Hooked on a Healing

In preparation for my trip to Bali, I had read stories about the island’s mythical healers, who outnumbered medical doctors four to one. The healers’ powers and abilities are so respected by the local community that they are often referred to by medical doctors who can’t find modern cures for illnesses, their sage wisdom and communion with the gods are regularly a source of guidance for local businessmen and politicians.

But that was the last thing on my mind as I sat in front of a traditional local healer in the Selat district of Karangasem regency, eastern Bali. Instead of facts and figures, my thoughts were consumed by the searing pain shooting through my foot as the healer, known as a Jero Mangku, dug his long, yellow thumbnail into the back of the middle toe of my left foot, right behind the knuckle. Not 30 seconds earlier, he posed a very serious question to me - the answer of which directly resulted in the situation in which I currently found myself. Having correctly surmised that I was suffering from a knee injury, which I can only assume he learned from communicating with the gods and not my obvious limp, he offered his services. “Jero Mangku says he can heal you”, our hotel manager-cum-translator explained, “but you will be in extreme pain for a short time. He wants to know if you wish to proceed.”

Say what now?

Around 20 days earlier, I tore my right ACL while playing roller derby. Luckily I was informed with enough physical therapy I wouldn't require surgery, but I would be nursing soreness and a visible limp for the next 6 weeks or so.

“Jero Mangku says he can heal you, but you will be in extreme pain for a short time…”

Two parts of that sentence resonated in my brain:

"Heal you."

"Extreme pain."

I was having trouble quantifying what a Balinese’s idea of “extreme pain” consisted of. The Balinese are tough people. They ride their scooters kamikaze-style through the crumbling roads, taking potholes the size of small paddling pools in their stride. They kill their own food without blinking an eye, they practice cock-fighting the way we buy scratchcards, and walk around the rubble-filled roads barefoot most of the time without flinching. Their level of toughness was no match for my soft, cozy, coddled, Western ass. So when confronted with this option, I seriously had to weigh up exactly what a Balinese person considered “extreme pain”, and how it compared to what we pampered Westerners would consider “extreme pain”.

Prior to entering the Jero Mangku’s home, we had to don traditional sarongs and belts, and cover our shoulders as a sign of respect to him and the gods. Having managed to wrangle myself into a lovely little floral number, we entered home/temple. When the Jero Mangku realised we had arrived, he indicated so by putting out his three-quarters finished cigarette and lighting another. I quietly leaned to our hotel manager, Nyoman, and stated the irony I found in a “healer” smoking. “Of course he smokes!” Nyoman whispered back emphatically, “it helps him connect with Brahma, the God of Fire”.

"Of course", I thought, "and I drink beer because it helps me connect with the god of poor decisions".

My experience was literally NOTHING like Julia's in "Eat Pray Love".

But my time to weigh up all of my options was quickly running out. Nyoman, the Jero Mangku, and, I assume, the gods, were all waiting for my answer.

"What the hell", I thought, "it’s all part of the experience".

And thus, I agreed to be tortured by this complete stranger, for a short time, in the hopes of eradicating my knee pain. I carefully shifted my legs so as to not lose my sarong, and dignity, facing my feet towards the Jero Mangku. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and jammed his long, yellow thumbnail into the back of my middle toe, twisting it back and forth. The pain sent a lightning bolt through my entire body for what felt like hours. I held my breath hoping that would keep the pain at bay. Just as I felt I couldn’t take anymore, the Jero Mangku stopped and instructed me to stand.

I obliged the way to which I have grown accustomed, by putting all my weight on my left leg and swinging out my right, so as to prevent my injured right knee from doing any work. “NO!” the Jero Mangku shouted, startling me. He proceeded to say something in Balinese.

“He wants you to get up like a Balinese person”, Nyoman translated.

I looked at the Jero Mangku like he was crazy.

I haven’t been able to rely my right knee in almost three weeks, and I wasn’t about to start here in the jungle, miles away from a hospital, doctors, a physical therapist, crutches and painkillers.

But he just continued to look at me with this confident smile, like he knew something I didn’t. Against my better judgement, I shifted my legs and slowly began to rise to the standing position. No pain. Just to be sure, I squatted a few extra times. No pain! After it sank in, I excitedly gave the Jero Mangku a high five. Entertained by my breach of decorum, he let out a chuckle, like a boss, and continued in Balinese.

“You are ready for Agung” the Jero Mangku said, in broken English.

Agung? As in, Mt Agung? As in the LARGEST VOLCANO IN BALI?

I had wanted to climb Mt Agung since booking the trip to Bali. Mt Agung is not only the tallest volcano in Bali, but also still active, and climbing to the top was essentially a spiritual pilgrimage for the Balinese. I wanted to do it, but with my knee, the Western doctors told me it would be impossible. Now the Jero Mangku, by torturing my toes for a couple of minutes, is convinced I got this?

“He says you should climb the volcano and thank the gods for healing you!” Nyoman says with a smile.

Little did I know that was only the first of many interesting revelations with the Jero Mangku that evening.

Once the healing of my knee sunk in, it was time to begin the rest of the reading, followed by a purification and the realignment of my aura.

Yes. Seriously.

I fully realise this all sounds like a bit of mumbo-jumbo, but after experiencing what I can only describe as my own personal miracle, I was feeling pretty open to the other services this healer was willing to provide.

The Jero Mangku took my palm and inspected it, speaking in Balinese.

“Long life”, Nyoman translated. “Healthy body, except for your joint pains, which we have cured. You are very smart and work very fast. But if others are not fast, you get angry.”

This is very, very true.

“You are a happy person, but when you see people who have things they don’t deserve, you get jealous.”

“Well, I’m only human”, I chuckled, thinking I was funny. The Jero Mangku did not respond.

Awkward.

“You are already successful at work, but you will be even more successful if you owned your own business”.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while!” I responded excitedly. “What kind of business do you think I should start?”.

The Jero Mangku looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean…” I cleared my throat, “what kind of business do the gods say I should start?”

Nyoman spoke up, “they do not tell us, you must pay attention to the signs”.

“Something in Bali” the Jero Mangku responded in English, surprising us.

Suddenly he began to speak quickly still with his eyes closed, with Nyoman trying to keep up with translating.

“You must stay out of the ocean!” Nyoman translated, in an alarming tone. "You can go in a little bit, but do not go deep into the ocean and definitely not for a long time! The gods have been trying to tell you for a very long time, you do not belong in the ocean! You must start listening to the gods’ warnings."

“And under no circumstances must you go surfing. EVER.”

I’m not sure if Nyoman, the Jero Mangku, or even the gods picked up on it, but at this point in the conversation, my mind exploded.

What was left of my mind started relaying these so called “signs” the gods have been giving me:

First, the trip was booked as a surfing holiday. Since moving to a landlocked country two years earlier, I had missed being near the ocean and was so excited to get back to surfing again. I was even approached by a few surfing magazines to write some surf-related articles for them while in Bali.

Then I hurt my knee… I was ok, but the only thing the doctors told me I couldn’t do - literally the only thing - was that I couldn’t go surfing because of the movement it required of the knee.

A sign from the gods?

Second, four days into the trip, while on the island of Nusa Lembongan just off the coast of Bali, I rented out a local fishing boat to go snorkelling in The Mangrove, Manta Bay and Manta Point - the latter two were where you could snorkel with mantas (hence the name). While it is true that I did see many manta rays, I was also attacked by a swarm of jelly fish larvae, also known as sea lice, which stung me all over my body and, creepily enough, got stuck in my bathing suit and had a field day stinging me all along my cleavage. As such, my body was covered in itchy red blisters.

A sign from the gods?

Third, just before arriving in Karangasem, we were in the Gili Islands, near the island of Lombok. This space was also popular for its snorkelling, this time with sea turtles. Unfortunately, the night before I was struck down with a nasty case of Bali belly which had me throwing up from both ends every 10-15 minutes throughout the night and next day, making it impossible to go snorkelling, unless I was willing to turn the ocean into my person toilet for the day, which I couldn’t in all good consciousness bring myself to do.

A sign from the gods?

Jero Mangku effectively scared the crap out of me with a glimpse into the future where I die horribly and slowly from a surfing-related incident.

But the news wasn’t all bad. After effectively telling me about my demise, he held both of my shoulders and again began calmly speaking in Balinese.

“He says you have very strong energy”, Nyoman obliged. "He says that sometimes, you can, how do you say this… see into the future…”

WHAT?

“Not very far in the future, only about a day or so in advance. But with practice you can see further into the future.”

I interrupted. “Wait, so you’re saying with practice, I can see into the future?”

“Yes, with enough practice” Nyoman smiled.

“How do I practice!?” I was ready to nail this down now - seeing into the future!?

The Jero Mangku closed his eyes, put his hands on his knees with the palms up, lotus style, inhaled deeply and then exhaled a reverberating “oooooooooooooooooooommmmmmm”. He repeated this several times, clearly requesting that I join him.

I did my best to copy, again taking a deep breath but this time letting the exhale be the “om”. This time around, I let out a somewhat more respectable “oooooooommmmmmm” which seemed to please him.

The Jero Mangku again held my shoulders and closed his eyes, once again communing with the gods and speaking Balinese.

“And you also have the ability to pass your energy to others,” Nyoman translated. “You have the ability to be a healer, and with practice you will be able to heal others.”

“Wait”, I said with a heavy dose of uncertainty. “Are you telling me that by meditating, I will be able to see the future and heal people with my hands?”.

The Jero Mangku didn’t need this skepticism translated, as clearly he’s heard this before. He just held out his hands with a smirk on his face like, “what can I say? The gods have spoken”.

Nyoman cut in, “by meditating 10-20 minutes at night, before you go to sleep, you will focus your mind and be able to increase your powers. The act of saying ‘om’ clears your mind and allows you to speak directly to the gods”. He pointed to the middle of his forehead, and then up into the sky.

Is this guy for real? I mean, the knee thing was impressive… but seeing the future and being a healer?!

“Just make sure you don’t mediate when you’re menstruating, as you can’t commune with the gods when you are bleeding”.

And, with that, I was back in the room.

Next it was time for the purification. Stepping off the stage, I made my way to the back where a woman was standing with a bowl of holy water. Nyoman explained the purification process and what I should expect:

First the holy water will be sprinkled on you three times with coconut palms.

Next, she will pour the holy water into your hands. She will do this nine times, and each time she does you have to drink from your hands. This is to symbolise the nine major temples in Bali.

Last, she will pour the rest of the water all over you. You will feel all the negativity and stress in your life wash away with the water,

“You don’t mind getting wet, do you?” Nyoman asked, as if he just realised I had no idea this would involve becoming soaking wet.

I looked down at my light pink top, thankful for deciding to put a dark tank top on underneath just before I left the hotel.

I had just managed to say, “nope, I’m good!” when the woman began sprinkling holy water on me from her coconut palms. This felt nice and refreshing, almost like when you get stuck in a tropical rain storm.

"This isn’t too bad, I can handle this", I thought.

Next she began to pour the water into my cupped hands. Just after she would pour, I would bring my hands to my face and slurp the water, all the while my head is racing:

I thought we weren’t supposed to drink the water in Bali? Is this safe? Am I going to get e. coli or some other waterborne illness? Is the act of making water “holy” the same as boiling it?

Before long, my nine sips were up. Now it’s time for the big one: the pour! The woman then took the bowl of holy water and just dumped it over my head. As predicted by Nyoman, I genuinely did feel like the water was washing something away - aside from my mascara, of course - and as the water cascaded over me, I felt different, lighter somehow. She finished the purification process by sticking a pinch of rice on my forehead - the Balinese symbol for luck.

I returned to the stage and climbed up, soaking wet. The Jero Mangku put down his cigarette and turned back to me. From a cup next to him he pulled out a tiny dagger with a wavy blade and ornate handle - it reminded me of a letter opener someone might buy as a souvenir in a museum gift shop. But I’m pretty sure for our Jero Mangku, it was a totally legit ceremonial dagger-type-thing.

He took my hand and, with the palm facing up, ran the blade over my hand. He then asked me to stick out my tongue, which I did. He then takes the dagger and runs the blade over my tongue. I nearly lose my mind.

How many people has he done this to? Has the blade been sufficiently cleaned? When was the last time this thing was cleaned? Am I going to get some disease now!?

The Jero Mangku then rubbed my back, poked around at my lower lumbar area for a while and touched my shoulders lightly, all while breathing heavily and keeping his eyes closed. He finished up and said something in Balinese.

“Your aura was very easy to realign”, Nyoman translates. I guess that’s a good thing?

Suddenly the Jero Mangku grabs my right shoulder and says something excitedly to Nyoman. Nyoman responds by putting his hands on my shoulder, too. They both nod and speak to each other in excited tones.

“Your arms and back are very warm”, Nyoman explains while I look at them with uncertainty. Apparently that is supposed to mean something, other than the fact that I had gotten some pretty serious sunburn during the day.

"That’s what happens to white girls in tropical locations," I thought. But, whatever, they were super excited and who was I to spoil the fun.

Wrapping up, the Jero Mangku turns to me and says one more thing in Balinese.

“The Jero Mangku would like to train you to become a healer,” Nyoman revealed.

Say what now?

“He says you have the power to become a great healer, and he would like to train you. Two more sessions with him here in Bali. After that, you will be a healer like him and able to heal people from distance.”

Ya don't say...

Although I can’t say for certain what happened to me that night with the Jero Mangku, there are a few things I can say with 100% confidence:

1. My knee was truly better. No, it wasn’t 100% and I still had some stiffness, but it was so much better than before. I would prove this by climbing Mt Agung, Bali’s tallest volcano, around 4 hours after my meeting with the Jero Mangku - something that Western doctors and physical therapists told me was completely impossible.

2. Somehow he knew about my surfing dream and the crazy things that happened to me whenever I got close into the ocean. Were my encounters with my injury, the jelly fish and Bali belly signs from the gods or just a crazy coincidence?

3. During the purification process, when the holy water was dumped over me, I genuinely felt as though something washed away with it. And no, the holy water didn’t end up giving me the shits afterall.

I left the Jero Mangku’s home with promises of seeing him again the next time I was in Bali, feeling lighter, relaxed, and with a kind of confidence like I had just learned a secret that no one else in the world knew.

#healer #medicineman #spiritual #spirituality #aura #bali