The islands of Indonesia were born after the marriage of the Moon to the Centre of the Earth.
Their Mother Moon, (as women do) glows proudly over them, lovingly strokes their turquoise waters and coral reefs, draws their tides in and out, fills their nets and combs their sandy shores, dropping shells and sea horses and starfish and other delightful baubles as she goes.
Their Father Volcano, glowers sternly at them, (as men do).
Long seasons ago old Father fumed and sputtered and bellowed and smoked and roared and then, finally, exploded (as men, alas, do),
and brought up, in an act of unimaginable destruction straight from the bubbling depths of the earth, a scene of pure chaos, choking poisonous clouds filled the sky and screamingly white hot lava covered all…which…over time unimaginably geologic, (thank the one God with many names), eventually cooled and settled and calmed and became This…
this dazzling, peaceful, floral archipelago of chocolate coloured soil, of beautiful milk coffee coloured people, moving gracefully among greenery so fluorescent it almost, very nearly, hurts to look upon it. But look upon it you must.
The music of these extraordinary people and their amazing country, who come from outer space and inner earth, is the sound of nature,
the wind playing the leaves, birdsong, swooping whoops and whispering trills, melodious moonbeams, the flap of butterfly’s wings, the mysterious sound of the smell of flowers, curlews calling from strangely stunted trees, snakes slithering sibilantly,
baritone and bass frogs belching their knee deep melodies,
seeds noisily bursting and casting the earth aside derisively, trees swaying and murmuring sweet endearments as gently hooting ginger almost people, our cousins, dangle like orange earrings.
Tinkling bells and well tuned gongs sound and reverberate, become memories of themselves and are carried on the breeze into outer space, where, eventually, aliens pause in their labours to listen and send them back with loving kisses as happy sighs you can feel in the warm damp wind.
Indonesians move elegantly, smile easily and are, by nature and from it, kind and gentle and wise and gracious, musical and serene, balanced and poised.
Gosh. I like them, a lot.
-8.507484
115.261085
Ubud, Gianyar, Bali, Indonesia
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The Dislocated Hippies 
Beautifully written! Very poetic, Bill. Love the choice of images too.
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You are too kind Kath.
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No, Kath is not kind, to coin a phrase. I was going to write almost 5he same thing, so ditto dat!
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Thanks Hobi o Kinobe.
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After this Bill, the people of Sydney are going to seem a very mean and self centred mob -may the kind Indonesians keep you aloft!
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But several people I worship are from Sydney, my role models, even the Sainted Indonesians would weep with happiness and pleasure at knowing them. No, I’m quietly confident that Sydney and her people will shine like a diamond ( or even an emerald) and light up my dark corners. b xxx
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