Relaxing on white sand,
swimming in crystal clear tourquoise
infested waters
feeling intense sun on your face, back,
thighs,
shadow reading pages of far east stories.
Dream Divers, small skiffs, lie at anchor
waves sail past young Europeans boys
preparing their clown flippers
floating into deep dark blue.
Mr. Fat talks about blizzards
in Chicago as waves
repeat a timeless long wash
tumbling memories.
Metta.
Someone else is writing this.
Now it is dark and I am sitting in a small private zone at Coconut. It is a raised platform with large comfortable pillows, a square table with a red and orange cotton runner. The hand carved flower vase holds two white frangipani flowers , hibiscus and bougainvillea.
The platform has a thatched roof and wooden railings on the sides. It is typical of Balinese - Lombok style. Perfect for snoozing, eating, reading. Delightful, clean simple and elegant in its simplicity.
Today's island walk was clean and peaceful. No motor vehicles, no merchants on scooters selling bread while playing a scratchy recording at ear splitting levels. No young "cowboys" hustling their 125 cc passive aggressive tendencies, such as you find on Lombok and Bali.
The day passed sitting, watching dive boats ply aquamarine blue, arching toward Lombok Strait depths. Lombok is across the way, beaches, palms, rising smoke from field burning, foothills and the rising dark blue clouds shading Mt. Rinjani and the volcano. Blue sky.
So it feels good to be sitting here in the garden. This is the University of the Garden. This blooming forth. Fragrance taken deep into lungs. A mask on the wall. Solemn eyes down, drifting. Yes, this bamboo wood-wind chime. Across the sea all blue calm, singing.
White coral bones. A dreamcatcher. Feathers.
Swimming sand castles. Blue heaven light. Reflections and strong current desires dance the water.
Wind whistles through high wavering coconut palms.
Metta.
I am beginning to upload images from the recent adventure to Gili Air is-land and Lombok. Word and image editing continues...
In summary: I sat down on Gili Air for eight days and then moved around Lombok for two. About 600-1,000 people live on Air. We should all live on air.
Meno, the next island over is quieter and Trawangan is the party island. Gili means "small island" in Sasak, the local language.
Indonesia has 13,000 islands and 1,000 languages.
Men farm, build new bungalows, fish, commute to Lombok or work in the island tourist industry. Besides rentals - maybe 350 tourists at the max with small restaurants, the water business - diving, glass bottom boat tours and snorkeling provides income.
Women work in cafe kitchens. Some sell carved coconut bracelets, necklaces and fresh mangos, papayas and pineapples on the beach. Mellow hustle.
I sat down every day near the sea. I walked around the island in 1.5 hours. Hot sun, clear blue water, strong southern coastal winds. No people. No motor vehicles. No engines. Only the music of water and sun mixed with the occasional bells from a passing horse cart.
Beaches are filled with tons of bleached out white coral. The men used to fish with dynamite killing the fish and coral.
The distant volcano at Mt. Rinjani on Lombok played inside white and gray clouds.
Every day I sat near the sea, enjoying thick Lombok coffee, reading, writing in the trusty Moleskine, made images, swam inside a clear blue water aquarium, and snorkeled with large turtles. Hello.
It was stressful. Doing my work.
If I had more time I'd make it shorter.
Metta.
A photograph, the details of life, the random constellations of objects that surround us.
A plane to an is-land. A van through high, thick luminous green jungles, see sweeping oceans, gray monkeys along the road, sand and the Lombok Strait.
Waves, sand, water. A blue and white boat. 20 minutes after riding waves, all the deep currents you land on Air is-land's beach. You take a horse-cart along a sandy path.
Fresh sea air. No motorized vehicles. Music echoes from bells suspended from the horse's neck.
Water waves and bells.
May 2009 bring you every happiness.
Metta.
The space saga continues. As I reported in my last greasy message, I lost my tool kit while trying to fix a bad joint. Ze bag is (was) worth $100,000. I am offering a reward for it's return. No questions asked. It was last reported to be floating approximately 212 miles above Earth.
Meanwhile I have been installing a new urine convertor machine on the ISS
It cost a cool $154 million bucks. Now I know in these turbulent economic times when the average planetary inhabitant is living in a shack with an outhouse, riding a bike, using candles for light, eating baloney and afraid to get sick because they have absolutely ZERO heath care insurance the cost of my toilet may seem slightly extreme.
I can justify it. Watch and listen closely. It is a miracle of technology.
It converts urine into drinking water!
Yes, that's correct. It turns urine into H2O (when it's working)...Astonishing! Amazing! Delicious! Urine on the rocks, straight up.
Why is this necessary? The ISS currently can support three living creatures. Brains on the ground would like to increase the population by three to six, requiring, according to their math genius, the necessity of having a $154 million dollar bathroom to expedite the conversion of urine into drinking water. Kinda like reverse osmosis.
Their rationale is that, with six homo sapiens on board, it will be too expensive in the long haul to transport drinking water to the ISS, so they concocted this elaborate urine-water machine. Wow!
To support their never ending research and development NASAL will be offering, for a limited time only, just in time for the holiday season, a heavily discounted stripped down modified version of their urine-water convertor to JQ public. Initial design mockups with corresponding price categories will be available by Thanksgiving.
Metta.
Share Article 