I am sitting in the stunning, airy bar of my gorgeous Balinese hotel and I am sweating … a lot. I’ve just had a ten-minute walk, the slow, meandering kind, but it has still taken its toll in the sticky, humid weather. There is a delicate balance here between freshly showered and breaking out in a full, glorious dancer’s sweat and I am hoping to find it. Like the heroine of Eat, Pray, Love, I have come to Bali searching for balance.
It’s a challenge, because I am not exactly here on vacation. My partner Greg and I lead spiritual tours to sacred sites around the world, and Bali is high on many people’s lists. So we are working. Managing a group of thirty-five American travelers, to be exact. This is not as hard as it sounds, if you take into consideration the group dynamic of “one mind.” I never thought I would want to travel with a group until I first took a spiritual tour myself. But when I did I understood the tremendous power of shared intention.
We are traveling in Bali for two weeks, visiting temples almost every day. The emphasis is on pilgrimage, yes, but also on poolgrimage, its sister, spagrimage, and their close cousin, shopgrimage. At least the group is balanced. Our little band of Americans is made up of some real sports. They have bought their temple clothes—the sarong, sash, white shirt, and (for the men) headdress—indicating the devout intentions of a Balinese worshipper. They go to the temples and learn how to pray like the Balinese Hindus. They clasp their hands in Namaste (not unlike our good old-fashioned American “prayer hands”) and hold them up—first to their foreheads, for the gods, then to their hearts, for our human selves. They wash their faces in incense smoke, toss flower petals in the air, and tuck them behind their ears. They eat uncooked grains of rice (to suppress base desires) and are doused with holy water by “Pamungku,” the Balinese priests who accept our offerings and lead us in prayer. For two weeks, they give their lives over to the search for something greater.
Of course it’s not all the earnest work of devotion. We are staying at the Maya Ubud, and a more integrated balance between luxurious four-star service and raw nature I cannot imagine. The whole property is a lush tropical garden, set among the rice paddies of Ubud, itself the artistic heart of Bali. The lawns are well-manicured, but even the team of gardeners working seven days a week can barely hold back the jungle of local plants, huge trees, and bright colorful splashes of flowers. The Maya has a deeply organic feel from the moment you approach the front entrance, a huge thatched roof covering the open space and pavilion, which is inspired by the design of traditional Balinese “bale” and family compounds. A wooden walkway slices through flowing water to the lobby, where the soaring thatch ceiling is grounded by a circular glass floor at the center, lit from below and filled with objets d’antique from Bali’s ancient past.
