When the moon is full...
As the van moved toward the mountain, rock trucks took up whatever space they needed on the side of the road. Why are they stopped there? I asked my driver... They are resting he replied. I closed my eyes and I thought of the stories of the rock trucks and drivers from my research back in Canada and abroad. The trucks here in Bali were full of lava rock used for construction of homes, foundations and roads. On the west coast of Canada we had our own volcano in the territory of the Nisga'a Nation. Growing up. I had been told not to take the lava as it was a sacred site as it held the ancestors spirits from villages that had disappeared in its flow. In India I had heard of truck drivers stopping to rest on long hauls. In part due to long hours, the other part the strain of driving on their eyes when access to glasses were hard to come by.
Pulling into the parking lot of the Mother Temple, I noticed an unreasonable amount of garbage. I asked the driver why this was... Yesterday was ceremony, he replied. We don't always have the ability to take it away like you do in your country. Here in Bali we have three problems, scooters, plastic and dogs... I remembered this story from an earlier conversation and smiled respectfully as I understood he felt some shame from the question. As we stood wrapping our sarongs around our waists the guide explained that we would get dropped off at the top of the temple and we would walk back down to the vehicle. You may want to be prepared to purchase a small offering. It's how many of the people here make a living, sitting at the temple.
Moving past family gatherings, flowers lined the street and the usual smell of
67 incense wove gently through the air. I noticed that the temple built of stone and brick also seemed to be covered with life. Small plants and bright green leaves clung to cracks and corners... How interesting I thought, that the temple is in fact facilitating life, breathing in and out as we walked by. In-between photographs and noticing, my guide said... These stairs here are only for ceremony, they are not for us. Looking up I felt uncomfortable as I watched a young woman pose for her Balinese guide. Removing her sarong and uncovering her shoulders... As I thought of the ignorance and the disrespect that she showed, the temple held her the same way it held others, with patience and respect while the families behind her on stairs also held space for her.
Walking up and down the stairs, we looked past gates and into ceremonies., the guide continued to move us through the levels of the Mother Temple. Stopping along the stone wall our guide turned to us and smiled... These stones here were broken by elephants and coconut trees. This temple is sacred because this is where the lava stopped flowing and on the night of the full moon when we hold ceremony, all are welcome to pray here despite your religion. Growing up with my own understanding of faith based in North America, I asked him, as someone who practices the Hindu religion why are you so open to other faiths and those who may not believe at all? He replied, we understand that while men made gods, God made man and God made rice, without the rice we have no life.
Walking over to the woman at the entrance of the temple selling Jackfruit, she wiped off her knife I held up my camera, I understood through my lens although she looked like she might not have money I was sure she was in fact a priestess... holding space for others, holding space for the temple.
One last time the guide turned to me and said, you feel deeply when you see people as they are.
This is your magic.
