Ubud, Bali, Indonesia;
“Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.” Charles Bukowski
Another yoga session saw me start today; Devie provided Hatha practice, I opened up in every way.
Feeling more relaxed but wanting to find out more, I asked her about my chakras and she sat me down on the floor.
She prodded at my feet and asked about my liver (chances were any problems stemmed from alcohol, I shivered).
But this was not the case, she never mentioned booze at all; she said to take care of my digestion, my kidneys, that’s all.
She said I had low self-esteem, I asked her how she knew this; she motioned to my solar plexus chakra and told me to try and fix this.
Taking spirituality to the numerology line, she asked about my birth date and told me I was a chakra number 9.
Apparently I vibrated on a ‘higher spiritual plane’, because there’s only 7 chakras recognised in the basics of this game.
She said my life would be fraught with problems (as if I didn’t already know), but that I was sent to fulfill a mission and in a few years time I’d grow.
Again the tears came fast and hard, I couldn’t halt the release; I knew she was right in everything she said, I’d found my soul’s true peace.
Not wanting to taint the day with emotion I had other fish to fry, so I thanked Devie for her knowledgable insight and said a fond goodbye.
The rest of Friday was a treat for me, an early birthday gift: the Ubud Village Jazz Festival I had tickets for and really couldn’t miss.
Going to any social gathering is daunting when you’re alone, and I felt a little self-conscious doubt as I entered the festival zone.
Seeing all the couples, the groups of friends, the lovers; it made me feel a little sad but of course like me there were others.
Chance so happened I pondered upon a San Franciscan lady, she was effortlessly cool and had stories to tell – a real life in her heyday.
San Fran was almost double my age but it was marvellous to see, our mutual appreciation for jazz, the music set us free.
While queueing up for free sangria another loner I met, turns out she was from SF too, and travelling was her bet.
The three of us – a newly formed trio – sat and chewed the fat, and watched some pretty impressive bands – saxophones, trumpets, pianos, all that.
A big Jazz academy from Germany played later in the night, they blew us away with their on-point timing their set was super tight.
From Indonesia, Ricad Hutapea, on the sax was crisp and clean; he introduced his wife who sang Justin Bieber – now I knew what ‘Sorry’ did mean.
It would’ve been really nice to have shared the day with someone I admired, I thought it might’ve happened at one point…alas, the chance expired.
Deciding not to fret or dwell on love’s unfortunate sorrow, I downed some Bintangs, ate some satay and couldn’t wait to come back tomorrow.
Chasing Amy-Lou 