Gift Giving
I went to the hot springs this morning. Man-made pools with waterfalls are filled with hot (and sulfuric-smelling) water from natural springs. It’s a scientific fact that after sitting in said pools for about an hour your body turns to rubber and your brain...turns off. Especially when the only sounds are birds, rustling leaves, and falling water. Not even another person talking. Just nature. So today is short, and sweet.
Bali is a place of abundance. It’s sensory heaven: full of sights, smells, sounds, tastes that are so out of my ordinary life that I am quite entertained just watching the world go by. I’ve been sending some pictures to a colleague of mine back in Italy. She’s curious about the food, the people, the landscape. “So, it’s poor?” she asked in response to some of my photos.
It is poor, yes. And now with a year and a half of closed borders, there are even more signs of struggle and poverty. But it’s still a rich land. Lush, overflowing, green. Full of smiles, generosity, and abundance but not in the way we, culturally, might imagine richness.
Each morning and evening offerings are made in the form of little baskets, or cones, or plates made of banana leaf or other flat grasses. They are filled with rice, candies, incense, flowers, and sometimes even cigarettes or sodas. Every day the Balinese people give. Every day, twice a day. There is the mother temple for the island, and temples for each town, for each neighborhood, and in every home. When the pandemic hit, the response was not to hoard (ahem, won't mention names here) but to expand their family temples (new additions are inscribed with "Corona 2020"), to continue giving the little they had as offerings, and to celebrate through prayer and ceremony.
Seeing these offerings each day, and knowing that many of us are approaching the culturally conditioned time of gift-giving, my thought for you today went to to the realm of giving. We've all heard the saying, "Your presence is your present," but what if we really were able to give without expectation? What if, we really were to give ourselves this year, whether it be a silent ear, a shared meal, a hug, a written letter, or time and energy? What might be different?
When I think of gifts, I wonder what it might mean to start inside. What are your gifts? Your strengths, your passions, your skills that you can share? How can you better give parts of yourself each day, not just one day a year? What might it mean to believe in abundance, and share that belief with others? How might you better appreciate the gifts you receive each day? What are these daily gifts?
If you want an extra dose of inspiration, listen (or read) to this beautiful conversation on moving towards love and away from fear, on how to respond to cultural ideas of wellbeing. I know a love letter will come out of this inspiration, but I don't have all the pieces quite in the right place. If you listen (or read, like me) let me know what stands out.
And, finally, if you want to gift yourself time to discover, explore, and expand your own horizons, feel free to reach out to me about one-on-one coaching starting in the new year or community coaching for women that starts early January! To be able to give our best selves to others, we must first know and care for our own selves. I would love to be on this journey with you.
Wishing you a beautiful week ahead and sending lots of lusciousness from Bali.
In sunshine and rain,
Henna
PS: I'm thinking of making some changes to the love letter in 2022. Any thoughts? What you want more of? Less of? Something completely different?