photo courtesy of Flickr

This workshop will take place the week before the Annual Ubud Writers Festival – not to be missed.

The publishing world, in case you have not yet heard, has changed.

The time has never been better, riper, more promising for story tellers to get their tales out of their heads and into the hands of readers fast. And to make money doing so. The old publishing paradigm dinosaur is gone. Poof. Like that.

I for one say, “Thank God”.

The old way: Months and months to find an agent. Followed by more months seeking a publisher. Followed by 2 years (If you are one of the 1% chosen for publication) of line edits, book design, back and forth between editor and writer – all before ever (if ever) seeing your book in print. Followed by years of having to hit the road on your own dime to sell your own books from the trunk of your car, for a few dollars per book.

The publishing bottleneck that has developed over the past 20 years is enough to intimidate many authors from even getting started.

No more.  There is a new way.

Join us in Ubud, Bali at the “Write and Sell That Book!” workshop October 1-6, 2010 – one week before the Annual Ubud Writers Festival – and together we will learn how to use the new tools available to write our books, to promote and sell them.

Details : http://www.oneworldretreats.com/ubud_bali_yoga_retreat_robin_Joanna.php

And just in case you’re worried that all that new technological know how will give you a headache, relax. You won’t have to do anything but sit back soaking up the infamous Balinese atmosphere while Joanna Penn www.thecreativepenn shows you everything you need to know to take your place in what is rapidly developing into a new era for authors.

We’ll stay at the luxurious Kumara Sakti Resort www.oneworldretreats.com

The peaceful Kumara Sakti Resort

We’re keeping the class size small at 20 students – 5  reserved for locales.

In case you’re not convinced about the changes unfolding in the world of publishing, here are predictions for authors for 2010-2020 in an article by Jane Friedman.

http://blog.writersdigest.com/norules/2010/01/11/WhatDoesFutureHoldForWritersPredictionsFor20102020.aspx

Or you can just read my excerpts from the article below:

“Predictions are common as a new year begins–especially a new decade. And the publishing industry invites more speculation than ever, given the tremendous transformation underway.

The rise of the independent, as I expect more individual authors and small presses will be able to take advantage of the digital format to sell direct to the consumer, make a healthy living doing so and take advantage of the platform to provide more (and more unfiltered) coverage of a broader range of content, including niche and emerging topics. Just as apps have liberated bedroom coders, so too will the preponderance of ways to connect directly with readers, build a healthy fan base and enjoy higher profit margins doing so compel legions of aspiring authors to finally put pen (or is that stylus?) to (digital) paper and permanently blur the lines between amateurs and professionals. While they’ll still have a place in the industry, I suspect by that point, most agents will be, shall we say, a good less relevant than they’ve become accustomed to in the past.

—Scott Steinberg, DigitalTrends.com

Long-form text-only narrative will continue to thrive as it has since cavemen gathered around the fire, just as painting has thrived since Lascaux. The advent of more and richer iterations of multimodal entertainment and edification will not kill off others (either multi or single mode) in the future, just as they did not in the past, though they certainly will kill businesses with an overdeveloped sense of entitlement based on past success in a given mode.

—Richard Nash, publisher

Digital First/Print Maybe Deals Will Give Authors Leverage: Not only will traditional publishers enter into more ebook-first deals, but more digital publishing houses will emerge, across all genres. Because the latter will naturally start from a position of higher royalties, traditional publishers will have to up the ante as well. Right now, the trend is to decrease digital royalties, but when publishers ask authors to take new kinds of risks, publishers have to be willing to make it worthwhile for the author. Especially in a world where playing field is increasingly level.

—Kassia Krozser, Booksquare blogger

Trend: [Publishers] will continue to focus more resources on fewer titles, using their strengths as large-scale marketers and distributors to publish brand-names. Title count at the largest houses could drop by as much as fifty percent over the next five years. Counter trend: At the same time, self-publishing (including partnerships like the one announced recently between Author Solutions and Harlequin) will grow exponentially.

Trend: Title reduction will be most significant for new talent, with the largest houses entrusting support of new authors to a handful of editorial imprints. The editors at those imprints-editors with proven ability to choose new material successfully-will increase in value. Counter trend: Editors whose job is to handle existing talent will find their roles diminished.

Trend: As the initial sale becomes less of the focus for authors, the agent of the future will become more of a business manager who handles every aspect of an author’s career, overseeing the author’s online presence, developing sources of revenue outside of book sales such as workshops and lecture tours, and acting as the author’s publicist in between publications. Counter trend: Publishers will create free-standing departments whose services can be purchased a la carte by authors, whether that author is self-published or published by a competitor who doesn’t offer such services.
—Bob Miller, HarperStudio

Thanks to digital, there is no minimum length for a book anymore. Ebooks that are too short to be print books will become a real factor in ebook sales, opening up new opportunities for publishers but even more for authors. Short fiction is already well established in the romance genre and some major publishers have broken out stories from anthologies as separate items to be sold on Kindle. In 2010, authors and agents will discover that shorter-than-a-book works can be the subject of useful experimentation and learning through electronic publishing and, by the end of the year, it will become a frequently-employed device. Periodical media (newspapers and magazines) will also see this paid delivery mechanism as an alternative worth experimentation for them as well. After all, if a big publisher can unbundle a short story anthology to sell the individual stories as Kindle editons, why couldn’t The New Yorker sell the short fiction it publishes that way as well? This concept has been tipped by the announcement in 2009 than the web site Daily Beast will be delivering shorter books in a timely manner through electronic distribution.

—Mike Shatzkin, publishing futurist”

So ready to write your book and get it out into the world? Join us in Ubud, Bali the week before the Annual Ubud Writers Festival for all the tools you’ll need to get your book written, published and in the hands of as many readers as possible, fast, and actually earn money doing it.

Snag one of the 20 spots available asap and we’ll see you in Bali in October!

http://www.oneworldretreats.com/ubud_bali_yoga_retreat_robin_Joanna.php

Robin

Beautiful Bali

-Author unknown.

A vacationing American businessman standing on the pier of a quaint coastal fishing village in southern Mexico watched as a small boat with just one young Mexican fisherman pulled into the dock. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. Enjoying the warmth of the early afternoon sun, the American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish.

“How long did it take you to catch them?” the American casually asked.

“Oh, a few hours,” the Mexican fisherman replied.

“Why don’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?” the American businessman then asked.

The Mexican warmly replied, “With this I have more than enough to support my family’s needs.”

The businessman then became serious, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

Responding with a smile, the Mexican fisherman answered, “I sleep late, play with my children, watch ballgames, and take siesta with my wife. Sometimes in the evenings I take a stroll into the village to see my friends, play the guitar, sing a few songs…”

The American businessman impatiently interrupted, “Look, I have an MBA from Harvard, and I can help you to be more profitable. You can start by fishing several hours longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra money, you can buy a bigger boat. With the additional income that larger boat will bring, before long you can buy a second boat, then a third one, and so on, until you have an entire fleet of fishing boats.”

Proud of his own sharp thinking, he excitedly elaborated a grand scheme which could bring even bigger profits, “Then, instead of selling your catch to a middleman you’ll be able to sell your fish directly to the processor, or even open your own cannery. Eventually, you could control the product, processing and distribution. You could leave this tiny coastal village and move to Mexico City, or possibly even Los Angeles or New York City, where you could even further expand your enterprise.”

Having never thought of such things, the Mexican fisherman asked, “But how long will all this take?”

After a rapid mental calculation, the Harvard MBA pronounced, “Probably about 15-20 years, maybe less if you work really hard.”

“And then what, señor?” asked the fisherman.

“Why, that’s the best part!” answered the businessman with a laugh. “When the time is right, you would sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions.”

“Millions? Really? What would I do with it all?” asked the young fisherman in disbelief.

The businessman boasted, “Then you could happily retire with all the money you’ve made. You could move to a quaint coastal fishing village where you could sleep late, play with your grandchildren, watch ballgames, and take siesta with your wife. You could stroll to the village in the evenings where you could play the guitar and sing with your friends all you want.”

Well, folks, that’s exactly the point of the book I am writing about my search for a new home, a new country, a new way of being. There IS a different way to do your life and stepping off the hamster wheel is one them.

Sit quietly and figure out what you REALLY REALLY want. That’s the first most important step to achieving the life of your dreams.

Stay tuned…I’ll be posting excerpts from the book I am writing in this column.

Much love and clarity to you all.

Robin meditating, strolling through rice paddies, taking siestas, meeting with friends, and ok… writing my ass off in Bali. (and trying to figure out how to make even that flow smoothly. Suggestions anyone?)

Robin Limm, Medicine Woman and Midwife teaching us about natural medicine at the Permaculture Center in Ubud, Bali

I ran around doing a little of this, a little of that, my mind a misfiring mishmash of Should Do’s and Which One First?

I sat on the edge of a chair to hurriedly scarf down a bowl of oatmeal while simultaneously reading emails before I would run off to the organic market, and that’s when I read this and stopped.

“Best New Year’s Resolution? A ‘Stop Doing’ List”
by Jim Collins
http://ow.ly/Uivc

…It is the discipline to discard what does not fit — to cut out what might have already cost days or even years of effort — that distinguishes the truly exceptional artist and marks the ideal piece of work, be it a symphony, a novel, a painting, a company or, most important of all, a life.

This would apply to the book, I think to myself, that I am writing about my search for a country – the Leaning Towers of Pisa stacks of notes which follow me around the world, because there is just SO much information, so many stories…What can be cut out?

What is left, will be the story.

“…Suppose you woke up tomorrow,” Collins says, “and received two phone calls. The first phone call tells you that you have inherited $20 million, no strings attached. The second tells you that you have an incurable and terminal disease, and you have no more than 10 years to live. What would you do differently, and, in particular, what would you stop doing?

He suggests drawing three circles that encapsulate the following qualifiers.

1) What are you deeply passionate about?
2) What are you are genetically encoded for — what activities do you feel just “made to do”?

3) What makes economic sense — what can you make a living at?

Assess which of your activities fall within these circles. Which overlap. Drop all activities that fall outside the circles and emphasize those activities which overlap all 3 circles.

Wait, you mean I can pare down my To Do list instead of adding to it?

Almost immediately I begin to relax.

What would I do differently if I got those two phone calls?

For starters, I’d start breathing again. I would put on the brakes and flip off the ignition while I reassess.

What am I passionate about?
Travel, story telling, connecting people across cultures, learning, friends, community, family, love, spiritual evolution.


What am I genetically encoded for ?— what activities do I feel just “made to do”?
See above.


What can I make a living at?
Now there’s a tricky one. So far the accommodations business and the workshop business support me financially. But to gain credibility and maintain and grow both, I need to write a book. And so the book moves back up to the top of my To Do list.

What will I cut out in 2010?
1. Daily facebook jabberwocky.
2. Hanging out with people who do not advance my growth and love factor.
3. Doing administrative stuff which I hate and am bad at. Hire it out.Things like website maintenance, promotion, editing, home maintenance, finances, cooking and cleaning, workshop promotion and planning, travel planning, bill paying.
4. The accommodations business in Turkey…. Do I have the courage to cut out the one thing that is currently putting money in my bank account? The thing that gobble, gobble, gobbles up so much time?

What are the things that I am passionate about, that I feel I was put here to do, and that will earn a living?

Whadaya know? My list shrinks from pages and pages of scrawlings to these 4:
1. Telling stories – in books, articles, videos and live.
2. Facilitating writing workshops around the world.
3. Time with family and friends and time in my life and space in my heart for a lover. (True, time with family, friends and the lover piece are not money makers, but… wait a minute…If I just found out I inherited 20 million, isn’t the “what makes economic sense?” question irrelevant?)
4. Continue maintaining my health and fitness with daily movement, yoga alternated with weight lifting and dance. With healthy food and more sleep and daily meditation. Because without my health nothing else is possible.

What would your list of To Do’s look like if you received those 2 phone calls?

sheets of rain in Ubud, Bali

I was in the Delta grocery store in Ubud, Bali today when the rains began. Thunderously loud on the tin roof, with water leaks – and I don’t mean drip, drip, I mean streams of water, coming into the refrigerator case, over the isle of fresh fruit and coconut juice, well, everywhere. I slipped on a small water puddle on the floor and being American I pointed it out to one of the workers, expecting he would hurriedly mop it up. He shrugged and did not move. I had to laugh at myself. Something refreshing about being in a place where everything doesn’t always work as expected. Later, I was walking home through the rice paddies when I noticed a long thin green snake lying perpendicular across the narrow path. I’ve heard it’s the small green ones that are most poisonous and so I stamped my feet, dropped my helmet with a loud thud, hoping to scare it off. It too did not move…I noticed it had a frog in its jaws. And so seeing he was preoccupied, I picked up one foot to gingerly step over him. The snake (which btw looked just like a long leaf on a palm frond,) dropped the frog and raised his head to look at me, so I jumped back to wait until he had slithered away into the tall grass.

Just another day in Paradise.

A path runs through it - the rice paddies of Bali

Hope your holidays are joyous. Love, love, Robin

For today, here’s your first course in the Bali buffet, fall 2009. Lots of love to you all, Robin.

FOOD OF THE GODDESSES

One of the best things about living in Bali is the food. Food that is unprocessed, healthy, whole, organic, delicious, and cheap. Indeed, as I sit here typing, a few feet away on a palm tree hang at least a dozen coconuts, ripe for the picking ($1 if I ask Made to cut one down for me and hatchet it open in my kitchen), and to my left there are a bunch of Alice in Wonderland sized papayas dripping from a tree.

I spent my first two weeks in Bali stoking up on Indonesian food. Nasi goreng, soto ayam, gado gado. And then that was enough, and I was ready to start cooking. This is no small thing as I haven’t cooked except for the rare occasion in over 10 years. And I certainly don’t need to as warung food runs about $1 per plate and is available on every corner.

I must be nesting and manifesting a partner or dinner party friends because I am lovingly choosing items at the Organic Market twice per week, filling my refrigerator with enough for a family of 4, and cooking day after day. For me.

Dishes like banana pancakes topped with pure honey collected in the Sumbawa tropical forests from large cones found only in the highest trees. How can I best describe this sweet nectar of the Gods? Let’s just say it’s so good that I sometimes take sips directly from the jar.

Some of the other dishes I’ve whipped up for myself the past 3 days: A smoothie this morning blended with a homemade ginger/lemon/guava/soda drink purchased at the Organic Market, a splash of Jamu (a turmeric drink made by the Balinese for good health and long life), to which I added fresh cut papaya and mango, a dollop of yogurt, a teaspoon of Ashitaba (an green organic herbal powder containing vitamins and minerals too many to mention) and a teaspoon of Spirulina. A few ice cubes, blended for 2 minutes, and I’m telling you…this was one exotic creamy drink that would have elicited oohs and ahhs at any 5 star restaurant.

Yesterday’s breakfast was a bowl of fresh pineapple and banana slices topped with Bali Buddha’s crunchy, palm-sugar sweetened homemade granola (the only one better than my own) topped with a healthy spoonful of yogurt, and moistened with almond milk – the almond milk pressed fresh at Bali Buddha and delivered to me in a corked glass bottle that I will return for a refill when it is empty.

And breakfast the day before yesterday? A honey-sweetened, moist whole wheat mulberry muffin from Bali Buddha Bakery, and 3 eggs, which I whipped and folded over chopped yellow and red peppers, avocado, spinach leaves, onion, garlic and rosemary (the latter brought from Turkey).

Dinner: fresh tuna steak ($2 at Bintang market) seared medium rare with Balinese sea salt, pepper, and dribbled with sesame oil, served atop a plate full of organic greens, topped with sliced cucumbers that I had marinated in a sauce I prepared containing (all fresh & organic of course) lemon grass, garlic, chili peppers, num pla (fish) sauce, sesame oil, and mint leaves.

Dinner day before yesterday: Thai chicken soup made with minced lemon grass, tiny red peppers chopped fine, cilantro, lime juice, lime leaves (which Wayan brought me from her garden), curry, and more, with a side of organic red rice, and a plateful of assorted organic greens topped with Juice Ja’s amazing homemade ginger sesame dressing.

This afternoon, Wayan got out her trusty hatchet and hacked open a green coconut, poured the clear liquid into a large wine glass which I then gulped heartily snacking on the delectable coconut meat throughout the afternoon.

You get the idea. There’s been a self-love orgy going down in my Junglelow.

But then…
Last night, driving home on Champuan Road, I found myself inexplicably turning into the Bintang Market parking lot. I walked in and zombie-like (arms held straight out in front – OK, that part I made up) marched straight for the refrigerator case, where I pulled out a half pound carton of imported Hagaan Dazs Macademia Nut Brittle ice cream, and paid a whopping 100,000 rupiah note ($10) for, and which I disposed of at home, half that very night, creamy spoonful by creamy spoonful into one very happy mouth.

Yep.

A whole lot of good, fresh, wholesome mixed with a little bit of bad makes for one very good life.

Dinner party anyone?

Istanbul skyline at sunset

Written yesterday, July 28, 2009

ISTANBUL – I arrived at the Grand Bazaar today bearing a gift for a shopkeeper named Mehmet. We have a mutual friend, Nyoman in Ubud, Bali from whence I have recently returned. Mehmet had requested I bring him some of Nyoman’s coffee. And so I have, along with a pile of costume jewelry, all of it long in need of repair.

But how to find Mehmet’s jewelry shop out of the thousands in the world’s largest and oldest shopping mall? When my Turkish phone died in Bali so did the numbers of many friends including Mehmet’s. I called the Kybele Hotel where Ali Baba had once told me he knew Mehmet. He was on vacation, but the boy who answered the phone said, “I know Mehmet. I can tell you where he is.” “Are you sure? There must be thousands of Mehmet’s in the Grand Bazaar,” I said. “The jeweler right? He’s in the old part . Just ask for Mehmet.”

Never ceases to amaze me how the world shrinks as my travels span greater distances and time. Istanbul is a city of 20 million and the Grand Bazaar has more than 5,000 shops. One phone call and someone knows exactly where to find Mehmet.

What I think is going to be a quick drop off, an hour most – well, right. I am in Turkey where there is no such thing as a quick drop off of anything. I had planned on the requisite cup of tea before embarking on my next errand – to the PTT delivery company who was holding 3 boxes I’d shipped from Bali. But no, one hour slipped into two and then three as we sat in the back of the shop at Mehmet’s desk surrounded by dimly lit jewelry cases with glittering baubles from Nepal and Africa and Brazil. Although Mehmet rarely smiles, I could swear I saw his mouth turn up slightly when I handed over the freshly roasted coffee beans from Nyoman in Ubud, Bali. He insisted on paying.

Over the ensuing three hours, he scrutinized each piece of my broken jewelry under a light, called his shop boy and sent him off with a flurry of Turkish words. Later the shop boy would return with the like-new earring or necklace and Mehmet would hand him the next piece with instructions and we would go back to our tea and he his cigarettes. He told me about the money he has made, the customers he has had, the places he has lived, the women he has loved. And we waited.

A woman with wild blonde hair and tight jeans and heels came into the shop and looked unblinkingly at a ruby beaded set of earrings even after Mehmet told her the price was one eight hundred. I think that’s a soft way of saying one thousand eight hundred dollars. When he asked where she was from she answered Lebanon.

All this patience was making me shaky and light headed, and so I crossed the “street” to the Bedestan Cafe and Patisserie where I bit into pillow soft manti swimming in buttery yogurt. Ah… Manti – the Turkish version of spinach and cheese stuffed ravioli. I noted the larger than life portrait of Ataturk, sitting legs crossed in a chair staring down at me sternly as if to say, “If you don’t like my country, well you can just get out!” There was smoky oriental music playing. Red cushions. Dust laden light shafts through the high windows of the ancient brick arched rafters above. Huge crimson Turkish flag draped from the ceiling.

At the table next to me there were four women, 3 generations, Grandma, mom, young adult woman, and adolescent girl. They switched easily back and forth between Turkish and English.

When I finished eating, I looked up at Ataturk again, and I could swear his eyes had softened. Dapper in white pants, socks, white shoes, dark smoking jacket, the end of his red tie tucked into his while shirt. A white hanky peeking from his chest pocket. Cigarette dangling from extended hand.

Speaking of cigarettes, Turkey hardly seems like Turkey since they sewed up the last loophole on the indoor smoking ban last week. Since then, cafes have emptied out into the streets, patrons at tables and chairs on every visible piece of outdoor concrete, eating and puffing away.

Back in Mehmet’s shop, I sit down again and breathe slowly. Relax. A small muscle twitches in my left arm. This is what I am doing now. This is Turkey. Yavash, yavash.

Three hours after I arrived… “Another tea?” Mehmet says. “Well, I was thinking I’d better get going to the PTT,” I say, pulling out the receipts to show him the address. “It closes in an hour.” “Forget it,” he says. “You’ll never make it. You can go tomorrow.” Why of course. I sit back down. We drink another tea. He smokes another cigarette.

I pack the last necklace into a plastic bag. He tallies it up – 11 pieces of jewelry repaired for 44 lira, approximately $30. And he steps outside his shop to show me the way out through the maze of streets in the bazaar. We shake hands, look into each other’s eyes, and part ways. Business completed Turkish style. He has done me a big favor, and by charging me a miniscule amount of money for a load of work, he thinks he has hidden his generosity from me.

I jump onto the tram going the direction of the Topkapi stop where I’ve been told the PTT Air Delivery Depot is. It is almost 4:30. And I probably won’t make it but as long as I’m this close, I’m going to try. Elif texts me to tell me that I have another hour. When I first moved here, Elif held my hand in all these matters, but now, like a mother cat, she nudges me out of the box on my own.

I get off at the Topkapi stop, whereupon I begin playing the “ask directions game”. When lost in Turkey, you find the most alert looking person and say “(fill in the blank here)nerede?” That person then says something incomprehensible and points his finger. You say, “Tey shey kular” (thanks) and head briskly in the direction they pointed until you’re no longer sure, and so you stop to ask someone else. At least half of the people you ask, do not actually know, but they will give you an answer anyway. I suppose they figure they have a 25% chance of being correct (4 directions and all)…I’ve seen it countless times, even with each other. “I don’t know” are 3 words you will not hear in Turkey.

If you ask enough times, enough “right” directions mixed in with “wrong” ones will lead you to your desired destination. And part of the game is trying to decipher through body language and eye contact whether the person really knows. And so I ask a couple of guys as soon as I exit the tram station and they say something in Turkish and point north. I walk across an overpass for some distance, see nothing that looks like the Turkish version of a UPS warehouse, stop again to ask another guy. “Peh tey tey?” (PTT). The man points. I walk another 100 meters or so. Stop. Ask someone else, turn right, and walk through an underground bus terminal, ask again, turn right, walk back under the overpass, ask again, am told to continue going straight – I have now walked a complete half circle, and finally there it is in bright red letters: PTT.

I show my shipping receipts at a window and am directed to go to the other side of the building. Whereupon I whip out the receipts and my passport. He slowly looks them over and then sends me to window #8. I stand behind 2 guys speaking passionately in Turkish. I understand 3 words: worker, communist, and democratic. I wait. 10 minutes later the guy behind the window acknowledges me. He takes my receipts, looks through each one slowly, shuffles through the beat up boxes piled high on the shelves in the room, and returns to tell me to go to window #5. I go to window #5, and the boy brings out each box, slicing them open with a knife while 3 other employees look on to see what I have shipped to Turkey from Bali. They note the curtains all folded neatly in individual plastic wrappers, and I regret not taking them out. Will they think I am going to sell them and charge me a customs fee? They open one of the plastic bags and pull out the curtain. The air fills with the unseen but smelly mold spores of mosquito net shops in Bali. I cough and wave my hand in front of my nose. He quickly stuffs it back into the box and tapes it back together. Next window. A woman signs and stamps my receipts and tells me to go to window #1. Passport out again. He sends me to window #2 where I am told to write my name, phone number, and signature. Then I am told to take them back to window #8. That guy hands me another piece of paper and asks me to write my name, phone number, and signature again. Then he compares the two…now all of this would constitute a reasonable amount of security under ordinary circumstances, but I am the only customer left. He motions that I should return to window number 8 to retrieve my packages. They hand them over. They stack them up on the floor next to me. I say “Taxi var mah?” (Is there a taxi?) He leaves and returns with 2 men.

God bless Turkish men because they acknowledge that men are, on average, twice the size of women and refuse to let women carry heavy objects (different but equal is their M.O.). A man backs up a car up to the building and loads the boxes in back and directs me to climb into the back seat.

The call to prayer, non-syncopated rings out from all directions in the city, even on the car radio as he turns turns the key to the engine.
We pull onto the highway and I am tossed back and forth across the back seat like a pinball as he swerves and brakes from lane to lane, all along the highway to central Istanbul where I live.

From the narrow street where they park the car, temporarily blocking traffic, they carry the boxes from the car to my apartment and place them in the elevator. I thank them, give the man 20 lira, and take the elevator upstairs, drag the boxes into my apartment, look into the mirror and smile.
YES!!!

But then it occurs to me, that today has been dedicated entirely to the management and moving of my Stuff.

In the years following my divorce, I shuffled stuff between houses, gave it away, threw it away, and paid rent to store what was left, only to find myself collecting Stuff all over again in my next location.

True it is not the Stuff that most Americans collect – i.e the car and house in the suburbs and all that goes with them, but ethnic Stuff, mostly textiles and handmade items that remind me of the heart and soul of the places in which I have lived and loved. I not only buy Stuff I want to have with me, but gifts for others. What I can’t Stuff into my luggage, I ship. Or I convince family and friends to store the Stuff I leave behind.

Just last weekend my sister and brother-in-law in California drove to Oakland to retrieve an antique wedding chest I bought in Maine 20 years ago from a friend who had stored it but was now moving. It was one of the few pieces of furniture I hung onto. Little did I know I’d end up living one island over (Bali) from the island where the chest had originally come from (Java).

Turkish carpets – I purchased several when I first visited Turkey in 1997 and again in 2005, and had them shipped to San Francisco where I lived at that time. Only to bring them back to Turkey several years later when I moved to Istanbul.

How could I not buy the $4 per panel curtains in Bali last month to put in my apartments – major stuff also known as dwellings I’ve collected in Istanbul. And mosquito nets? Nary a one to be found in Turkey and they are on every corner in Indonesia. As I drag it all into my apartment, I wonder what I am doing. Because in the past 3 weeks, I have decided that Bali will be my winter home.

So why not just pack up and move to Bali now? Guess. It’s a matter of what to do with my Stuff. The weightiest being four apartments (I have a vacation rental business) and the furniture in them. And to think I lost sleep last night worrying about whether or not I should add a fifth. I am creating two homes – one in the city and one in the country – a dream come true, but one that requires doubling up on Stuff.

I wrote a friend on Facebook today, “Time is valuable. Every time I take on a new apartment in Istanbul, I resign a chunk of me here.”

Meanwhile, while I’ve been in Turkey managing my Stuff, friends in Bali are taking a Nityama tantra workshop and Italian friends have just disembarked from a sailing excursion off the coast of Croatia. I couldn’t be there for either because I had…well, you know…Stuff to take care of.

What would it feel like to be free? Without the weight of all my Stuff, what would hold me down? Who might I be without my Stuff?

I am a Bedouin with a stuff addiction.

OK, so here goes. Starting now I am going to begin weaning myself off Stuff. And I am going to replace it with something more light weight. Memories.

How could I not read The Bali Times today with a headline like that?

As it turns out, the mention of a brothel was a largely irrelevant bit in a story about commercial development in a national park and the subsequent disappearance of 600 orangutans. Serious stuff.

I admit, I was hoping for something more colorful.

I scanned the paper and I got it.

More headlines:

Egg-Laden Motorbike in Scrambled Calamity “Eminent chicken-egg wholesaler Ketut Tutek lost all 2,836 ovums aboard his motorcycle (converted perambulator) when his journey was arrested…by a rare wind sheer that sent him spralling into a acrenous pothole….’With the thrashing about of Tutek in the hole and the heat of the midday sun, it quickly turned into a large omelette that was enjoyed by all,’ he said.”

Villagers in Mass Rat Hunt – “Villagers in Kuwum…successfully killed over 1,000 rats in a mass hunt last Friday, an official said…”

Unpaid Bills Leave Bali Aussies Stranded

Bar in Brawl “A bar started a brawl on Wednesday night, street beggars reported. A local vagrant said she understood the bar was “upset at having become a venue for tattooed louts and was feeling unloved.”

Expat, Living Locally, Has Smug Thought

and my personal favorite:
Facebook Users Clinically Braindead: Study “”Researchers concluded that following a survey of postings on the popular website, there was ‘little or no brain activity,’ the peer-reviewed study conducted by Harvard University’s Internet Department for Social Sciences said. ‘It is clear that with the sheer volume of gibberish and drivel posted on Facebook, there is a vast chasm of intelligent thought,’ the study’s lead author, Dr. Hamish Barnicle, said.”

Vowing to read more newspapers,

Robin in Bali

traffic on Dewisita Drive; Ubud, Bali

A few photos from the Island of the Gods, 2008-2009.

My front yard

My pool, make that OUR pool, River Ayung

Balian Beach Ecstatic Dance Retreat; Photo by www.rolfandkarina.com

Yoga with Katy Appleton

Balian Beach, Bali

My foot at the beach

more Balian Beach

Friends

Dead gecko in my refrigerator

More to come…
Yours truly, Robin

Photo by Marie B

surfers head for the waves at Balian Beach, Bali, Indonesia

Last night I came across Alexandra’s Goddess site. (www.mygoddesslife.com). I’d never been there before in spite of knowing Alexandra when she was in Bali. I went, curious as to how this Goddess, now living LA, had dealt publicly with the break up of her fiancee.

Amazingly enough Alexandra kept right on being a goddess, through the pain and the ensuing upheaval of her life. Her words gave me faith. She did tell the world they were splitting up and that she was in a sense “homeless”, and while not revealing the depth of her despair, she instead focused on the love she wanted to be and to draw into her life.

I latched onto her words – words of hope and trust in spite of complete lack of evidence in her life (and in mine right now!) – of what she really wanted.

From Alexandra’s blog (www.mygoddesslife.com):

Intimacy & Love
“The purpose of your intimacy is the passionate transmission of love, the rejuvenative healing of sexual energy, and the cultivation of heart through your mutual commitment to spiritual awakening.” David Dieda

This is the way I desire to move in the world!! We, as women, are powerful, we are divine and magnetic!! We have so much more power than we even know! And, we have so much more to give to our lovers!! We need to connect to this divine self, and be strong in our essence so that we can radiate love and attract the perfect partners and heal this planet. Divine love is possible! – -Alexandra.

After an hour of reading Alexandra’s blog, I checked my email. There in my in box was an email from, let’s call him, Peter. I opened it with trepidation. “Peter” was a dear friend in Bali, a man with whom something had been sparked, had begun, but then who had stopped communicating shortly before he left Bali, leaving me once again in a space of feeling abandoned, entirely unsure as to why things had ended.

I’d managed to heal my heart over the past three weeks, or had I simply begun to numb it again? I’ve tossed aside so many of the things I had adopted into my new life – little to no alcohol for example. Only healthy food, daily meditation, regular yoga classes, inspiring classes. To read his email was to risk reopening a wound.

I read it. And I was both saddened and relieved. “Peter” had karmic-ly closed his part of the deal and explained why he had stopped talking and apologized.

The heaviness I felt after reading the email was a sign that I had not processed the pain, but had simply tried to ignore it, numb it…and so as I went into my meditation this morning, I decided to be with it. The ache filled my chest and spilled out as I admitted to drawing into my life once again someone whom I had begun to open my heart to, who had then shut me out. Memories of a 20+ year marriage in which this was a recurring theme, swept over me. Through me.

The point of this blog is mirroring and attraction. Last night when I focused on Alexandra’s words of love, I drew “Peter’s” energy into my life – to make reparations to a friendship that had heated up and had then been snuffed out.

Then as I sat with the pain this morning (go through it Robin, not around it!), even before the sun was up, my phone beeped: “It is with heavy heart that I announce that “Robert” and I are splitting up”, “Ginger’s” sms said. “I am looking for a place to live …..”

That makes two now. My two closest girlfriends in Bali experiencing the ends of relationships. Hurt. Sadness. Grief.

Jeez this mirror thing is relentless and ruthless.

Whereupon I immediately sms’d “Ginger” back to tell her that she could stay in my house until I find renters…that we’d talk in an hour.

But then I had a moment of wondering, what is going on here? Is my reaction to “Ginger” what it seems on the surface? The desire to comfort a friend in pain? Or more? Is she to be the companion who is plugged into the healing arts – something I so need access to now, but have begun to feel cut off from? A practical, organized Virgo to help me wrap up the house before I leave, manage it while I am gone? A way to comfort myself by comforting her?

Or is it simpler than all that? Is “Ginger” a mirror of what I focused on this morning, the pain of a promising relationship gone sour? Am I bringing more into my life of what I wish to leave behind, i.e. sadness and the grief that comes with the sudden, inexplicable end of a relationship? Ensuing bitterness and feelings of rejection?

Jeez, I so hope not.

Then what do I want?

My Manifest-o
I am creating a life of peace. Joy. Beauty. Growth. Expansion. Love, Love, and more Love. Between friends, and with a soul mate. Financial prosperity. Freedom. Laughter. Understanding. Kindness and compassion. Exploration. Wonder.

I, Robin Sparks, personify beauty, light, radiance, inspiration, love, awakening, aware, alive, fit, vital, vigorous, wonder-filled, sexually vibrant, peaceful, receptive. Self-loving.

I am manifesting a loving companion with whom I am awakening into life. Growing together spiritually and experimenting with a depth of love unknown to either of us. Commitment. Communication that is open, fearless, kind, all-loving.

I am creating organization and order in my life and affairs as I prepare for my upcoming move from Bali to Istanbul: Debts paid off, bills organized and paid in a timely manner. Business run in a way that is beneficial to all and creates financial prosperity and freedom.

I am creative and productive: My experiences poured daily back out into the world from Spirit onto page and into a book that speaks to many. A speaking and teaching career.

I am committed to a regular spiritual practice that serves as a foundation, a spring board for growth and maturity and love to grow.

I nourish myself day to day, moment to moment with friends, events, food, experiences, quiet time, ideas and words of wisdom which nourish me.

What about “Ginger”? I have a new beautiful home. Of course I will share it with her. And rather than fear that I am drawing more of my shadow, I will act in complete trust that as I focus on what I want, that those are the qualities I will attract – and share with those whom I draw into my life.

And so, it is with a light trusting heart that I sign off on this journal this morning. And a heart full of gratitude,
Robin

On all of these accounts, the festival was an gargantuan success.

Sunday, the last day of the festival was a free day, open to families, and anyone who wanted to join, and join they did. Musicians to play together, yoginis to teach together, the community to co-mingle with visiting foreigners. It was the embodiment of Indonesia’s proclaimed mission – Unity in Diversity.

Sunday night jam session

Akim Funk Buddha

Jam session

Rocky Duwani moves his performance into the crowd