I've opened the curtain of my east window here above the computer, and I sit now in a holy theater before a sky-blue stage. A little cloud above the neighbor's trees resembles Jimmy Durante's nose for a while, then becomes amorphous as it slips on north. Other clouds follow, big and little and tiny on their march toward whereness. Wisps of them lead or droop because there must always be leading and drooping.
The trees seem to laugh at the clouds while yet reaching for them with swaying branches. Trees must think that they are real, rooted, somebody, and that perhaps the clouds are only tickled water which sometimes blocks their sun. But trees are clouds, too, of green leaves—clouds that only move a little. Trees grow and change and dissipate like their airborne cousins.
And what am I but a cloud of thoughts and feelings and aspirations? Don't I put out tentative mists here and there? Don't I occasionally appear to other people as a ridiculous shape of thoughts without my intending to? Don't I drift toward the north when I feel the breezes of love and the warmth of compassion?
If clouds are beings, and beings are clouds, are we not all well advised to drift, to feel the wind tucking us in here and plucking us out there? Are we such rock-hard bodily lumps as we imagine?
Drift, let me. Sing to the sky, will I. One in many, are we. Let us breathe the breeze and find therein our roots in the spirit.
Wayan Nuriyasih is, like Ketut Liyer, a Balinese healer. There are some differences between them, though. He's elderly and male; she's a woman in her late thirties. He's more of a priestly figure, somewhat more mystical, while Wayan is a hands-on doctor, mixing herbs and medications in her own shop and taking care of patients right there on the premises. 奴里亚西大姐(WayanNuriyasih)和老四赖爷一样，是巴厘治疗师。不过他们有些不同。一位是老头子，一位是年近四十的女人;赖爷是僧侣般的人物，具有神秘色彩，大姐则是具有实务经验的医师，在自己店里调配草药，并照料病患。 Wayan has a little storefront shop in the center of Ubud called "Traditional Balinese Healing Center." I'd ridden my bike past it many times on my way down to Ketut's, noticing it because of all the potted plants outside the place, and because of the blackboard with the curious handwritten advertisement for the "Multivitamin Lunch Special." But I'd never gone into the place before my knee got messed up. After Ketut sent me to find a doctor, though, I remembered the shop and came by on my bicycle, hoping somebody there might be able to help me deal with the infection. 大姐在乌布中心有个店面，名为"巴厘传统医疗中心"。我骑车去赖爷家途中多次路过;之所以留意到这家店，是因为店外摆满盆栽，并刊登"多种维他命午间特餐"的手写告示。但在膝盖受感染前，我未曾去过这个地方。然而赖爷要我去看医生时，我想起这家店，于是骑车过来，希望有人帮我处理感染问题。 Wayan's place is a very small medical clinic and home and restaurant all at the same time. Downstairs there's a tiny kitchen and a modest public eating area with three tables and few chairs. Upstairs there's a private area where Wayan gives massages and treatments. There's one dark bedroom in the back.大姐的店铺是小型诊所，并兼住家与餐馆。楼下有个小厨房，还有个不太大的公众用餐处，摆了三张桌子和几把椅子。楼上是大姐给病患按摩、治疗的专用区，后方则有间阴暗的卧室。 I limped into the shop with my sore knee and introduced myself to Wayan the healer—a strikingly attractive Balinese woman with a wide smile and shiny black hair down to her waist. There were two shy young girls hiding behind her in the kitchen who smiled when I waved to them, then ducked away again. I showed Wayan my infected wound and asked if she could help. Soon Wayan had water and herbs boiling up on the stove, and was making me drink jamu—traditional Indonesian homemade medicinal concoctions. She placed hot green leaves on my knee and it started to feel better immediately. 膝盖疼痛的我一拐一拐地走进店里，把自己介绍给治疗师大姐——一位风采迷人的巴厘岛女子，笑容可掬，亮丽的黑发长及腰间。两名小女孩躲在她身后的厨房里，我朝她们挥手，她们露出笑容，而后又躲进去。我让大姐看了一下感染的伤口，问她能否帮忙。不久，大姐将水和药草搁在炉上煮，让我喝"佳木"(jamu)汤剂——巴厘岛传统自制药汤。她拿温热的绿叶敷在我的膝盖上。我马上开始感到好转。 We got to talking. Her English was excellent. Because she is Balinese, she immediately asked me the three standard introductory questions—Where are you going today? Where are you coming from? Are you married? 我们谈起话来。她的英语讲得很好。她是巴厘岛人，于是立即问我三个标准问题——"你今天要去哪里?"，"你从哪里来?"，"你结婚了吗?"