#17 What if...

What if we got it all wrong? What if our goals, ambitions, and intentions are nonsense? What if our perceptions and beliefs are flawed? What if we are mistaken in understanding what it means to be human?

And what if we can correct our misconceptions and start making things right?

Self-Love

The last couple of weeks have been hectic and taxing. I spent most of my days finding solutions and solving problems. So I decided to give back some love to my body and mind and booked a massage with a local massage therapist I was recommended.

Arriving

Upon arrival, two dogs welcomed me, barking loudly, running up and down. I wasn’t quite sure where the entrance was, so I announced myself with a general selamat pagi (good morning) and waited. A few moments later, Ibu* peeked out of the window, mumbled something, and turned away. The dogs stopped barking and trotted with their heads down towards the house.

*(“Ibu” for women and “Pak” for men are terms used as a title of respect in Bali. In Balinese culture, showing respect to older men and women, authority figures, or strangers is highly valued. Therefore, even if you know the name of the person, you would not call them by their name but refer to them as “Ibu” or “Pak.”)

I followed the narrow path and found a sign around the corner that guided me to the main entrance. I entered through a big, open wooden door and found myself inside a traditional Balinese house compound.

Traditional way to live

Traditional homes in Bali consist of separate small houses, pavilions, and a family temple. They may appear confusing and jumbled since each part serves a specific purpose and must be oriented in a particular direction. Despite having visited many traditional homes, the complex arrangements are still puzzling.

So, there I was, standing inside with no one around. I uttered selamat pagi once more and waited.

Without words

Out of nothing, someone answered my call with a simple and short pagi, and seconds later, Pak* appeared. With an upright posture and a firm yet gentle gait, he approached me and said, “this way, please.” That’s it. No introduction, no explanation. I follow.

We went to the first pavilion on the right side, where I could see two massage beds standing. Pak hands me a sarong and indicates, “you can change there.” “There” meant simply in the corner. No changing room needed.

When I was ready, he asked me to lie down and started doing his thing without further questions. Since I’ve requested to focus on my lower back, which can get tight occasionally, he began working my muscles there.

But after just a few minutes of kneading my lower back, he ignored this area completely and instead paid attention to my upper back.

Knowing without asking

During my teacher training as a classical Pilates instructor, I’ve had to learn human anatomy, including the origin and insertion of most skeletal muscles. With this background, I soon noticed that he worked systematically through the layers of my back muscles. And with confidence I have never experienced before.

I knew that he quickly noticed that there was no issue with my lower back.

For the next 30 minutes, he worked my upper back, neck, and arms. And it was painful. Very painful. But not in the usual way. It was different. And from the way he moved, gripped, held, and worked the muscles, I knew he didn’t have to ask me about my body. He knew. He felt.

He knew and felt better than I do.

Haunting

Suddenly, he asked me if it was ok to work on my head. I agreed but pointed out that I have something close to my ear that I don’t know what it is, which is very painful. “Yes, I know. It comes from here,” he remarked casually as he forcefully pressed his fingers into my neck muscles, deftly locating a tendon and rhythmically massaging my muscles.

Again, he knew much better long before I realized.

I have no idea what happened. But something did happen.

There was some cracking. Excruciating pain shot through my body. And then, slowly, everything started to feel different. I started to feel differently.

After a while, Pak asked me to sit upright, and with some final muscle beating, he ended the session with a short “finished, ya.” I stood up, strolled to my little corner where I had left my stuff, dressed, paid, and left.

What are we doing?

As I was driving through the busy streets of Canggu back home, the question, “What are we doing?” haunted me. The sight of a horde, all following an idea that entices them to trade their soul for attention, made me feel sickened.

Canggu is like any other buzzing city in the world. Loud. Crowded. Polluted. Seducing. Fake.

And as in any other big city, the natural world had to make way for a sea of concrete buildings.

I understand that many people still choose to live in cities because of the abundance of resources, opportunities, and comfort that they offer. But what kind of abundance and comfort are we talking about?

Being stuck in traffic every single day? Having a stranger breathe straight into your face in a crowded subway during rush hour? Having an abundance of fancy restaurants but not enough living space, which causes rent prices to skyrocket?

What have we done…

Feeding the monster

I’m part of the problem, as is everyone else who has traveled, consumed imported goods, or owns the latest smartphone. We’ve been conditioned to believe that success means having more today than in the past. And having more in the future than we have today.

We are led to believe that we constantly need to “upgrade”; otherwise, we are a failure.

We are privileged to have access to an incredible wealth of resources and information, allowing us to accumulate a vast amount of assets and knowledge. And as we strive towards progress, we continue to gather more and more data and information with each passing day.

But what if we are advancing in the wrong direction? What if we are heading towards information but away from wisdom?

Greed has no place in wisdom

So, what has this all to do with my experience with the Balinese man?

Well, I believe this Balinese man transformed information into wisdom.

And wisdom is all he needs.

Each of his moves is led by experience. Every touch an invitation to learn. He sees things for what they truly are rather than accepting what they are to appear. Yet, despite his knowledge, he encounters every moment with humble curiosity.

He turned strength into kindness and power into healing.

A man of wisdom doesn’t need a polished home or shiny appearance. Instead of collecting things, he deepens his understanding of them. He doesn’t sell, nor does he offer. He simply is. Doing his thing.

So, what if…

So, what if we stop chasing “things” but instead go on a quest to discover our true talents? And then we patiently practice and learn with humility. Every day.

What if we stop trying to dominate nature and instead learn to be part of it? Nature will be ok without us, but we can not live without her.

What if we stop accumulating information and instead seek wisdom?