A Time Of Miracles – Catching The Magical Moments
Of Christmas
It’s nearly Christmas, and Idul Fitri the Moslem celebration,
too. Felicitations to you all! No doubt you will
be busy with preparations. I hope you find a meaningful
and stress-free way to celebrate.
I say this because Christmas in London always seemed so manic
– rushing around in present-buying frenzy, making complicated
cakes with marzipan and royal icing, which took weeks to complete,
and of course, Christmas pudding. I used to make the
latter in large quantities in a huge earthenware bread crock.
It was a delicious combination of spices and flavours –
cinnamon, mixed spice, rich dark treacle, brandy, nuts, raisins
and other fruits. I enjoyed the preparation very much,
though somehow, Christmas day itself always seemed to be over
in a flash. Like many UK families we stayed at home,
and focused on the giving and sharing of a family celebration.
I always managed to discover a few mystical moments though,
amongst the busy-ness and merry-making. Often these
were solitary ones – a quiet moment looking out of the
darkened windows into the silent stillness of the snowy garden.
The serenity and beauty was so lovely. Or lying on the
floor in the dark, enjoying the twinkling white lights of
the Christmas tree and the delicious drifting scent ofpine.
Or seeing a child light up as she dressed in the angel costume
I’d made (rather successful big wings of paper maché
with cream and gold paint). She looked a picture.
My other favourite Christmas memory is of my grandfather (on
my Mother’s side). A very tall man with enormous
hands, his name was Major. In the army, he was a sergeant,
so his title was ‘Sergeant Major’. This
always makes me laugh – I don’t know why!
(Bit like ‘Major Major’ in Catch 22!)
Anyway, Major combined a strict ‘Victorian’ era
formality with a wacky sense of humour. At Christmas
he would appear from behind doors or pop up unexpectedly from
behind the settee wearing any number of outrageous rubber
masks, baldy headpieces complete with fluffy hair whisps,
false noses and ridiculous hats. He usually ended up
rolling on the floor with my uncle, helpless with laughter
(and us not far behind…)
Major also organised massively complicated party games which
we all enjoyed immensely. My favourite involved many
many small slips of paper being littered all over the house,
covering every conceivable fireplace, mantel, table, chair
arm, stair, shelf, and so on. Grandad would sit at a
little table, and hand out a single card to each of us.
The card would have half of a well known English saying on
it (such as ‘As quiet as a …’ (mouse) or
‘as black as…’ (soot) without the
answers of course. And our job was to tear around the
house like loons, looking for ‘the other half’’
of our saying, and then tearing back to get another one to
do.
I suppose this is what you might call an ‘English parlour
game’ which is where perhaps, us Brits get to forget
about the formal ‘stiff upper lip’ part of our
national identity and give rein to the ‘Monty Python’
style silly humour which is it’s natural corollary!
It certainly worked and we had a mad and marvellous time rushing
crazily from room to room, bumping into each other, giggling,
and all the time, Grandad keeping track of his list, and licking
his stubby pencil studiously as he noted down our triumphs.
What a lovely gift grandad gave us – his time and imagination,
creating such a lot of pleasure.
Jeli’s Xmas Hint
This Christmas, Jeli Lala’s Christmas Hint is something
light-hearted and great fun. Use it as an ‘ice-breaker’
to get everyone connecting. And as you can easily include
everyone, it can help you bridge cultural boundaries and age
differences too!
It’s called ‘Pass the Parcel’ and you may
know it from childhood parties.
To make your parcel, you simply buy a bunch of small, inexpensive,
silly little presents and sweeties, and wrap them up in many
layers of newspaper. (You can re-use old wrapping paper if
you have it.)
You should make about twenty to thirty layers, with the presents
dotted in between so that they fall out when the layers come
off. Have this ready in advance.
Then, to play, station someone by the stereo and ask them
to control the music. Ask your guests to sit in a circle.
When the music starts, the parcel is passed around the circle,
from one person to the next.
When the music stops (at random - though the ‘music
monitor’ has been known to peek to make sure everyone
gets a go!) the person who is holding the parcel at that moment,
gets to RRRIP IT OPEN!!
They keep ripping until the music starts again - when they
must stop and pass the parcel on. They can keep any
presents they discover.
Mystical Greetings Card, from a selection of cards
and gift-wraps available from Ashram.
This is a great opener for parties (children or grown-ups)
and is a lovely way to share the fun bit of present opening
- the ripping and the discovery of what’s inside - without
the hassle of major shopping and great expenditure.
It’s a very nice way to share the ‘present opening
experience’ with a group of friends, and with people
from other cultures, too, without making them feel awkward
because they may not be able to buy YOU a present.
Grandad’s special variation: Include lots of tightly
tied string at intervals in your parcel, and make the revellers
don silly hat, scarf and gloves before attempting to open
the parcel with a knife and fork.
A great leveller – hope you enjoy it, and compliments
of the season to you, too!
Rocks falling from the sky – a modern miracle in Bali
Here’s a true story about miracles to tell around your
campfire during the festive season.
Not long after I first came to Bali, my husband, Putu S. took
me on an unusual expedition to witness a ‘supernatural
phenomenon’. How exciting! ‘Come
on!’ he said, and whizzed me off on his motorbike down
dusty bumpy potholed streets, his long black wiggly hair whipping
my face, and me trying unsuccessfully to keep the dust out
of my eyes (and contact lenses). Every now and then
he would turn round and give me a broad grin, making sure
I was ok on the bumps (I had a bump of my own at the time
as I was pregnant with our daughter, Cahya).
Anyway, we soon came to a nearby village in Gianyar, close
to Ubud. There we found an ordinary looking Balinese
house. The high metal entrance gates were blockaded
with planks of wood, and the inhabitants could be seen peering
cautiously from inner windows. Many sightseers were
hanging around aimlessly outside. Sitting on the pavement,
looking bored, chatting nonchalantly, drinking coffee, and
smoking (waiting patiently, in the way that Balinese people
do so well – they seem almost professional at it!)
The cause of the excitement was a shower of rocks that had
been plummeting nightly from the sky onto the roof of the
unfortunate household. They were quite large boulders,
apparently (though we never got close enough to get a peep
at any). We could only join the throng and hang about
in the street outside and speculate too– not a rock
in sight!
I thought that was the end of my ‘phenomenon viewing
days’, but no, recently, on October 11th, 2001, we got
the chance to witness another one, in Tabanen to the south
west of Bali. This time we had more luck.
Miracle on a mundane afternoon
The site is approached from a narrow village road. Two or
three sickle shaped ‘umbul-umbul’ flags of yellow,
and black and white, mark a small gap in the tall hedgerow
which is the entrance to the site. It was quiet on the
Tuesday afternoon when we visited, with just a couple
of friendly villagers at the entrance.
The phenomenon had begun a few days earlier, on the previous
Saturday night at about 10.30 pm. We entered a small
grove of openly spaced trees. Only around eight to ten
sarong-clad Balinese people were in attendance, plus a couple
of visitors. A blue carpet on the ground was set for
praying, and several square metres worth of woven palm-leaf
offerings were stacked on the ground and on bamboo ‘racks’
located beneath and around the ‘phenomonen’.
After praying, we wandered around this curious place. Maybe
eight to ten large white plastic rubbish sacks had been split
open, and arranged in a kooky ‘Heath Robinson’
(mad inventor) fashion around the base of the tree.
Suspended from twigs, rope, and bits of bamboo, the rubbish
bags formed makeshift receptacles to catch water. They
reminded me of detective films showing the scene of the crime.
I half expected to see a human form outlined on the ground
in white tape. Water was dropping from the tree and
collecting in the bottom of the funnelled bags.
It never rains but it pours
This happening – a ‘raining tree’ - was
discovered when a villager in trance foretold its coming and
led the local people to the site. The ‘raining
tree’ would apparently rain water that was white, red
and yellow, symbolising the ‘tri murti’ or three-fold
manifestation of god in Balinese Hinduism – Brahma (the
creator), Wisnu (the maintainer), and Shiva (the destroyer).
The tree itself is a ‘Belalu’. Around ten
metres tall, this specimen has a smooth light grey trunk of
about thirty centimetres in diameter. The leaves
are rather like laburnum – switches of small round light-green
leaves collected together in a fern-like arrangement.
The weather conditions were overcast, and there was no rain.
Yet beneath the tree, tiny droplets of what felt like rain
were hitting my face. It felt fresh, like the ‘spitting’
that comes before clouds open and real rain comes. Yet
I couldn’t see exactly where it was coming from (nor
could I see any possible ‘fake’ origin for it).
It was not coming from a cloud and was only covering a small
area, around the tree.
Putu S. later told me he saw a large droplet of water emanating
from the bark very high up in the tree, but I missed that,
unfortunately. The water looked quite clear, mostly
yellowish with an orange tinge, with bits of what looked like
yellow catkins from the tree floating in it. We couldn’t
distinguish clear colour demarkations of white, red and yellow
– though we were told that the colours had moved around
from different areas of the tree. So maybe they got
mixed up!
What does it mean? No-one there could really tell us.
My interpretation is that it is another reminder that we need
to integrate ourselves – integrate our different ‘colours’
both in terms of our inner selves, and the different peoples
of this planet.
NEXT ISSUE: Aquarian Age II: Understanding The Prophesies:
fascinating insights from Ancient Predictions of our age.
ASHRAM of SPIRITUAL JEWELLERY & ART is at 1 Sukma St,
Tebesaya, Ubud (Oppositie Jazz Cafe). Tel: 081
239 43354. Open 10am-10pm (to 5pm Sun/Mon)
Jeli welcomes comments and may be contacted on:
Email: jelila@jelila.com
Website: www.jelila.com or www.imagine-retreats.com
