Bali Reflections

Bali, a dream woven from ancient whispers

where life and spirit intertwine seamlessly,

infused into each moment, each step.

The veil between the worlds gossamer thin.

The island pulses with colorful reverence,

flower offerings bloom daily at thresholds of homes, temples, shops;

they rest lightly on the earth like blessings, fragile yet eternal,

as if each petal were a prayer to the gods.

Here, temples outnumber people,

Each corner a shrine,

each shrine a prayer,

a pulse of divinity through earth and air.

Faces glow with a brightness kindled by the warmth of belonging.

with the confidence that behind every person stands a village,

a community bound by invisible threads,

hands always ready to catch, to lift, to hold.

Here, demons are brought out of the shadows,

scary, twisted faces painted, carved, and externalized--

invited into the open air to keep darkness in balance with the light,

to remind us that we all carry those demons within.

Each day is shaped by hands that weave, carve, paint and plant,

making meaning from the materials of earth and spirit.

Everyone is an artist whose creations are not bound to galleries

but live in streets, temples, in every offering and stone-carved figure.

Each statue, each dance, each painting a prayer,

each gesture a brushstroke in the ever-growing mural of life.

Nature is no stranger but an ancestor, a presence

in the sway of rice fields, the rush of rivers, the splendor of mountains.

A bond nurtured by taking only what is needed

and giving back with daily offerings and prayers.

Black and white checkered cloths wrap many trees and stones,

a sacred wardrobe of guardianship and grace

that bind the seen with the unseen,

a quiet invitation for spirits to dwell.

Here, to touch earth, to touch water, is to touch the sacred,

to feel life and spirit intertwine.

Everywhere water purifies:

springs flow with holy water, silvered and clear,

cascading into pools that gather pilgrims who dip foreheads and hands.

In this place, every rite of passage is met with ceremony,

life is a procession of sacred moments, a dance of birth, love, death and rebirth.

Each step carved with care, each transition marked with reverence.

Death, the Great Departure, is not feared but met as a passage,

an extension of life’s cyclical flow.

No one walks alone--

there are ancestors in the air, spirits in the soil, family always near.

And a deep belonging that anchors the soul.

The people wear this knowledge with the certainty that they belong

to something timeless, boundless and holy.

In Bali, the mundane becomes sacred and the sacred flows freely through everything.

You feel it in the air. You see it in the smiles.

You sense it in the contentment that dwells in the heart’s connection to all things.

Life is not just lived but offered back to the universe in gratitude,

one moment, one prayer, one breath at a time.

Bali breathes in a rhythm the world has long forgotten,

a dance of balance, a song of humans in kinship with the divine

and the soil beneath their feet.

The West has learned to hunger but not to be whole,

seeking endlessly yet forgetting to touch,

trading awe for ambition.

What Bali whispers to us is simple but profound:

That beauty lies in small ceremonies,

That balance is an art,

That peace is a way of being.

If we could listen, truly listen, we might learn to soften, to see the world anew--

not as a possession but as a partner in this dance of life.

We might find the sacred waiting quietly in the everyday.

~ Alexandra Kennedy

 

The Gift of the Chilean Miners

Last night I joined millions of people all over the world as we watched the first Chilean miners emerge from their two-month ordeal deep in the earth into the arms of loved ones. Mario Sepulveda the second miner danced, hugged family and officials, and offered gifts of rocks from the mine. “I’ve been near God,” he said through a translator, “but I’ve also been near the devil. God won.”  

I’m always curious about what captures the collective imagination—and this clearly has been one of those riveting events. I am intrigued by the archetypal themes that are being played out in this drama. In Greek mythology the Greek god Hades was lord of the underworld, of death (and rebirth). It was believed that he takes us deep into the territory of the soul—it is in his realm that soul work is done. He was also the god of hidden wealth—within the Earth, within ourselves. 

For seventy days, these 33 miners lived in the dark underworld of Hades, on the edge of death, not knowing if they would ever be rescued. Separated from their communities, their families, their homes, they had to dive deep within their own psyches to find the strength to survive.

As a therapist and author specializing in grief, I’ve been struck with similarities between what these miners went through physically and what those who are grieving experience emotionally. Grieving clients often share that they feel trapped in a darkened underworld. They feel isolated from normal society. They agonize over their loss without any sense of an end in sight. Indeed those who are grieving go through a long descent stage, that I often liken to wandering in tunnels deep in the Earth—it is my job as a guide to encourage them to reach deep inside themselves to find the resources that will enable them to go on through the loneliness and depression, to face not only the chaos and uncertainty, but also their mortality. Then one day the dark passage opens, revealing a new landscape. We emerge into a new life, seeing with new eyes. We emerge from the dark passage of grief into the stream of events and the music of life, eager to live more fully, embracing all the seasons of our lives.

Last night these miners began their journey back into the world. With so many of us riveted to our computers and television sets, we watched as each miner left the womb of the mine deep in the earth and traveled in a capsule appropriately called the Phoenix through a birth canal made of rock—emerging like a newborn into the Camp of Hope. There were long shots of the hole from which the miners would emerge one at a time—so much like a birth! Even the President of Chile was heard telling one of the just emerged miners that a new life was about to start.

These men are changed, even transformed, from their underworld journey. They can never go back to who they were. I will be fascinated with what they have to share with us. Soon the world will be offering these national heroes opportunities, money, movie and book offers beyond their wildest dreams. Hades is also the god of riches. If you are willing to meet Hades in his underworld, he can bestow riches upon you.

In their return, these 33 miners bring messages to us all from Earth’s depths—at a time of deep despair in the collective, they have emerged from dark depths to cheers, hugs and celebrations all over the world. Perhaps over their long stay, the Earth has seeded in them some new vision that will help us in our collective transformation. They bring hope, a renewed appreciation of what it is to live, of life’s simple moments. Think of what it is to come to the surface of this Earth after being trapped for months in darkness. How wondrous it must be to see a blade of grass, to feel the sun on your skin, to hear the song of a bird, to hold a loved one in your arms. The 12^th miner said shortly after emerging from the capsule: “Thank God we’re alive. I know now why we’re alive.” Each one of us needs to be reminded how precious this life is, how precious this Earth is—this is the gift that the Chilean miners give us in their ordeal and return.

Our Spiritual Home on Earth

Last Sunday (the day of the solar eclipse), a group of 13 women gathered in one of their homes. We meditated and then I shared the story of writing my spiritual memoir How Did I Miss All This Before: Celebrating the Magic of Our Ordinary Lives and read some passages from the book. I started writing as a challenge—could I ever put into words the 1977 event that gave me a glimpse of my true home, turned my world upside down, and set me on the spiritual path? I continued to work on my manuscript over the next ten years, integrating into my story the challenges, epiphanies, insights, frustrations and breakthroughs that occurred as life flowed on. While I wanted to disappear upward into the light, the Divine Feminine was quietly pulling me down into my body, relationships, and every day life. She drew me to powerful places on Earth where stones, craters, mountains, trees, volcanoes and water are saturated with silence, where spiritual concepts dissolve and we can open to the truth of who we are. The Earth has so much to teach us!

As we explored what Earth teaches us in terms of trusting the flow of life, being present and resting in silent being, I asked two questions from the Reflections section at the back of my book: Are you aware of places that feel like a spiritual home for you? Are there places on this earth where you feel more fully alive?

Each woman then spoke of places where they feel attuned with all of life, relaxed, alive, places that feel like a spiritual home. They shared stories that were tender and passionate; many cried as they spoke, showing how deeply these places still touch them in their hearts. Their spiritual homes ranged from their own back yards to the land of their childhoods to mountain ranges and deserts to places in nature where healings had occurred. One woman was riveted in awe as she drove around a corner in the road—before her rose a stunning mountain range, the vision of which changed her life. Aligned with something deeply sacred (coming from both within and without), she felt alive, whole, connected to all life. She has returned to this place many times --and every time she rounds that corner she experiences the same soul-invoking response.

Flowing from such a deep place of connection to the Earth, our sharing inspired us all. I would guess that each one of us has a spiritual home on Earth, although not all of us have discovered it yet. When we do, we know it because of a feeling of being at one with all life there. It is a place that hold and nurtures us and regenerates our spirit. It is a place where we feel utterly alive.

So I ask you: Are you aware of places that feel like a spiritual home? Are there places on this Earth where you feel more fully alive?