Trust your instincts. Trust your friends. These pearls of wisdom guided me safely here to the island of Bali. Back in Santa Fe, as I reflected on these chaotic times in the world, I wondered if there was a place where people could think of harmony over conflict. Traveling to Bali presented a portal, not abstract like John Malkovich’s brain, but a direct link to the answer to my question.

Tonight, a typical balmy evening in Bali, I stood outside naked to the waist, arms outstretched, in perfect alignment with the Big Dipper and the Southern Cross. I felt the universal harmonic chord resonate in perfect pitch. To the south, the sounds of farm animals and the cheerful chatter of the Balinese family preparing dinner were perfectly balanced by the sounds to the north of the waves dragging the fishermen’s boats out to sea. The promotion of fear and loathing by the governments of the United States and other Western countries had not permeated this landscape or culture. The bombing of Bali, carried out by a few Javanese extremists, had not poisoned the spring of generosity and kindness that flowed naturally from the Balinese.

Earlier in my travels, in an internet room in Pdangbai, I had a fascinating conversation with my Balinese counterpart. He was also an observer of humanity.

In his forties, he spoke of his early years as a farmer in the rice fields. Interests in the contemporary Western world brought lucrative property values, so his family decided to sell the farm. To keep in touch with the land and sea, he operates various fishing boats and enjoys doing his own fishing, as well as tending his own garden.

As we continued our conversation, I realized that this guy had a great understanding of human behavior, whether they were members of the Buddhist, Islamic, Hindu, or Judeo-Christian communities. He distinguished people as rational or irrational.

Today, he said, most Westerners and Asians still have trouble understanding each other’s cultures. The Balinese do not understand the logic behind the mutual animosity of Westerners and Muslims. Balinese spiritual philosophy determines that if there is a conflict between two parties, both parties are to blame. What a refreshing and thoughtful perspective on life, I thought.

Although my American upbringing seemed to emphasize “might makes right,” I instinctively felt that there must be a more peaceful way to alleviate aggression and potential conflict. My own philosophy of tolerance included a mixture of good Christian and Buddhist values ​​combined with the wise wisdom of contemporary writers and Hollywood scripts.

I admire Kurt Vonnegut’s redefined version of “love thy neighbor”; Understanding the realistic difficulties of loving all kinds of neighbors, Vonnegut suggests a more moderate approach, choosing to respect or be indifferent, thus minimizing conflict. This view certainly helps me mitigate road rage as I drive down Cerrillos Road.

A Bill Murray character suggests regarding those individuals who demonstrate problems with social interaction as “temporarily disengaged.”

In the town of Ubud, a Swiss named George introduced me to a gentleman highly revered by the Balinese as a spiritual leader. Chatting over a civilized cup of tea, Adipati spoke about the influence of his father, the general, who convinced him to pursue a life of conflict as a warrior, a hired gunman exploited by the Suharto government to annihilate the people of Timor. Oriental. Today, this decision still caused him great pain because he knew that his hands were stained with blood. Fortunately, his grandfather had saved his soul by reintroducing him to his spiritual roots. Many years later, his current spiritual path and status as a good role model earned him respect among the youth of Ubud.

Adipati was concerned that many young Balinese were being corrupted by the spoils of tourist dollars. This current economic downturn gave the Balinese time to reflect and return to their spirituality. However, the recession also produced idle hands, hands that worked in the fields or developed creative work. He said that the Balinese pray all the time but still hold corrupt thoughts. He went out of his way to provide a positive influence.

As we talked, I recalled an earlier encounter with a young rice farmer I met while walking down the road to Tirtagangga, a picturesque village that lies in the quiet eastern shadow of Mount Agung. He expressed his puzzlement about young Australian travelers who seek pleasure only through loud, raucous and drunken activities when their surroundings offer peaceful pleasures like star gazing, firefly watching and listening to crickets and frogs gathering in neighboring paddy fields. I said that he also enjoyed simple pleasures. His expressive satisfaction was reminiscent of a smile I’ve seen on the face of a New Mexico organic farmer I know.

In Tirtigangga, the rice farmers are great practitioners of what I call the “weeding” philosophy, or discovering one’s humility and sense of nirvana through the effort of tilling the land. I was quickly put to work clearing the weeds in preparation for the next planting. Working hard on the Champs-Élysées was good for body and soul.

Adipati went on to explain the Hindu/Buddhist philosophy. Balinese Hinduism does not have the strict caste system structure as in India. The caste system you belong to is determined solely by your lineage, not wealth. However, their caste status has little authority today, except for certain roles within the temple. One’s stature in the community is now measured by a variety of roles dissociated from their caste, including their role within the local farmers’ cooperative and other trade-related authorities.

My previous hotel host exemplified such a prominent man, a leader both in his Ubud community and head of his family. As a reluctant hero, the townspeople had recently elected him mayor, a role he lightly viewed as carrying many responsibilities.

The Balinese also have a universal understanding of the dualities of life and the balances of Nature… yin and yang, light and dark, birth and death… all the cycles of life that are in constant movement, in constant evolution.

Under Hindu/Buddhist teachings, one’s actions were responsible for one’s karma, a belief that seemed to provide a solid moral foundation.

George came back to join our conversation. George was caught up in a melodrama of his own making and asked for our advice. A dispute had developed between him and a gentleman from the Dominican Republic. For the last few nights, like two cocks joking around, they had been using an innocent woman as a mere excuse to act out their darkest inner conflicts in the bars and streets of Ubud. Both were men of idle hands, George finding a fleeting fortune through “easy” deals and the Dominican through inheritance. George certainly knew better, he had known to love a good woman and a short honest job as a milkman delivering milk with poetic notes; however, he repeatedly chose the exciting darker path to see where it led.

George, although older than us, became our son, who respected our opinions and sought our fatherly advice.

What do I say? I thought. What would Jesus do? What would Buddha do? Now for that matter, what would Emerson, Vonnegut, Bill Murray or Monty Python say? We do not approve of George’s actions. We tried to dissuade George, asking him to transcend beyond the excitement of this futile melodrama, the outcome of which could only lead to pain. Despite our solicited advice, George followed the darker path.

The next morning, I heard that the Dominican in a drunken confrontation had stabbed George. I heard that fortunately the wound was only skin deep and George would soon be released from the hospital. The “buzz” in the community was amazingly nonchalant, no ill will, just relief that the influence of the two foreigners’ bad karma had finally worn off their lives. Vonnegut and Buda had shaken hands.

Looking back at that balmy evening sky, I realized that my hands were still linked to the two twinkling polar constellations. Time to reflect. Hopefully, George had learned a valuable lesson. Our paths may depend largely on our choices. I thought of Bill Murray’s Razors Edge character saying “isn’t it easier to be a wise man on top of a mountain?”. Obviously, the real test is where you get your hands dirty, in the society of man.

As life goes on, the steady rice farmer and fisherman, like the slow and persistent tortoise…will probably win the race.