years of bending over in labor. She has a toothy smile and she greets me by slightly bowing her head.
While we are gardening, Catherine tells me how there were only 10 names or so that are used to name Balinese people, boy or girl. The first child is named Wayan, Putu or Gede, the second Made or Kadek, the third Nyoman or Komang, the fourth Ketut. After the fourth child, it starts over. Of course there are other names, or nicknames, to help discern between them. But it really is interesting how it works this way in Balinese culture. I couldn’t imagine knowing so many people with the same name as me in one community.
A lot of the yoga people are either late or don’t show up for dinner tonight. But this gives me the chance to talk and get to know the girls who do show up. Some share funny stories from college. And then some of us talk about what we went to school for. It’s crazy how so many of us have graduated but have troubles finding a real job and are living with our parents. Or some are going to grad school. One of the girls, Simone, was also an English major and went back to school for her PhD in Creative Writing. The other girls have really good things to say about her. She’s apparently very talented. For one of the closing ceremonies they had, she wrote a beautiful fortune for every person in the group and each one was customized for that particular person. We talk about the possibility of having a little creative writing class at Jiwa Damai, with Simone giving us the prompts. We also discuss books. I explain that I’ve had trouble finding a book to enjoy since graduating college. One of the girls swears to me that I would love Just Kids by Patti Smith [funny thing, I read this book 6 months later and it’s now one of my favorite books].
While I help clean up dinner I talk to Putu for a little. So far he’s one of the least shy of the Balinese workers. He just struck up a conversation with me. He tells me to be careful of pick-pocketers, but then he tells me how it is very peaceful in Bali. In Balinese culture families go to the temple and pray to their gods every day. They put trust in these gods: if they’re poor, they’re poor, and they just accept it. It’s an amazing perception on life. More cultures should think this way. It seems to be a little in sync with the zen way of living. To just be. Once again, another goal for me while I’m at Jiwa Damai. To just accept things as they are and be.
Before Putu heads home, I ask him how to say goodnight in Balinese. He says good evening is selamad malam (sounds like selemat madam) and goodnight is selamad tedur (except for the “r” almost falls silent into a roll; I can’t roll my r’s so I had trouble saying this one. I’ll get it in time.) I also find out that the woman in the kitchen with long hair who speaks English is called Made.
While Catherine, Max and I walk to our rooms to go to bed, Catherine looks up at the clear, starry sky and says, “Isn’t the sky beautiful?” And I realize I kind of love it here.
