A Kaleidoscope of Kites

16/7/2006 Central Bali, late June.

The morning after the night before. A night where the earth moved for me, and countless others on the island. Another earthquake in the early hours. Measuring 4.5 on the Richter Scale, thirty three kilometres below the surface of the earth, felt across the southern part of the island. Thankfully no loss of life nor damage to property but yet another reminder to us all of the precariousness of living on the Ring of Fire.

It left in its wake a wild untamed energy. Winds chasing across the rice fields and through the windows of my house like a gathering of banshees on the run from an unseen pursuer. Shaking palm trees and rattling windows, chilling the air and making me shiver. A moody sky hanging low overhead, dense, lumpy and grey. Stretching without end from one horizon to the other.

Nature’s backdrop for a kaleidoscope of kites.

I love Kite Season. It usually runs through July and August but this year saw it arriving early. Carried on the back of unseasonably chilly, wet and windy weather. Arriving in Bali from our big island neighbour to the south east: Australians also shivering in one of the coldest winters for several years.

The boys of the village were delighted at the early appearance of the winds. An opportunity to bring out their kites into the rice fields much sooner than expected. Not the kind of kites we are used to seeing in the west, mind you. These are much simpler than the expensive sporting kites European children fly. Often nothing more than sheets of black plastic attached to a light wooden frame sent soaring into the sky on lengths fishing twine attached to empty plastic bottles. Some small. Others two metres or more in length. Shaped like birds or dragons or other mythical creatures. Sometimes trimmed with flashes of red, stripes of white or bands of blue. Occasionally trailing long tails that whip noisily behind them. Despite the simplicity of their construction, or perhaps because of it, they always look so wonderfully graceful.

Where I come from kite flying is an active business. Launch the kite and then make it do things. A few acrobatic somersaults and twists perhaps. Or dive bomb your unsuspecting brother. Challenge the kite flyer just down the park to airborne battle. Or pull the kite through the air in a frenetic sequence of figure-of-eights. But here in Bali it is a much gentler pastime. Let go of the kite and allow the wind take it where it will. No interference. At times there are tens of them filling the air with their characteristic thrumming. Floating peacefully, this way and that, on the wings of the wind. Going with the flow in every sense of the word.

It is a meditation in itself to be still and gaze into the heavens at a sky filled with kites. A reminder to be in the moment. To rest from the battle that we so often make of life. To break with the conditioning that says we should always be in control. To let ourselves drift wherever the current takes us. Without expectations. Just the wonderful feeling of being free.

© Jacqueline Le Sueur 2006