In 1956, the year of Disneyland Dream*
the neighborhood was our social center
we roamed the backyards in little groups
our Mothers called us home for dinner
we played Red Rover and Red Light,
did our homework,
played Clue and Monopoly
watched Mickey Mouse Club, and Leave it to Beaver
time felt spacious and organically unfolding

Now two weeks here in Rungan Sari
culture shock, like an earthquake,
has settled into small rumblings
and I’m reminded of 1956
though I’m an adult now

everything in my entire world has been challenged
cold dry to hot humid, snowy to rainy
weather controlled amount of energy
to natural hot humid amount of energy
maybe 30% less
language confidence to language incompetence
professional competence to professional beginner
incessant pressure of too many things to do
to sureness that there is plenty of time to do
the things that MUST be done
life of constant movement and travel
to life in the neighborhood
where everyone I know is a few minutes walk away
life of planned activities
to one where things kind of happen
mono culture of Boulder
to culture of people from 15 countries
from spiritually diverse
to spiritually embedded
political American angst
to casual global conversations
great food variety to
rice as the staple food

no wonder my body had a terrible fit
of confusion and rebellion
now…what a miracle…
feeling well enough adjusted
got a few “tricks”
1. afterschool nap
2. prickly heat powder
3. lots of water
4. glasses of “pocari sweat” (electrolyte replenishment)
5. wear a wet towel around my neck
(Roommate, Doug gave me one that holds a lot of water
and doesn’t drip!)
6. sit under the ceiling fan
7. occasional treats of a few hours of a.c. in the bedroom
8. go out as little as possible from 10-4
9. go swimming at 4
10. relax and don’t fight it…just sweat

I teach only from 1-3 hours per day!
feels like a full time job
preparing and then resting
I’m loving my children
and will tell you about them
soon

Here I am not a therapist or a Hakomi Trainer
or a founder and director of Right Use of Power Institute
I am a friendly person, a teacher, a wife, an American, a Subud member

the pace is slower, time is more spacious,
pleasures and plans are simpler,
ambitions and expectations are scaled down,
the social world is smaller, the global world bigger

As I write now, the whir of the fan
suddenly stops, silence settles
it is 4:15 and the compound rests
for a few minutes while they
switch over to the generator for the evening
now the fan starts up again
stronger on the generator

*Disneyland Dream is the now national award-wining home movie my father made in 1956 of our family’s trip to Disneyland.

I would be remiss
not to talk about extreme adjustment challenges

google it…it’s an actual medical term
“heat exhaustion”
most experienced by the elderly
and those who have come from a cold
to a warm climate….
that would be me
67 is elderly in a country where
69 is the life expectancy

there are a weird variety of symptoms
all quite unpleasant
skin feeling like it is sunburned, but it’s not,
periodic intense heat in parts of your body like back, neck, torso
but there’s no fever
sudden vomiting, nausea after being outside, headache,
diarrhea, exhaustion, weakness, slight vertigo and
frightening emotional fragility

I’m happy to report that Ren isn’t suffering from this
but I certainly am
The Indonesians say “Oh that’s just the adjustment disease.”
or they say, “Coming here brings out all kinds of nasty spiritis (jinn).”
or “Everyone gets this.”
“Takes about a week to feel better. Take it easy.”
they smile in a kind, friendly way that doesn’t really help

After several dramatically miserable days
we decide to go to the doctor in Palangkyaraya
one hour ride to town in the BCU School van
one hour in which a stop for a physical emergency
from one end or the other
would result in a traffic disaster
physical tension then mixed with the fascination of the sights
houses on stilts, people on porches,
small roadside shops (warung)
traffic weave of families on motorbikes, big trucks, cars

ah, we’re here
just another warung along the road
Doktor sign
tiny pharmacy in front
behind, a row of chairs against the wall
maybe 20 almost all filled
babies, children, elders, adults
we have an appointment
and are seen immediately
is this a privilege reserved for the rich?
we don’t know
the Dokter greets us and invites us
into her office
a little square room just big enough
for desk, two chairs, and an examination table
Dokter Ina, the woman all the Rungan Sari folk go to
kind, patient
between Ren’s Indonesian and her English
she understands the problem
examines me
blood pressure low she announces solemnly
as we sit talking the lights go out
without skipping a word
she reaches up and flips on a battery light
gives prescriptions to take for nausea, fever,
replenishing electrolytes, and for the “stomach bug”
“Come back if you need to. Nice to meet you.
Get these up front. I explain in English.”
The exact number of pills are delivered
in litle plastic bags
the process slowed only by several bouts of lost electricity
no battery lamp in the pharmacy
The bill is $17.00 for Dokter and med combined

we race to the van through a torrent of rain
getting quite wet and shivery
back at home, we collapse
as if we had just crossed the ocean
in a rowboat

[Written a week later....
the next morning I began to feel
significantly better....and today
I write this last paragraph with Cornetto in hand]

five thirty am
air is heavy
skin on my back moist
light is renewing itself
in subtle tones
birds awaken us
five or six distinct sounds–
birds busy opening the new day
seven am
half sleep
the arrival of the motorbikes
like bumblebees coming
back to the nest
the maids
the teachers
the carpenters
the gardeners
each on their own motorbike
motor bike is like the family car
Ibu Endah, the school office manager
and general magic maker
rides by on her cycle with her youngest
in front of her and the two older boys
behind

our cottage is right on the central courtyard
with soccer, volley ball, and basketball courts
the compound is a series of linked
circular roads like the Olympics symbol

half sleep
shhttt, shhtt, shttt, shttt, shhtt
the sound of sweeping
Surya, our maid, has arrived
sweeping the back patio,
sweeping the leaves from the grass
sweeping is the morning ritual
in Indonesia
sweeping the night jinn away
beginning anew
comforting

rainy season
rain doesn’t sprinkle
it comes down as if the heavens
were a shower head
strong, pelting rain
dominates the sound field
pouring off roof drains
drumming the roof tiles
like a trio of drummers gone wild
with exuberance
then, suddenly gone
silence
puddles everywhere
on the precipice of flooding
but the sandy soil sucks the water down deep

other sounds
crickets at night
ubiquitous fans everywhere
dogs barking occasionally
such deep silence
that every sound is heard and felt

SMELLS….
one distinct one
smoke
several times a day
from little brush fires
set to burn the raked up leaves
and debris
also smoke
the sweet distinctive smell
of clove spiced “kretek” cigarettes
drinking? a beer every once in a while
smoking? very prevalent

FOOD
simple school lunches
a bowl of rice
with one piece of chicken or beef or tofu
and some slivered and cooked carrots and string beans
hot sambal sauce if you want
some rice chips
water

for dinner
fried rice
fish stew
delicious
tonight Indonesian salad
peanut sauce with cold potatoes
cucumber, sprouts, hardboiled egg
I’m going to ask Surya
if I can make a little recipe booklet
of her dishes
what I miss most is cheese

Now night
walking outside
in the distance
I can hear the Muslim call to prayer
softer, sweeter than Turkey
but still eeirie
crickets send their messages
in morse code of 6s, 4s, 9s
but mostly 6s
fan drones itself into white noise
and then, with a flip of a switch
is still
revealing an even more profound
quiet
as we go to bed
swaddled in the warm, damp air

About this post:  Ren Ruslan Feldman, my husband, and I are spending 5 months as volunteer teachers in an innovative grades 1-12 school in Kalimantan (Central Borneo), Indonesia. My intention is to explore the teaching of right use of power for kids and teachers here in as many creative ways as possible. They have already made a great start at this school. This blog chronicles the experience and the learnings. It is in a simple semi-poetic form.

OUR SCHOOL

100 Indonesian children
sitting quietly on the floor
20 teachers, some volunteers,
some paid, sit on the floorbehind the students.
“Pak Ruslan, Ibu Cedar,
would you like to sit in chairs?”

The Principal, a lovely kind smart man,
Karim, begins the assembly by telling
the children that he is proud of them
and giving examples
He introduces Ren and me, saying
“I was just being born when Pak Ruslan
was getting his Ph.D.!”

Most of the teachers and all the other volunteers
are in their 20s and early 30s
and have a good time hanging out together
and are also very thoroughly prepared teachers
They are given time during the school day
do some preparatory work

The room is lit up with smiles
They sing a few songs
The children are so happy to be in this school

I am treated respectfully as an experienced teacher,
but I feel totally unclear about what to do–
winging it, you could say!
My first class is 15 surprisingly boisterous 7th graders
for social studies
Their last term’s teacher is assisting
so that she can learn more about handling the class
from ME!
Yikes. I’m an elementary school teacher
with training from 1966. I was not expecting
7th graders…boisterous around the world, I think.
To my relief, they speak remarkably good English
and we muddle along with my telling them
a few words I’m learning in Bahasa,
playing a get-to-know-you game or two

Wouldn’t you know it, I left elementary school teaching
because I couldn’t manage the discipline…
now, I get to try again

My next class is as opposite as they come
Six 6th graders who are so shy and fearful of speaking
in English that I use up my entire battery of games
and questions in the first half hour–
more winging it

I’m totally excited though
and already delighted with the children

Our maid, Surya, is very lovely
today while we were at work
she washed our clothes,
made the bed, swept the floor
did the dishes, bought us some food
and cooked a lovely dinner for us
that she left out on the counter

It is extremely hot for me
especially during the hours of 10-4
when no one goes out
At four, we go swim in the pool,
a refreshing treat.
Coolest place in the cottage
is on the screened porch under the fan
Ren is having an easier time
because he spent so many years in Hawaii

It is a wonderful, happy school
completely centered around teaching
good character, wholeness ethics,
right uses of power.

Holding Ren's hand
feeling vulnerable and tender
we look down at Borneo
from the air
vast forests, winding rivers,
and then the town of a million people
Palangkaraya...
no big skyscrapers here

we land and are met
to our delight
by Emilie, the French volunteer
who is in the internet video
(google: bcu school Indonesia video)
Emilie says: "It's eencraydeebel"
in her winsome French accent

The BCU school bus takes us
and our 100 pounds of luggage
(what 50 pounds of possessions
would you choose for 5 months in the tropics?
For me, pills and books for school
are the major items.
I'm happy to have brought
our little singing birds,
my battery powered coffee frother,
some games, and a dragon puppet.

We stop at a grocery
for some food basics
completely stop-me-in-my-tracks
overwhelmed by the food choices
mostly packaged, unknown brands,
contents labeled in Indonesian
OI!
Rupiah is the currency
8,000 R equals about a dollar

The drive from the airport
takes an hour and is an absolutely
straight road built by the Russians.
It goes all the way to the border
of Malaysia.
Compared to the traffic in Jakarta
this is tame
Rural, lush with greenery
houses of wood built on stilts,
little shops along the road
people sitting on porches
behind the roadside houses
uninhabited forest

Finally we Arrive

And then, here we are,
entering the compound
it looks just like the video!
We are taken to our cottage
lovely screened porch
nice kitchen
open air screened bath
two bedrooms
lovely

we find and greet
the beautiful, stately
spirit-of-the-place tree
and introduce ourselves
to the jin spirits
asking permission

Karim, the school principal
buzzes by to greet us on his motor bike
warm, welcoming
what a joy to finally unpack
shelves, drawers, hangers...heaven
nice dinner at the resort restaurant
and then a hard days night
We find that the bed is just a box springs
so we pile cushions from the living room
on top of the box springs
and attempt to sleep in this heap
pillows too hard
temperature sweltering
even a hard rain
doesn't cool things down
no top sheet
only a comforter
how could anyone need this?

What a roller coaster of feelings....

Like other countries
where community is primary
things happen like magic
outside the planning mode
two bottles of water
appear in our room,
the restaurant is closed
but next door a coffee shop opens,
a man walking by
invites Ren to a Subud men helpers meeting
"right now, well, after your coffee,"
a man Ren knows
invites us to his house to use the internet,
a ride is arranged for us to go to the
Subud gathering at Ibu Rihiyu's house
(the daughter of Bapak, the Subud teacher
and current International Subud leader)
that just so happens to happen
every six weeks--tonight

Everyone dressed up in their finest
a few attractively dressed covered women
Maybe 30 women, 20 men
greeting each other by
reaching out--hands interspersed
with each other and parallel,
touching and then pulling back,
very sweet feeling
matched with the Indonesian smile
that is a true heart melter

We watch a video of a talk
given by Bapak some 20 years ago,
then women's latihan (spiritual practice)
then the men's latihan
then some good food

Latihan is gentle and angelic
the Latihan hall spacious
carved posts, high beams,
gorgeous fine carpets

Reverent tour of the very fine house
where Bapak and family lived
at the time of his death
at age 86 in 1987
marble floors, blue/gray walls
grandly high ceilings

To my astonishment
we were prayerfully led
to Bapak's bedroom
every item exactly the way
it was--in 1987
except for the biggest fresh arrangement
of very fragrant flowers I have ever seen

This room with the best and most modern 1987 TV
still in the sitting room
is treated like a shrine
with people kneeling on the floor
in deep reverence
Indonesian custom for beloved teachers

Ren is glowingly happy and at home
His radiance spills over to me
But I'm, how to say this,
a bit stunned that my life has led me here
What an amazing thing

On the late night drive back to
the Subud compound
our driver shows himself
to be quite an artist
of spatial relationships
calmly, smoothly
weaving his way
sometimes only inches away
from motorcycles
never sudden braking

First Day, Jakarta

5:30 am flying in from Perth,
half awake
first views
vast green-ness
rice fields, little villages--
dots on the green carpet
linked together by lines
of roads, rivers, canals
big city buildings in a
sparkling cluster
like a fairytale castle world

Jakarta airport
marble floors
spacious
great windows looking out
on beautiful gardens
welcome--selamat datang
Indonesians in beautiful batiks

Silver Bird taxi stuffed with
our 50 kilos each
takes us through modern central city
signs have a mixture of English and
Bahasa Indonesia--
Starbucks, Nestles, Coca Cola

Suddenly
off the highway
swarms of motor cyclists
weaving in and out of the cars
all wearing helmuts
drivers of both cars and bikes
have learned the art of
weaving through space
the next ring out from the center city
takes us by smaller buildings
little streetside family shops
familiar to Turkey, Mexico, China
flimsy, messy, and rough shod
after the gleaming inner city
now bicycles and little 3 person
taxi carts on side streets

And then, an hours drive
we arrive
at Wisma Subud
Ren's face lights up
He's been here before
the original Subud Center
once alive with spiritual excitement
now still lovely
but the buildings have aged
and the energetic center
has moved to Kalimantan
where we will live

The shift to this new cultural environment
is challenging not just by lack of sleep
I am busy listening to the language
happy that I can relax because
Ren speaks fluently
Quiet, gentle, smooth. lilting language
I can already pick out words
I have book-studied
My first sentence:
Saya mau kopi dan jalang jalang.
(I would like some coffee and a walk.)

Ren talks with people he remembers
from past trips. He is happy.
I feel like a puzzle just poured out of the box
We find our room in the guest house
It has blessed air conditioning
We sleep for two hours
I cannot seem to connect the pieces of me
in any way I recognize
Manage to get to the shower
Ahhh, what an integrative blessing--
water, sweet warm water

Now, for some kopi enok (coffee delicious)
Coffee with condensed milk...I like it!
Toast with chocolate and strawberry jam. Enok.
We walk around a bit
Internet off and on
Receive but cannot send
Patience and try it again is the required attitude

Tropical heat is quite remarkable
The air so heavy that
it takes more effort to move
air feels think like blood
so I lose a bit of my sense of embodiment
because the feeling inside my skin
is the same temperature and texture
as the temperature and texture
outside my skin