Anatomy is International

For this week, until my own house belonging to the local tattoo artist is ready, I’m staying in a pretty sick four-story house with a pool and a staff, all by myself. I call it “The hotel”, and it’s next door to Shirley and Steve. Needless to say you don’t have to pretend to be a princess under these circumstances, it actually happens without any effort. Princess so far in Bali is like back body.

I arrived in Bali with more books than clothes. One of my main agendas while here is to dive ever deeper into the experiential anatomy of Body Mind Centering that I started exploring a few months ago under Chloe Chung’s guidance. I’m so obsessed I think I talked about it with my seat mate from LA to Taipei, and my seat mate from Taipei to Denpensar. Not the entire way, that would be ludicrous, but intermittently as it organically arose.

My first full day in the “The hotel” lying in the bale with my books, I took a study break to pop into a headstand- mostly to try to feel the direction of the lymphatic system in sirsana (you understand). When I came down, Iluh, one of the house staff was smiling and staring at me, “So good,” she clapped.

I invited her over, offering to spot her in a headstand. She protested. But she was entranced by my Netter’s anatomy book. We spent about half an hour flipping through the pages and I explained to her through English and pantomime ( her English is very basic but way better than my Indonesian) what I’m studying. I could see through her eyes she got it, not only got it, but knows it.

When we got to the pineal gland conversation, Iluh went off.

“I feel, I feel, sometimes I feel this one and everything so BIG, “ here she clutches her head then her heart with watery eyes.

“I don’t know what to do…” she says, overwhelmed.

“It’s normal,” I say, “It’s beautiful and perfect, spirit in humans.”

She takes me in with such love in her eyes. Her heart is huge.

“You such good teacher…” she says.

“You good student, “ I say.

“This one, “ she says, patting the top of her head, “Sometimes when I go to temple…” she gasps, again in awe.

I tell her about the ancient Egyptions, and the Buddha’s enlightenment flame, and point to the crown adornments on top of every thatched roof around us, and say, we’ve always known, it is what it is to be human.

Again, minutes of taking each other in without words.

“My words, my English not so good, “ she says.

“We’re communicating without words, “ I tell her.

She nods, and we hug. She invites me to one day go to temple with her. I can’t wait.