They’re working too hard to enjoy the sunny sun in the Balinese sky. Oh, what a shame; oh, what a stereotypical example of the average working family; oh, what a great insight into the seemingly perfect lives of the rich among the poor.
I compare my parents—Mom’s on the laptop, Dad’s on the phone—to the workers in our villa—a middle-aged woman is being harassed by my little sister for a glass of sprite, a glass of water and a plate, and they’re running around to gather our needs and to rid us of sights of cockroaches and other mounds of bugs.
Although I guess I exaggerate. Mounds of bugs? No, no, no. Just a few here and there. The workers seem to enjoy helping us, the most genuine of smiles on their faces. I ask for a plate; my mother chastises me because I can get it myself. But the worker? He tells me with a smile that he will get it. No problem at all.
Alright, they get money for their work. But hey, it’s not as much as the people they host. I sometimes wonder if they ever wish to be us, to be the ones being served, but when I hear them as they’re in the kitchen cooking our food, or as they’re giving a massage, I can’t sense any jealousy. Everybody here is content; wouldn’t it be amazing to achieve that?
To be able to know your lifestyle and accept it for what it is. There are the bad sides, the sides that make you want to change everything, but laying back is better. The change—what you want—will often happen on its own.
Once I let go, forget my desires, set them aside and live my life, all of that, they change manifests itself. And in the end, it’s not much of a change. You become who you’re supposed to be.
By simply letting go.
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