Pura vida, baby!: 10.10.10

Someone told me today that 10.10.10 is a very auspicious day. So I googled it to see what I would find out, revealing words like 'abundance', 'health' and 'a time for change.' For me, today was an absolute shitter of a day. My sore throat worsened into a mild fever, my mistake of leaving my bag-pack in town made me have to turn the taxi around which did indeed mean abundance for the taxi driver at my anguish of $38.80, so I'm definitely in favor of 'a time of change.' I shall attempt to finish this blog with the absence of melancholy.

The book I'm currently reading is 'Buddha or Bust,' by Perry Garfinkel. I picked a copy up while waiting to board the plane to Singapore in Bali at 150,000 rupiah. On assignment for National Geographic, Perry circumnavigates the globe to discover the heart of Buddism - very reminiscent of the RTW honeymoon/pilgrimage/adventure that has brought Amber and I to Singapore. A definite page turner, I am looking forward to sharing more of his insights.

In the events of today, I had ample opportunity to remain aware with the numerous moments of uncomfortableness and gratifications of my mind. This is what the Buddha had discovered - that all is annica (impermanent), and the transitory quality of life was one of the causes of suffering. This suffering, Dukka (suffering) is the daily indignities, disillusions and disappointments, the minute-by-minute ups and downs of ones own emotions. Being forced into proximity of what we hate is suffering, being separated from what we love is suffering, not getting what we want is suffering. Clinging to anything - hopes and dreams as well as craving for a green milk tea with bubbles - causes suffering. Being trapped in this human existence, in this physical body which I had no choice, and being predisposed to the unceasing manic nature of the mind, is the reason that today I am utterly miserable.

For instance, for lunch, Amber and I went to Bugis Junction food court. Being a sunday it was packed, and when I finally had a table in sight, I unhurriedly made my way to it. Coming from the other side, was a middle aged woman who had also spotted the very same table and was walking towards it. We arrived at the table at the same time but she didn't acknowledge me and I had to be the first to say "share." Her friend with a child promptly appeared and retorted "Four." Yielding, I saw glanced a smirk on the lady's face as I left. Feeling an all too familiar rush of blood to the head and an a simultaneous involuntary blur in my vision, I indignantly meandered off to find another place to sit. I absolutely despised the consequential way I 'thought', and felt completely powerless to change it.

Bali:
We stayed at Melia Bali in an area exclusively for tourists in Nusa Dua. We had International gourmet buffet breakfasts and Asian, Japanese and Mediterranean cuisine for dinner at exorbitant prices. The price of our two BR suite could feed a small village (maybe even a big one) for a month, and prices on everything else had $++ at the end of the figure. The amount of money spent on taxes and services charges could have covered this months home electricity bill. On wednesday, we went deeper into Bali - Ubud, to celebrate my auntie Ellen's and uncle Hulman's golden anniversary. Their 50th! It was the highlight of the trip. We rented out a very stylish restaurant that served a 6-course meal. I was only able to get this meal down because it came in small portions and with long intervals in between. I was already thoroughly satiated from the other meals.

Bali's infrastructure is in a pretty bad state (Vietnam's is appalling), and when we leave the car at the more touristy sites we are immediately swarmed with aggressive peddlers trying to sell their wares. Looking into their eyes I could see that they are literally begging for money, with their goods merely serving as a means to do so. Throughout the trip I put up an indignant front, not even wanting to look at what they are trying to sell, much less make any sort of eye contact. But I remember the lament of one particular teenage girl who stationed herself in front of a restaurant. As I walked past her disgruntled, I heard her despairingly call out from behind me "Please, just loook!" as I kept walking on, shaking off the compassionate urge to turn around and meet her anguish. Her plea still calls out to me now and again, and is most painfully heard during meditation. Millions are living in poverty, and the wealthy don't even want to look. Even right now I can already feel the inevitable inclination to shrug off the pangs of guilt as a recall the many brief reluctant encounters I had amongst the poor in Bali - "Screw them. Not my problem. The government should seriously get their act together."