Everything here has a frequency. The pulsating fan overhead. The motorcycle engines churning fumes into the hot air of the morning. The faint smell of incense rhythmically wafting through the cafe.
I didn’t write at all for the past two days, which has left
me with the arduous task of documenting everything now. The most recent
occupation of my thoughts rests on some money that went missing from our
wallets. We don’t know if the money was taken at the hotel or at our
guest house, but both scenarios seem equally unbelievable. This bad incident has made me realize something. When I am experiencing something good I am
plagued by thoughts that it could be better, that somehow it isn’t good enough.
But when I am experiencing something bad, opposite thoughts occur. I am
grateful that things were not worse. I am overwhelmed with happiness and
appreciation. Perhaps this is life’s way of balancing us.
The sun is setting now and the café where I am writing will soon close. Dusk in Ubud is ashy. They’ll be no streaking sunsets
of violet and maroon. Instead the earth is cloaked in grey. Dusk looks like the
day sky in the midst of rain, but once
the night arrive the darkness is thick, not even street lights can penetrate
it.
With the night comes the night noises. Cries of gecko and
roosters. Our walk home on Tuesday was
signaled by a chorus of barking dogs. As we walked past the front entrance of
each family compound, a lone dog would stand under the doorway and bark at us
menacingly. They never went beyond their master’s property, never attacked us,
but stayed awake throughout the night to howl.
-Wednesday. Oct. 1, 2014 Seniman's, Ubud, Bali
-Wednesday. Oct. 1, 2014 Seniman's, Ubud, Bali
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