Black Sheep White Light: Follow Your Bliss

By Jeremiah Messenger

Based on a true story, we go a journey with Jez surfing magical waves in Bali; experimenting with mind-altering substances in London and Amsterdam; falling in love in Canada with a snowboarding pothead; camping with a Christian scientologist hippy in Oregon; and hitching a ride with Satan and the Anti-Christ in Mexico. Having a reflective nature, he keeps a journal, writes poetry, philosophy and emails his muse in Australia. Jez asks the questions; what really is success? Whats my purpose? Where does this journey take one? Travel uproots his attachments, brings answers and a sense of freedom, whilst following the mystery. A novel begins to bud from Jezs musings, yet its ending remains clouded by various distractions that one by one, are faced until a sublime breakthrough occurs.

Jez at twenty-two has it all; good looks, popularity, a girlfriend, career but something doesnt feel right. He sees more to life than getting ahead. Inspired by the words of the beat writers and a rock-n-roll muse, Jez drops out of a physiotherapy degree and takes off overseas to follow his bliss. With a try anything once attitude, a passion for extreme sports, an interest in, Eastern mysticism, and an around-the-world ticket with a few friends dotted across the globe, Jez seeks answers.

Black Sheep, White Light is a gripping tale of adventure, and the blooming of an artist on his quest for truth. It is a testimonial to following ones bliss and dreams, listening to ones heart, and surrendering to the mystery of life, no matter how challenging it can become. Its a story for those who dare to dream, journey, and follow their truths to where the light shines bright.

Its truly rare and precious to find a book which has this level of non-judgmental honesty, depth, sensitivity and respect whilst exploring the outer worlds of travel, extreme sports, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. -Lisa Fitzpatrick ~ Soul Purpose Coach & Author

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Apr 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781452513300

Jeremiah Messenger

Jeremiah Messenger is a published poet, globetrotter that had an incredible awakening to the spiritual dimension. This is his first major work that just had to be written. He currently lives in Northern N.S.W. Australia with his wife and daughter, writes and plays music, works as a yoga teacher and helps run a charitable organization.

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Copyright © 2014 Jeremiah Messenger.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-1329-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-1330-0 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 3/26/2014

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

PREFACE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedicated to the reader and your life’s journey.

Inner peace is what the soul desires.

Sakthi Narayani Amma

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FOREWORD

I t’s truly rare and precious to find a book which has this level of non-judgemental honesty, depth, sensitivity and respect whilst exploring the outer worlds of travel, extreme sports, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. At the same time, Black Sheep, White Light rewards the reader with some priceless and surprising gifts which set it apart from other standard adventure stories. We can only hope that all heroes end their journey in triumph, and that they might be fortunate enough to be guided by the kind of mentorship offered by Jeremiah, the main character in Black Sheep, White Light . The true gift in Jeremiah’s story is that it opens up the startling possibility of an outcome rarely considered in other works aimed at young adults.

In this tale, Jeremiah sets out on a journey that helps to define his purpose. It’s easy to align ourselves with his quest of trials and tribulations. as he embarks on a globe-trotting mission, traversing familiar territory for any curious, modern adventurer. Jeremiah’s challenges are like initiation ceremonies, at times deeply painful. We cannot predict where his journey ends, as we are taken on an exciting odyssey with him to his arrival at a surprising place.

One can only hope that the many roads on an adventure lead them to the place Jeremiah eventually arrives. Success has so many faces, but in Jeremiah’s case, the story of his rite of passage Black Sheep, White Light, serves as a guide for success by firstly hearing and secondly following the call to adventure. The ultimate success though, is found in Jeremiah’s worldly application of the hard-earned lessons he has learned upon returning from his adventures.

If anyone can write a book about the travails of young adulthood with profound insight, intelligence, tenderness and depth, it’s Jeremiah Messenger. Jeremiah has effectively succeeded in bringing the elixir of his writing to life for the greater good in ways that are rarely found in contemporary literature for young adults.

It’s wonderful to see a book of this nature coming from Northern New South Wales, an area of Australia world famous for the mystery and intrigue it holds for people seeking alternative expression in the world. The fact that Jeremiah returns to Byron Bay and to his ultimate truth, is a superb irony, given that many travelers begin their search in Byron Bay Shire. Black Sheep White Light draws on Jeremiah’s life experience whilst aligning to the veritable truth – that when we follow our heart and stay true to ourselves, wherever that might lead – we will eventually triumph.

Jeremiah is the embodiment of the success principles found in Black Sheep, White Light, having created a successful charity for children and bringing his life lessons to a place of meaningful service, positive resolution and contribution to the greater good.

As a soul purpose coach and writer myself, witnessing and shepherding the evolution of a soul’s purpose and contribution through a writing and mentorship process, is a profound and exciting adventure like no other. I consider myself deeply fortunate to be privy to the evolution of Jeremiah’s journey, bearing witness to the unfolding of his true purpose on the planet. You too, are so very fortunate to have arrived here today.

Lisa Fitzpatrick

Assoc Deg Arts (Writing), BSc.

Soul Purpose Coach & Author

http://www.LisaFitzpatrick.com.au

Mullumbimby, NSW Australia

PREFACE

T oday’s society is filled with an increasing number of influences, pressures, vices, voices and opinions. Finding what truly matters and what one wants to do with their life can be an immense challenge. Where does one fit in? What is one’s purpose? What is success truly? Is peace possible? How does one find the answer to these questions?

Society has many road maps available these days. So many possible options, but what happens when one decides to follow their bliss? What happens when one stops listening to the outside world and begins to listen to what is truly important to one’s self?

These were some of the questions I faced before dropping out of University to take off overseas. Following my bliss and seeking my answers seemed a better way to live than what I’d done most of my life, listening to what others thought was best. But where does this journey take us? What is the destination? This is what I was curious about.

Within contemporary literature, few books deal with the search for truth and using alternative ways to explore the inner and outer worlds, especially in a real life scenario. With international travel and communication so effortless in our modern Global Village, travellers are exploring and opening to new cultures more and more.

Written in contemporary style, I aim to convey simple truths to the readers everywhere. Influenced by Paulo Cehlo, Herman Hesse, Carlos Castaneda, Jack Kerouac, Henry Miller to Alan Ginsberg,; like these greats gone before, my intention is to reveal the notion of true freedom by presenting a modern day ‘On The Road’. A story steered mostly by an inner compass, heart knowing and an internal journey.

When I left on this sojourn, I felt like I was really taking a step into the unknown or at least into a new direction from what was normal for my upbringing and society. It was then that I decided to keep a record in my journal. Whenever I encountered a unique experience or new revelation, I would jot it down for later.

As I advanced in my travels, the people I met seemed to have common influences and drives to find heightened and new experiences in life; including travel, adventure sports, rocknroll (or other expressive music), pot and alcohol use, movies, reading literature and poetry and sometimes the exploration of inner worlds through philosophy, psychedelics and meditation. This is particularly evident in those individuals who through innocence, protest or maybe good luck were given the ripe opportunity to set off in search for their own utopias.

At first it seemed easy. At times, I found myself navigating through precarious doorways, yet still with the sense that something profound was being shown to me. It was through travel, that optimism was birthed and a knowing that their are better ways to live. Many of these experiences described in the novel are quite common, others stand out as turning points, awakening moments for me. Like a gold digger who struck it rich, these moments satisfied my soul with all I had set out in search of and sometimes more. It was this inspiration that gave me the drive to write, in the hope that sharing this journey would give others insight in their search for meaning, and inspiration to follow their own bliss, whatever that may be.

ONE

S hiny, bright as love itself, on a rosy filled-with-glory afternoon. Like she’d just been laid by Don Juan on a bed of petals and filled to the brim with French champagne; as smooth as silk moonlight, strolling through a humid and tender garden, magnolias wafting in the air. I had to know what she knew.

I was soaring high above the Indian Ocean. An individual, map-less, no guide, following an initial clue imprinted within my being. ‘Got to find my destiny before its too late,’ crooned the singer from the band Joy Division in my headphones. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, all I knew was that I had to search.

The clouds resembled a mass of strange white shrubs with sunlight beaming an intense golden glow from within. If science didn’t exist, their surely was an ethereal existence of angels, Goddesses and Gods playing there. For a moment, I thought about asking the pilot of the seven 7-4-7 to fly that way. There had to be something special, honey love or magical dreams. Immediately, the pilot dipped the wing and began to increase the speed in that direction. Today, I was going there… to freedom, to knowing her. And this time, it felt like it was really going to happen.

On the first step off the plane, the humid air of Bali engulfed me. I located my bags, left the casual slaphappy airport and went outside in search of accommodation. Sweat droplets dripped down my body.

Hailing down a taxi, a big Balinese man smiled, ‘jump in, where to?’

He seemed over friendly, but being in a new culture, who was I to judge. We entered Kuta, the main tourist area.

‘This will do,’ I said.

He dropped me smack in the centre of Kuta town. Being late on a Friday, the atmosphere was rich with potent activity. The streets lined with shops, hotels and food stands, were crawling with nightlife. The town had an electric humid feeling. Loud music blared out of various nightclubs and pubs. Party people and locals drifted by with high spirits and glazed eyes, whilst different accents hollered down the dimly lit streets. Prostitutes pranced with careful eager eyes, as stray dogs searched for food. I watched my steps whilst, motorbikes zoomed left, right and centre down the skinny, dirty lanes and even up over the footpaths.

The poor were too poor. A kid, young as a sapling pulled at my shorts and asked in Pidgin English, ‘rupee?’

My adventure had begun, as I realised I was overseas again in a place where I hadn’t been before. It was a shock to the system to say the least. One minute my life was sweet sailing in an Australian life of contemporary promise, the next I was in a completely different country, amongst wild Bali nightlife. The people, the bars; the action looked fun, but I had come to Indonesia for its magical surf. So I proceeded to look at the nearby hotels. At the first one, it took five Balinese to serve me; I knew I was being dealt a wild card. But I really didn’t need the hassle of walking around the wild streets with my entire luggage; looking like a freshie with a sign over my head saying, ‘rip me off please.’

The room was simple and clean. White painted walls; two bamboo chairs, a bamboo bed, an Indonesian patterned bedspread, with one large standing fan blowing pungent air around the room. Lying down on the clean white sheets I felt comfortable and relaxed, then realised something unusual. My libido was raging out of control. Phenomenon strange, I thought to myself. Only hours before I was saying precious goodbyes to my girlfriend. We had decided a year or longer apart was too long to wait for each other, so we had made the most of our last moments together. She was delectably sweet.

Normally, I wouldn’t have been turned on like this. These feelings would have left me and given me a few days grace. Yet I was affected. What had happened? Malicious hotel owner had put me in a room where the energy and strange vibes make a man want sex. Or maybe the nightlife and the prostitutes offering themselves had made an internal impact. No, it was something else.

See I had been overseas before, but this time was different. This time I had completely broken the shackles of mundane life for something completely new. I was free with a whole world to explore by myself. A brand new journey flashed before my eyes, one where I would find out what she knew. Not my girlfriend, another amazing girl. The one who had inspired me to travel, but I’ll tell you about her later. Somehow the combination of this freedom, intermingled with a knowing that I was going to find the answers to questions that had been plaguing my mind for far too long now, left my soul soaring. Facing my fears to follow my dreams, to do what ‘I’ wanted for a change had me excited, deep into my groin.

The morning broke with a loud rooster cock-doodle-do and the sounds of a bustling little city. Still early, I broke fast for breakfast, with the anticipation of riding Bali’s waves. Four delightful Balinese waiters served a delicious tropical fruit breakfast in the guest hotel dining room.

‘No ice in my juice,’ I said and carefully watched them blend fresh apples, oranges and watermelon together, before hastening down my rift to make way for the ocean.

Arriving to Kuta Beach, the surf was dead flat and beach filled with just about every tourist known to man. English and American accents ranted and raved. Large clusters of Japanese tourists snapped photos as slender European bodies gallivanted along the shoreline. All by myself in an unknown world, I had stepped out of my comfort zone and began to feel a little overwhelmed and anxious about the huge adventure that lay ahead. Looking for quiet spot to reflect, I stumbled onto a grassy embankment adjoining the beach, away from the crowd under the shade of a single coconut tree.

For a few moments images of friends and family passed through my mind. I had left everything behind, including a good career that was supposed to set me up for life. Coming from a family with abundance, I had just about everything one could want from day dot. Fortunately, I realised that money can buy a certain amount of happiness but like The Beatles worked out decades ago, it definitely ‘can’t buy love’. After five years of university, I certainly could have done with a little more of that. My head was filled with facts. My heart felt empty and all the study had left me with a decent backache.

On the outside I was pretty normal; a university student, going in the right direction. But underneath, I really didn’t know whether I believed in that life of success. I knew there had to be something more fulfilling than just getting ahead.

The girl I mentioned before, she had shown me this inkling, inkling for enchantment and the happiness found in doing exactly what one wanted to do with their life. She had found it, and so could I. I had to choose; keep my mouth shut, achieve, succeed and fall in line and become one of societies puppets, or risk it all for something I knew had to be out there.

I sat on the grassy embankment, the beach only metres away, my past, like a broken cup; I couldn’t fix or change a thing. All I had was now. I could go wherever and do whatever I wanted for one whole year. The future, that is always totally unknown. Adventures that lay ahead flashed through my mind. All I had was a round the world ticket with five stop-overs; a Canadian working visa, a few friends spotted around the globe, and some big desires to surf and snowboard some of the best locations this world had to offer. Besides that there were no other concrete plans, no timetables and no commitments. I had never been more ready in my whole life for whatever adventures came my way and I was open for anything.

Hitting the road was always fun, yet this time it felt different. Maybe I was exploring a little, maybe searching for something, but now I had no definite outer goal to achieve or succeed. It was like my whole life was set up to achieve, to succeed, to reach a distant goal and just for what, to become successful, to be a success? Most of the successful people I knew were plain bores, always on the next quest of power and some of them were the complete opposite, famous movie and music stars. But I knew there had to be more to life than pick a plan, a face, a mask, from the galleries of choice and march full forward toward it. I wanted to live, to enjoy life and do what I loved. Sometimes that was the scariest thing, following what one really loved, because love can be vulnerable. But more importantly, I just couldn’t follow along any longer, without knowing the truth and meaning behind a few things, like success? And what I wanted to do with my life.

Akin to the first perforation of water through a sealed barrier, a small droplet of fear snuck in and began gurgling inside. What was I afraid of? Nothing. I asked myself again but couldn’t pin point a thing. Maybe it was due to the confusion I had been having before I had left. Luckily, I had been around long enough to know that when there is a problem, then the best way to overcome it was to stare the barking dog in the face. But I had no troubles whatsoever; I was free, totally free. It then occurred to me that that was just it. Besides a few months’ holidays here and there, I always knew what I was doing with my life. Now, there were no plans, so many choices, the vast unknown.

The tide had turned and started to come in. Sounds of the ocean lapping only metres away, and the playful screams of children echoing over the sands relaxed me. On opening my eyes, I was surprised to find my focus on two bare cracked feet. I looked up and saw a large round native Balinese woman wearing a colourful floral dress, with long black hair hanging behind her shoulders. In one hand she held a bunch of small pineapples and in the other a big rusty-handled knife. Shocked at the look of the old knife I jumped my sitting position backward, but the sweet look in her dark Asian eyes conveyed only peacefulness.

She merely held out a pineapple. As I had planned on going surfing, I didn’t bring any money with me, so I shook my head. Though she insisted I have some and began to cut open the hard prickly surface of the fruit. I searched my pockets and found a few Balinese coins that to an Aussie were only a matter of cents.

‘This is all I have.’ I offered the coins.

She dropped the knife onto the ground, accepted the coins, then reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a handful of multi-coloured cotton bracelets. I had to refuse as I had nothing more to give, but again she held out her hand and insisted I take a few.

I looked up at her and opened my hand to accept them. ‘Thanks, I have just arrived to Bali.’

She briefly looked me in the eyes; then slowly bent over without flexing her knees, picked up the old knife and continued to slice open the tender flesh of the pineapple. Cutting an intricate pattern into its juicy core, she created what looked like a spiralling work of art.

‘I can tell… by your skin. Just pay me before you leave the island,’ she said in simple English with a husky voice then handed me the carved pineapple and bracelets.

I accepted them like I was in some kind of wonderful dream that I was about to wake up from.

Majestically as her arrival, she grinned whole-heartedly and said, ‘welcome to Bali, enjoy your stay,’ then stumbled off on her merry way.

Wow. I thought to myself feeling much happier about my situation. This place is going to be awesome. I had heard stories of how Bali was poverty stricken and that you couldn’t go around giving to too many people. Now, my first day on the island, I was being fed and given gifts from a native. Talk about a surreal case of culture shock. Her act of compassion left me feeling energised and reminded me of the joy I had experienced whilst travelling and sharing with peoples from other cultures. I doubted whether I would ever see her again.

I had done it. I had started to follow my heart out into the wilderness of the unknown, bitten into the bullet of ever speeding life and by the taste of the pineapple it felt right. I was in my early twenties, with a love for life, adventure and anything that came my way. I was looking for a change, for something that was confirmed by the freedom of her smile, her lips resonating in my mind, ‘follow your bliss, Jez’.

Some experiences can purge themselves so deeply from under your skin, that they change one forever. This is story about that. The way it unfolded; the dream, the journey, the vague wish of the destination and the transformation was exhilarating, beyond the reality of conception, as this time I could actually remember it. And in the end, I’ll tell you, or maybe you will find out along the way, just why I had to tell this story. But firstly, a warning, this is not a normal story, one I never saw coming. It is one of truth, exploration, meaning, sorrow and of-course, love. It curves and bends; is a little wonky, dark and twisted a lot like life can be, and at times it even gets pretty ugly, but more than likely it will leave a little feeling of enchantment or magic in you, because it happened.

TWO

I n a quest for some of Bali’s magical surf, I searched for a way to the outer parts of the Island when I came across Poppy’s Lane Two. The lane, famous for it nightspots, shops, food stands and tour companies, was an ultimate tourist snare. There were a few motorcycle taxi guys asking if I needed a ride.

Sheer curiosity propelled me to inquire with this Balinese guy clad in Western shorts and a floral collared shirt. ‘How much does it cost to get a ride to Uluwatu?’.

‘I’m Jimmy,’ he introduced himself in a pseudo-suave eighties way, looking at me over the top of dark sunglasses and at the same time stroking the leopard fur cover of his motorcycle seat like it was his lover’s thigh. ‘Uluwatu hey. Yes Uluwatu good place. I take you. Good price, best price. I know good place to stay, best place. Bring your luggage, no worries mate.’ His hands continued running through the fake fur. ‘Jump on, you like the seat… hey?’

He seemed really proud of his fur seat, raising his eyebrows as he looked back at it. I found his infatuation with it to be hilarious, but a bit strange.

‘Its all right, I think I will take a taxi. I have a lot of luggage.’ I said.

‘You’re from Australia, hey mate?’ he said with a very awkward Australian accent and stopped petting the seat for a second.

‘Yeah, how’d you know?’ I was dressed like any other surfer in board shorts, t-shirt and thongs, but then realised my accent was a dead give away.

‘No worries hey, Jimmy knows.’ He slammed his hand down on the leopard fur. ‘Come on, come on mate, jump on. Jimmy will take you and your luggage to best place, best place, best place guaranteed ’ He said this in such a convincing way that almost had me believing he knew of a good place.

‘What about my luggage?’ I asked.

‘No problem,’ he said.

‘I have two backpacks and a board.’

‘Easy. Come. No worries maaate. Easy.’

He was a likeable character and he seemed sure he could take my luggage and me.

‘No buses go that way and taxis are a lot of money.’

Jimmy had found my weak point, and eventually convinced me that it was a good idea to jump on the back of his leopard skin with all my gear.

I hopped on. Jimmy drove to the hotel to pick up my luggage. We somehow squished together onto the bike with my two backpacks; the large one strapped to my back, a smaller daypack on my front and a surfboard strapped in its cover over my shoulder.

The ride was a truly new experience; total chaos. There were motorbikes literally everywhere criss-crossing amongst the dirty, busy streets of Kuta. Tooting frantically as the Balinese paced their buzzing engines frenetically, riding over the footpaths, between the cars and going fast, fast, fast. The Balinese and occasionally tourists rode by as if the rat race was newly prized with the world’s biggest golden cheese. The thing was that even if they won this rat race, they would still be a rat.

‘There’s got to be someway out of here, said the joker to the thief. There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief.’ Jimmi Hendrix songs had perforated my being for a long time now. Leaving that world of getting ahead for some real answers, I was starting to follow myself, doing what I wanted to do for a change, and man most of the time it felt so damn good. But to tell you the truth, due to following people’s advice and getting caught up in society’s world, I really couldn’t say I even knew myself that well anymore. Not that I cared that much. I often ran into problems in the past when I cared too much, so I had kind of trained myself not to care, not to be too attached to things. I was like this from an early age; things would always work out and most of the time they did. Plus all the books I had been reading lately confirmed this in some way or another; let go, go with the flow or the path of least resistance. I knew that I needed a change and that was enough to propel me into a new world, where hopefully I would find myself again. I wasn’t afraid to jump deep into the cosmic washing machine of life. Just how deep? I was yet to know.

We made it to the highway and sped away from the busy city at a feverish speed. I gripped on tight to Jimmy. My free arm was around his waist, whilst the other grasped onto my surfboard that was being blown about in the warm wind, nearly pulling me, my backpack and Jimmy off the bike every time the wind caught it. Humid air was blowing voraciously into my face; catching under the helmet Jimmy had given me. The chinstrap of the helmet was only loosely tied, barely holding it on my head. Every so often the wind would lift the helmet off my head. I didn’t have a spare hand to readjust it. It occasionally fell back over my eyes, blinding me until I tilted my head backwards to where the wind would again catch it and lift it from my eyes. Jimmy was giving me more of a thrill than a ride.

I couldn’t believe some of the sights. In the countryside, where shanty bamboo homes, and village life subsisted, most of the locals rode on motorbikes. We passed an entire family all riding one bike. The father was driving, with the son hanging on behind, the mother facing sideways holding her daughter, and another son with a lamb on his lap was hanging off the back. There were five of them on the one small scooter, with no helmets. Others passed by carrying chickens in cages, and people even draped live goats over their bikes. Occasionally I caught a glimpse of these unusual sights passed the loosely tied helmet that was flapping around my head and face. Adventure it was! As we raced and weaved hastily along these roads, for some reason I didn’t feel scared. More overwhelmed by it all, I was merely excited about going somewhere new.

We arrived at a surf beach with a sign that read Padang-Padang. I hopped off the bike and so did Jimmy, my madman driver. He briskly looked into my eyes; I’m sure to see if I was ok. He then grabbed my bag and started laughing.

‘Follow me, come’. He said and briskly proceeded down some stairs toward the beach.

I collected my surfboard, other backpack and myself; followed closely behind him along a curved path and down a beautiful tree lined valley. There was a vibe of energy-filled happiness, as friendly people seemed to calmly glide up and down the man made stairs carved into a dirt path. Balinese people, with big white teeth, grinned through peaceful eyes, as incense aromas drifted in the air. We descended down the path into a forest of trees and shrubs. An occasional flower bloomed amongst the bushes below, as a butterfly drifted in the slight breeze.

The butterfly reminded me of the first time I ever met a spiritual person. I was into the party scene back home. A friend had heard about this so-called ‘enlightened monk’ who was giving a ‘dharma’ talk in the city. I was pretty reluctant at the thought of sitting cross-legged for hours at a time, just to be completely in the moment. My friend said it was in the city, near where we were going out and persuaded me to come along, before we headed out into town.

We sat there in our jeans and dark t-shirts listening to the red robed monk address an audience of around thirty persons. He had a gentle yet wild vibe and besides the fact that he was purposefully making eye contact with everyone in the room, I wasn’t particularly interested at the beginning, up until he started saying, ‘the mind is like a butterfly, it flaps its wings in one direction, then changes and begins in another direction. You can never really catch it. You just have to watch it.’ Then right at that moment, a huge orange monarch butterfly danced into the room through an open window. It was late in the evening, dark. Seeing this giant monarch struck me as crazy strange. I watched closer as it flapped its wings one direction then the other. Always moving, it never stood still. The whole room watched in awe.

The monk continued, ‘Always changing, you can never pin it down, you just have to let it be, and then just when you think you have got it’ he waved his hand in front of his chest in a way that said it would disappear. Right at that moment the monarch flapped it wings out of the window and into the night air. We all stared back at the smiling monk, desperate for more.

The path trailed into a cave where we went single file while others waited for us to advance.

I was apprehensive at first, but Jimmy reassured me, ‘paradise, best place and good wave, come.’ I squeezed through a dark narrow cave with my entire luggage. I wasn’t so sure, but I was excited. The cave opened out onto a white-sanded beach with crystal green water lapping onto the shore and great waves peeling on a reef in the distance. People were sunbathing on the sand. Others swam, fished and surfed in the crystal green ocean.

Jimmy glanced back at me. I was transfixed on the stunning view, but something wasn’t right. Up until then I had just been following Jimmy and hadn’t even recollected where I was.

‘Great Jimmy, but this is not Uluwatu.’ I said.

Jimmy looked at me whilst I admired the view.

‘No, this place better than Uluwatu. Just down the beach, best place. Come.’ Jimmy started walking off with one of my bags and I had no choice but to follow him. In my previous travels I became accustomed to going with whatever life served up, rather than against it; the path of least resistance often worked in my favour. It seemed so much easier that way as well. Then, for a few moments, I recalled some horror stories I’d heard about Bali. I put these together with Jimmy’s fascination of the leopard skin and started to doubt. Trust, I said to myself. Something about going with Jimmy in this beautiful atmosphere did feel right, and even better than that. As I followed him, he led me to a bamboo beach hut, nestled in the edge of a forest and built on stilts on the side of a cliff, right above the beach.

Jimmy went in