Balinese Spirit

I’ve come to know Bali as a land of many aliases – and they’re all somewhat spiritual – ‘Island of the Gods’, ‘Land of a Thousand Temples’, ‘Morning of the World’ – a heavenly roll-call of sorts. It’s no real surprise, as I found that nearly every aspect of life on the island is steeped in religious belief.

For centuries, Balinese people have believed in a mystic, invisible force that controls their very existence. It is something that is deeply rooted into the belief system. Even modern life is built around it – once, arriving on Nyepi day (Balinese New Year), I found that instead of the convivial celebrations that most other cultures enjoy to ring in the New Year, the Balinese observe a day of silence, fasting and reflection. But don’t think it’s all pious modesty, they make up for it the following day with an Omed-omedan ceremony – a whole day of mutual kissing.

Over ninety percent of the island’s population practices Hinduism, which is actually what makes Bali such an open-minded and ultimately gay-welcoming place to visit. The religious system here is based on a universal principle of life and consciousness, atma – ‘live and let live’ – and ‘doing good’ karmaphala. The game is all about scoring brownie points for your reincarnation. Balinese people believe that they are living in what mere mortals would consider heaven, and they must do their utmost to maintain their position within it, by being good to people.

The LGBTQ themes in Balinese Hinduism also levels the playing field, with one of the ultimate forms of the divine being Ardhanarishvara, believed to be the apex of masculine and feminine balance, portrayed by a half-man-and-half-woman deity. The frescos of some of its temples also tell some LGBTQ stories, from the god Vishnu who pretended to be female so he could marry the handsome Aravan, to a parable from the Ramayana (that you’ll see performed in Balinese traditional dance) about two women who make love to bear a child without a man. More importantly, Balinese Hinduism also presents LGBTQ heroes in key parts of its sacred narratives. For example, there’s Shikhandi, who was crucial to securing a victory in a great war and is clearly expressed in the text as a ‘man trapped in a woman’s body’.