IN WHAT COUNTRY WERE YOU BORN?
I was
born in the U.S.A. in Milwaukee, Wisconsin Oct.28, 1936. Missed being
born on Samhain (Halloween) by 3 days because my mother induced an early labor
by attempting suicide. I never could decide later whether she was trying to
kill herself or me. At any rate we both survived. Mom left the hospital 12
hours after I was born and didn’t come home again until I was almost 4. Left
for good 4 months later.
TELL US A LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF AND YOUR
JOURNEY TO LIVE OVERSEAS.
My
grandmother, a witch in the Celtic/Anglo Saxon Earth Mother Religion raised me
for the first nine years. At about six she started having me cross-train in
Native American shamanism. At nine my father remarried – a Catholic. I wanted
to stay a pagan but they made me get baptized and go to parochial school.
Grandma advised me to keep my paganism secret but to go on being one. Now
almost 70 years later, I am still a pagan – and did you know that word comes
from the same root stock as the word ‘peasant’ and simply means ‘of the earth.’
WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THE COUNTRY IN WHICH YOU NOW LIVE?
I didn’t
choose Bali. It chose me – literally. I had invitations from two friends to
join them on their winter holidays. One was going to Costa Rica. The other
Bali. I couldn’t make up my mind which one to go to until I went to an Eostar
ritual that Spring. (Geez! This is hard. It took me a whole book to answer most
of these questions. Everything’s connected – you know?) At that ritual there
was a woman who every year brought a basket full of Eostar eggs. She didn’t dye
them, she just inscribed each with the name of a goddess. She came to me and
said,” as the grandfather you get first choice.” The egg was inscribed
Saraswati. I said, “I don’t know her.” And was told, “She’s the Balinese
Goddess of Arts and Knowledge.” I said, “Oh, I guess I’m going to Bali this
winter.”
WHEN
AND HOW DID YOU BECOME AN EXPAT?
One of
the things I always hated about dealing with agents and editors was that first
query letter where they wanted you to summarize your book in one or two
paragraphs. Answering your list of 26 questions kind of makes me feel the same
way. Want to drub my lip and say, “Blub-blub-blub.”
I started
trying to answer your questions, Clancy, but when I got to #4, I thought of Chapter 1 of my
2nd autobiographical book – “A Fool in Paradise” answers a lot of
these questions better than I can come up with 1 paragraph responses.
THE LONG WAY ROUND
Bali was never a part of my retirement plans. I always thought that if I could
afford it I would end up in Greece; holed up on an island in the Med running
skyclad in the sunshine and worshiping Mother Demeter and Aphrodite. Something
happened to that dream. Maybe the Euro made Greece too expensive on my small
pension. Maybe the cold Northern California rainy season got me to considering
the enticing tales my friends told about a paradise in South East Asia. Maybe
the magic of Bali somehow reached out all the way to America and sucked me in.
Anyhow, here I am.
Do I believe in Magic? Of course I do. My grandmother raised me for the
first nine years of my life. She was a secret witch in the old Celtic and Anglo
Saxon tradition of the Earth Mother. She taught me to believe that the
supernatural was not up there or out there, but all around us all
the time. She encouraged me to cross-train in Native American shamanism and
later I apprenticed to a Hermetic Mage and studied with a Hindu guru. Magic has
always been a part of my life .
. . . Let me qualify that. When I say ‘magic’ I am
simply talking about the miracle of life and the power of Nature and the way we
act and inter-act with both. The Harry Potter kind of miracles; and the stuff
you read about in Swords and Sorcery and Dungeons and Dragons novels is not
real and never was. Real magic, however, happens all around us all the time.
Perceiving it just requires an open state of mind and a perpetual state of
wonder. How do you perceive the happenings of the world? How often do
you just take them for granted?
My Grandmother used to say, “Today’s magic is tomorrow’s science.” Grandma was
a wise woman. “Scientists,” she told me, “think that everything is relative.
Magic people think that everything is related.” She taught me that all
the things of nature were alive and ‘thou’s’ not ‘it’s.’
Grandma died before scientists came up with the theories of a singularity and
the Big Bang. She would probably have accepted the theories, but she would have
asked the scientists, “Who made the singularity? What caused the Bang?” When I
asked her how creation happened, she told me, “Spirit and Nature got
married and gave birth to everything that is.” Maybe in a former life Grandma
was a Hindu.
For several years before I came to Bali I lived on
the South Fork of the Eel River in northern California. I had a grove of
magnificent Redwood trees in my backyard. I tutored kids; wrote some books; and
grew some dynamite smoke. I thought I would be content to stay there for the
rest of my life until one day one of my neighbors came over for a joint and
some conversation. She had just read my university thesis about Illusion and
Enchantment in ancient theatre. She said, “Bob, did you know that in Bali there
are still dancers who can fill the mask?”
That got my attention in a hurry. In my thesis I had theorized that Classical
Greek actors had filled the masks. In other words they allowed themselves to
become possessed by the energies of the God or mythological character that they
were playing. In a sense the performers became their characters by
renouncing their individuality and making an offering of their body. The mind
absorbed the attitude of Dancer/Actor and the actor reacted as an instrument -
not as a person. Academia pooh-poohed the idea. Academia shudders at the
suggestion of anything magical.
I believed what I had written about filling the mask. I knew many Native
American dancers who could do that. I had learned the technique myself when I
traveled the Red Road dancing the Eagle. My neighbor assured me that Balinese
dancers also used that technique; She said I should come to Bali with her that
winter to see for myself. I gave going there some heavy thought. All of the
students I tutored encouraged me to go. They all called me Grandpa.
I had always thought the most magical experiences in my life were the births of
my children. I doubted anything would ever match that for the feelings of love,
joy and wonder that their nativities set off in me. Then I became a
grandfather. All those emotions grew exponentially. Unfortunately my grandson’s
mother was a military wife. When he was one year old they moved to Germany. The
feelings of emptiness their departure set off were compounded when my wife died
two months later. I was depressed and lonely. One night I cast a circle and
told the Goddess that I would be a grandfather to every child I met in the
world who needed one. Since then my family has just kept getting bigger and
bigger and I have become grandchildren rich.
I did go to Bali that winter. When I arrived after twenty hours on a
plane, I was exhausted. I got a room in Ubud and thought about crashing, My
spirit said, “No, you need to go for a walk.”
I strolled down Jalan Monkey Forest, wondering how
I was going to meet the magical people of Bali and the mask-filling dancers. As
I passed Ayu’s Kitchen a man walked out into the street and stopped me. “You’re
a balian,” he said. When I confessed I did not know that word, he
explained. “Is Balinese name for what you are calling shaman.” When I admitted
that I was one, he invited me to join him in the warung for coffee. “I am
knowing the magic peoples you are wanting to meet,” he told me as we sat down.
Just then a little two year old girl went streaking
by. As she passed, we made eye contact. Power brakes could not have stopped her
any faster. She turned, leaped into my lap and wrapped her arms around me.
Everyone around us was astonished. Her aunt, Ayu, walked over and looked down
at us. “You have already started your Balinese family,” she told me. “We give
you a Balinese name. Now you are Gungkak.”
“What does Gungkak mean?” I asked.
She smiled. “Is High Bali for grandfather.”
I laughed. “I’m home,” I said . . . and I was.
WAS
IT AN EASY DECISION?
Yeah!!!!!!!!
I had been sick for a long time. I got a bad case of toxic poisoning when I was
working for Greenpeace, and then I took a fall, fractured my skull and laid
unconscious for five days before anybody found me. I moved to the woods to
recuperate. It took me six years – mainly because every winter was another
physical set-back.
WHAT DO YOU ENJOY MOST ABOUT LIVING
OUTSIDE YOUR OWN COUNTRY?
The absence of winter. Climate change is
already having an affect here though.
WHAT
IS THE HARDEST THING ABOUT BEING AN EXPAT?
Not having a vote.
WHAT DO YOU LOVE ABOUT YOUR HOST
COUNTRY?
Honestly?
The children!
WHAT DO YOU MISS MOST ABOUT YOUR OWN
COUNTRY?
My
grandchildren – both natural and adopted. And the Redwood Trees in my back yard
and the river in my front yard. The peace and quiet. Bali is a very noisy
place.
DO
YOU SPEAK ANY FOREIGN LANGUAGES?
I was
dyslexic as a kid. Learning languages other than English was always hard. But
years ago I could speak some Polish, German, Spanish and Pig Latin. Didn’t get
to university until I was almost 46. For my Master’s thesis I taught myself to
read Ancient Greek and translated The Bacchae. I don’t remember any of
those languages any more. As for Indonesian – I am partially deaf and I can
speak it (somewhat) but I can’t hear it. Just the same I taught English here in
a Vocational High School for ten years.
WHAT ARE YOU INVOLVED IN NOW?
Playing with my Balinese grandchildren, Core –
almost four. Augus – almost two, and Kadek –almost 5 months. All three live in
my house. The rest of the time I’m writing, doing research or taking
naps.
HAVE
YOU ALWAYS DONE THAT? EXPLAIN.
No, on the naps. I used to get by on 3-4
hours sleep a day. I’ve always been involved with kids, and I started writing
at age 6 when I overcame the dyslexia.
WHAT INSPIRES YOU MOST?
Nature.
IS IT CHALLENGING BEING A FOREIGNER ?
Yeah . .
. but everything’s challenging when you’re 78 years old.
WHO IS YOUR FAVOURITE AUTHOR AND WHY?
Ray
Bradbury – Dandelion Wine. His Douglas Spaulding growing up in Green Town
Illinois circa the late 20’s and early 30’s could have been me growing up in
Milwaukee Wis. In the late 30’s and early 40’s. I knew all the people in that
book. More importantly it was very much a book about magic. I read it to my
wife, my kids, my grandkids and my students, Here in Bali I used chapters from
it in a Creative Writing course for University English students.
YOU WERE EDUCATED IN AMERICA BUT ARE
WELL TRAVELLED. DID YOUR TRAVELS INLUENCE YOU PERSONALLY?
I didn’t
get to Europe, Africa and some parts of the middle East until 1986. I was
turning 50, had just got my Masters Degree and that was the year of Chernobyl.
I saw environmental damage everywhere I went. I was in two terrorist attacks –
one that killed a whole bunch of people and missed me only because my spirit
yelled, “Get the fuck out of here. Now!” less than a minute before the bomb
went off. I went back home and instead of going after my Phd as planned, I went
to work for Greenpeace.
HAVE YOU WON ANY PRIZES OR AWARDS?WHAT
DID THEY MEAN TO YOU?
Nothing
major – but a lot of small ones that were significant because they showed
people’s appreciation of my work. Won a grant for artistic achievement
that paid for my graduate studies.
OTHER THAN WORK AND FAMILY, WHAT ELSE DO
YOU LOVE?
MOTHER EARTH!!!
IF YOU HAD AN
OPPORTUNITY TO SPEAK TO THE ENTIRE WORLD, WHAT WOULD YOU SAY?
“Love
Your Mother!!!!!!!!!”
DESCRIBE YOUR PERFECT DAY.
Don’t
know that I’ll ever have one. Always tell my students that perfection is a
target. It should always just elude you because if you ever managed it there
wouldn’t be anything left to try for.
ARE YOU CONCERNED ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT?
Absolutely!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE FUTURE?
Haven’t
really got any but since I’m 78 I suppose I should start thinking about what
I’m going to do when I get old.
WILL YOU RETURN TO LIVE IN AMERICA AT
SOME STAGE?
Went back
8 years ago when my brother died. Couldn’t wait to come home to Bali. Don’t
expect I’ll ever leave again.
ANYTHING YOU’D LIKE
TO ADD?
Wrote
this poem a few years ago. I think it sums me up pretty well.
NIGHT BIRD
At nine I
had a conversation with a tree,
“Do you
like being what you are?” I asked.
“Mostly,”
said the tree,
“though
sometimes it’s a bit monotonous.
Finding
our roots too burdensome to carry
trees
seldom walk.”
I said:
“I will not be a tree.
I intend
to travel far and fast and free.”
The tree
sighed,
“Every
winter while I sleep
I dream
of joining far-off forests
but every
spring I wake up in the same old place.”
I said:
“I will not settle for just dreams.
Perhaps I
shall leave my roots behind.”
The tree
shook itself,
showered
me with leaves of red and gold and orange,
“Without
their roots things die,” it warned.
I
disagreed. “Birds have no roots
and they
fly far and fast and free.
Perhaps I
shall be a bird.”
Another
ponderous shake,
another
shower of bright Autumn leaves.
“Unless
they only fly in the dark,” said the tree,
“birds
leave long shadows behind and beneath them.
Shadows
and roots are pretty much the same.”
. . . I
should have listened.
Trees are
slow-thinkers, but they are wise.
At twenty
I went adventuring,
learned
the tree was telling truths.
Footloose
. . . having severed my roots
but
cumbered by memories
and
followed by the shadows
which the
tree had warned
would not
be left behind:
loves
unrequited,
hopes and
dreams unrealized,
directionless
ambitions,
and
hunger . . .
always
hunger!
at twenty
I was mostly appetite.
At thirty
I had grown new roots,
anchored
by wife and family
wings
folded and feet firmly on the ground
and yet .
. .
for that
time it seemed
that when
I looked behind
the
shadow that I cast was dancing.
Another
decade passed . . .
deaths
and other departures
caused
roots to fray and fade
and
finally break
and set
me free to fly again
except my
wings were broken
and I had
to walk instead . . .
cautiously.
In my
fifties I returned to the forest,
lived
among trees that had
two
thousand year old memories.
And do
you know?
Those
trees had delicate shallow roots
but cast long
shadows.
They
endured . . . and so did I,
spending
my days gathering up my shadow memories,
waiting
for each dawn
and the
rising Sun
to let me
cast them.
hoping to
meld them
into a
single shadow big enough to matter.
In my
sixties I crossed the ocean,
came all
the way to the far side of the world,
I
thought,
“This is
a good place to watch Sunsets,
perhaps I
and my shadows will settle here as well.”
Now in my
seventies I turn my back,
and
disregard horizons,
I simply
let
the
Sun roll down the sky behind me.
Its last
rays cast my shadow just the same
long . .
. long . . . longer than I could have imagined
until it
touches all the far and further shores
I
thought I had abandoned.
But when
the last light
and the
shadow fade and vanish
I
contemplate the darkness peacefully
wait
patiently
until
that same Sun rises up again before me,
and then
I pull myself back together
and go on
with my life,
for I have
come to realize
that I no
longer need to cast those shadows,
but
instead should simply wear them
and go on
traveling
far
and fast and free like a night bird flying.
Blessed
Be
Gungkak
Bob
Welcome
to the Bali Grandfather Stories site, which is dedicated to sharing the
creative writings of Gungkak Bob for children young and old all over
the world. All of the wonderful writings on this website are free of charge - if you would like to offer a donation to support Gungkak Bob's work please do so...
Clancy's comment: Thanks, Bob - Gungkak. Love your piece of nirvana. It is a great story. Thanks for sharing.
Check out Bob's website where he offers his written works for free. But, do him a favour and leave a donation.
I will see you in Bali, Bob.
I'm ...
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