Within my own norms too late with the blog but hey, jam karet, rubber time here. Lots to do with finishing work for a small show, it’s called intermezzo, that’s supposed to open coming Sunday. Little time for anything else. In the meantime the guys up in the sky do realize it’s the dry season so I have to water the garden every day. This morning I woke up and opened my mail. I’m glad it’s unusual but today a mail that put the day on the wrong trail. Confusion, anger, upset… everything at once. Then, at the neighbours, grandparents start to play with their grandchild. The kid cries of joy and so do the grandparents. How I, at least for a while, become disturbed by those noises is a riddle to me indeed. Hello Frank, you woke up this morning, the sun in shining and a kid has fun. Learning the same again and again, is that like a rehearsal?
Saturday was the day for the machines. Mem Par, my help, was quite loose about it, the kiln and other machines didn’t have to participate but the motorbike couldn’t do without an upacara, a ceremony. I had the bike washed, a bike also goes clean to its ceremony, and drove to the house of the Pars where the bike got blessed and a number of offerings were attached to steering wheel and headlight. Better play safe. Lots of people at the garage where they wash bikes, all clean into the new year. The owner of the place knows me and helped me unreasonably quick. Later I saw bikes with offerings everywhere. Again, better play it safe. That most drivers didn’t wear a helmet and quite some of them were eleven years of age or so is not the point. It was about the bikes, that’s what counts. Upacara’s are still all over the place, now a two-day ceremony for the house-temple, to be performed twice a year. It’s so much; I don’t follow anymore. And last week an exuberant super cremation – yes people, such a thing does exist – with an enormous tower to carry the body in and a bull of at least five meters high. The cables over the street had to be disconnected, otherwise the circus couldn’t pass by. It costs tens of thousands of Euro’s, also this time it was for someone of the Ubud royal family. According to Frans they are happy to do it, they make money with the film- and broadcasting-rights. Could very well be. Hey grandpa, we need money, what do you think…
The pool is ready and it looks great. I can hardly believe that I, I mean I, have a swimming pool in my own garden but it’s a fact. The overflow did leak a little bit the first day but that’s fixed now and yesterday I made my first swim in my own pool. As of now I’ll swim every day and I expect it will take not more than a week or three before I’m a well muscled Adonis. More after I succeed.
Zoef the dog and my mother, they have nothing in common. But still… Zoef is trying to tell me something and often I do understand, ever so often I don’t. And then – yes I agree, it’s silly – I have to think about my mother. She had aphasia and I often wondered how it was possible that I understood what she meant. Yip yip yip and, let me think for a minute… oh yes, uncle Arie has his birthday next week. No idea where I got it from, threads we don’t have to understand. Sometimes it didn’t work and then I saw despair in her eyes as she saw in mine. Despair in the eyes of your mother, that cuts deep. To think about my mother because of the dog, maybe it’s not right but I’m working on accepting she is not here anymore and maybe because of that she’s everywhere. A friend was right when he said that if your mother dies at 92 and you’re in total shambles, you didn’t prepare yourself for life. My mother was 93 and I miss her. Sadness is part of life, better give it the room it needs. (An impressive text from Islamic origin below this blog)
The partner of a journalist that published information leaked by Snowden was hold and interrogated for nine hours – someone figured that nine hours is okay without any charge – at London Heathrow. According to the police he carried life-threatening information. Funny enough they let him go after those nine hours without laying any charges. At The Guardian hard disks were destroyed, the British PM initiated that action. A Dutch minister plans using drones to keep an eye on people. Bugging, tapping, intercept emails, keep an eye on us. And I have to believe it’s all worth it. Terrorists surely are stupid enough to keep on sharing their little plans – e.g. in Jemen – over the phone and in emails. Next to the tyranny of too much big money another monster emerges; big brother. Under the pretext ‘if you don’t have anything to hide it doesn’t bother you, now does it’ we’re abused by a un-controlled mafia for whom freedom and human rights are bothersome – at least. It’s time to remember what H.M. van Randwijk wrote on a monument in Amsterdam. ‘A nation that gives in to tyrants will loose more than life and goods, the light will extinguish…’
In numerous places in the world tyrants do their destructive work, gazed at by a powerless UN and Security Council, it’s too easy to not see or underestimate the dangers in our own house. But a nation that gives in to tyrants… Governments with the vision of a calculator, bowing to multi-nationals – the creators of work – who, when it comes down it, don’t care about jobs at all. The Rabobank, a cooperation!, sees it’s profits go down a little bit and right away numbers of people are kicked out. And that is, unfortunately, nothing unique. It’s us, we ourselves, who accept these things and have our little part of the pie. The conviction that we are supporting a system, politics and economics, totally wrong is probably not popular but I can’t see it any other way.
It does happen that I criticize Bali and the way people here are dealing with things but also; come to Bali and see the pride in honest work. Discover how e.g. the builders of the pool take pride and dignity in the fact that for an honest price, enough to have a pleasant life, they made something that is good and nice to look at. Meet a smiling Pak Par who is happy with the result of his work. And compare that attitude with any multinational. A nation that gives in to tyrants will loose more than life and goods, the light will extinguish.
“This being human is a guest house. Every morning is a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor…Welcome and entertain them all. Treat each guest honorably. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”
Jalal ad-Din Rumi (Persia, now Tajikistan) 1207 – 1273