More time in Bali
This has been my first real vacation in months. I'm sort of shocked by how much time I've spent just processing my life. I've been on a grueling schedule since June or so with travel, getting our major software release out, conference preparation, more travel. In the past two months I've had hardly any time to myself for reflection.
Now that I have the time, I realize how unhappy I've been with life back in New York.
It's sucked alternating more or less between panic, depression, and exhaustion. There have been highlights and points of rest, but little real relaxation.
I got a Balinese massage yesterday that I think rebalanced my chakras some. I stand up straighter today. I'm feeling less captive to crazy patterns of thought.
I knew this year would be a hard year. I went into it knowing it and with the intention of following through on the project I was working on.
In many depictions of Ganesh, the god of overcoming obstacles, he holds in one of his hands the broken-off end of one of his trunks. It's a symbol of self-sacrifice. Though I worry that it's an insufferably self-righteous thing to say, I found the image inspiring.
It also made me realize I sort of hate the culture I'm in/from, in which it feels ridiculous to be be inspired by a depiction of self-sacrifice. As if it's ridiculous to think there's anything worth dedicating oneself to.
I feel like an anachronism in New York. I am too serious. "Earnest" is the word. I don't work hard enough at having fun and work too hard at other things. Here, it's different. For pleasure, people go fishing. Every day is full of ceremonies. Spirituality is present, not ridiculed. Today, there was nothing more natural to me than to tell the goddess of Lake Beratan that she was beautiful at her shrine. She truly was--her breezes were so gentle and luscious I wanted to fall into them. People had come from literally all over the world just to look at her. I was moved. But where I'm from, these thoughts are madness.
Now that I have the time, I realize how unhappy I've been with life back in New York.
It's sucked alternating more or less between panic, depression, and exhaustion. There have been highlights and points of rest, but little real relaxation.
I got a Balinese massage yesterday that I think rebalanced my chakras some. I stand up straighter today. I'm feeling less captive to crazy patterns of thought.
I knew this year would be a hard year. I went into it knowing it and with the intention of following through on the project I was working on.
In many depictions of Ganesh, the god of overcoming obstacles, he holds in one of his hands the broken-off end of one of his trunks. It's a symbol of self-sacrifice. Though I worry that it's an insufferably self-righteous thing to say, I found the image inspiring.
It also made me realize I sort of hate the culture I'm in/from, in which it feels ridiculous to be be inspired by a depiction of self-sacrifice. As if it's ridiculous to think there's anything worth dedicating oneself to.
I feel like an anachronism in New York. I am too serious. "Earnest" is the word. I don't work hard enough at having fun and work too hard at other things. Here, it's different. For pleasure, people go fishing. Every day is full of ceremonies. Spirituality is present, not ridiculed. Today, there was nothing more natural to me than to tell the goddess of Lake Beratan that she was beautiful at her shrine. She truly was--her breezes were so gentle and luscious I wanted to fall into them. People had come from literally all over the world just to look at her. I was moved. But where I'm from, these thoughts are madness.