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- Элизабет Гилберт
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"
Not
necessary
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
have
good
idea
,
for
if
you
meet
some
person
from
different
religion
and
he
want
to
make
argument
about
God
.
My
idea
is
,
you
listen
to
everything
this
man
say
about
God
.
Never
argue
about
God
with
him
.
Best
thing
to
say
is
,
’
I
agree
with
you
.
’
Then
you
go
home
,
pray
what
you
want
.
This
is
my
idea
for
people
to
have
peace
about
religion
.
"
Ketut
keeps
his
chin
lifted
all
the
time
,
I
’
ve
noticed
,
his
head
held
a
little
bit
back
,
sort
of
quizzical
and
elegant
at
the
same
time
.
Like
a
curious
old
king
,
he
looks
at
the
whole
world
from
above
his
nose
.
His
skin
is
lustrous
,
golden
brown
.
He
’
s
almost
totally
bald
,
but
makes
up
for
it
with
exceptionally
long
and
feathery
eyebrows
which
look
eager
to
take
flight
.
Except
for
his
missing
teeth
and
his
burn
-
scarred
right
arm
,
he
seems
in
perfect
health
.
He
told
me
that
he
was
a
dancer
in
his
youth
,
for
the
temple
ceremonies
,
and
that
he
was
beautiful
back
then
.
I
believe
it
.
He
eats
only
one
meal
a
day
-
a
typically
simple
Balinese
dish
of
rice
mixed
with
either
duck
or
fish
.
He
likes
to
drink
one
cup
of
coffee
with
sugar
every
day
,
mostly
just
to
celebrate
the
fact
that
he
can
afford
coffee
and
sugar
.
You
,
too
,
could
easily
live
to
a
hundred
and
five
on
this
diet
.
He
keeps
his
body
strong
,
he
says
,
by
meditating
every
night
before
sleep
and
by
pulling
the
healthy
energy
of
the
universe
into
his
core
.
He
says
that
the
human
body
is
made
of
nothing
more
or
less
than
the
five
elements
of
all
creation
-
water
(
apa
)
,
fire
(
tejo
)
,
wind
(
bayu
)
,
sky
(
akasa
)
and
earth
(
pritiwi
)
-
and
all
you
have
to
do
is
concentrate
on
this
reality
during
meditation
and
you
will
receive
energy
from
all
of
these
sources
and
you
will
stay
strong
.
Demonstrating
his
occasionally
very
accurate
ear
for
English
idiom
,
he
said
,
"
The
microcosm
becomes
the
macrocosm
.
You
-
microcosm
-
will
become
same
as
universe
-
macrocosm
.
"
He
was
so
busy
today
,
crowded
with
Balinese
patients
who
were
stacked
up
all
over
his
courtyard
like
cargo
crates
,
all
of
them
with
babies
or
offerings
in
their
laps
.
He
had
farmers
and
businessmen
there
,
fathers
and
grandmothers
.
There
were
parents
with
babies
who
weren
’
t
keeping
food
down
,
and
old
men
haunted
by
black
magic
curses
.
There
were
young
men
tossed
by
aggression
and
lust
,
and
young
women
looking
for
love
matches
while
suffering
children
complained
about
their
rashes
.
Everyone
out
of
balance
;
everyone
needing
equilibrium
restored
.
The
mood
of
the
courtyard
of
Ketut
’
s
home
is
always
one
of
total
patience
,
though
.
Sometimes
people
must
wait
for
three
hours
before
Ketut
gets
a
chance
to
take
care
of
them
,
but
they
never
so
much
as
tap
their
feet
or
roll
their
eyes
in
exasperation
.
Extraordinary
,
too
,
is
the
way
the
children
wait
,
leaning
up
against
their
beautiful
mothers
,
playing
with
their
own
fingers
to
pass
the
time
.
I
’
m
always
amused
later
when
it
turns
out
that
these
same
tranquil
children
have
been
brought
over
to
see
Ketut
because
the
mother
and
father
have
decided
that
the
child
is
"
too
naughty
"
and
needs
a
cure
.
That
little
girl
?
That
little
three
-
year
-
old
girl
who
was
sitting
silently
in
the
hot
sun
for
four
straight
hours
,
without
complaint
or
snack
or
toy
?
She
’
s
naughty
?
I
wish
I
could
say
,
"
People
-
you
want
to
see
naughty
,
I
’
ll
take
you
to
America
,
show
you
some
kids
that
’
ll
have
you
believing
in
Ritalin
.
"
But
there
’
s
just
a
different
standard
here
for
good
behavior
in
children
.
Ketut
treated
all
the
patients
obligingly
,
one
after
another
,
seemingly
unconcerned
by
the
passage
of
time
,
giving
all
exactly
the
attention
they
needed
regardless
of
who
was
waiting
to
be
seen
next
.
He
was
so
busy
he
didn
’
t
even
get
his
one
meal
at
lunchtime
,
but
stayed
glued
to
his
porch
,
obliged
by
his
respect
for
God
and
his
ancestors
to
sit
there
for
hours
on
end
,
healing
everyone
.
By
evening
,
his
eyes
looked
as
tired
as
the
eyes
of
a
Civil
War
field
surgeon
.
His
last
patient
of
the
day
had
been
a
deeply
troubled
middle
-
aged
Balinese
man
complaining
that
he
had
not
slept
well
in
weeks
;
he
was
being
haunted
,
he
said
,
by
a
nightmare
of
"
drowning
in
two
rivers
at
the
same
time
.
"
Until
this
evening
,
I
still
wasn
’
t
sure
what
my
role
was
in
Ketut
Liyer
’
s
life
.
Every
day
I
’
ve
been
asking
him
if
he
’
s
really
sure
he
wants
me
around
,
and
he
keeps
insisting
that
I
must
come
and
spend
time
with
him
.
I
feel
guilty
taking
up
so
much
of
his
day
,
but
he
always
seems
disappointed
when
I
leave
at
the
end
of
the
afternoon
.
I
’
m
not
teaching
him
any
English
,
not
really
.
Whatever
English
he
already
learned
however
many
decades
ago
has
been
cemented
into
his
mind
by
now
and
there
isn
’
t
much
space
for
correction
or
new
vocabulary
.
It
’
s
all
I
can
do
to
get
him
to
say
,
"
Nice
to
see
you
,
"
when
I
arrive
,
instead
of
"
Nice
to
meet
you
.
"
Tonight
,
when
his
last
patient
had
left
and
Ketut
was
exhausted
,
looking
ancient
from
the
weariness
of
service
,
I
asked
him
whether
I
should
go
now
and
let
him
have
some
privacy
,
and
he
replied
,
"
I
always
have
time
for
you
.
"
Then
he
asked
me
to
tell
him
some
stories
about
India
,
about
America
,
about
Italy
,
about
my
family
.
That
’
s
when
I
realized
that
I
am
not
Ketut
Liyer
’
s
English
teacher
,
nor
am
I
exactly
his
theological
student
,
but
I
am
the
merest
and
simplest
of
pleasures
for
this
old
medicine
man
-
I
am
his
company
.
I
’
m
somebody
he
can
talk
to
because
he
enjoys
hearing
about
the
world
and
he
hasn
’
t
had
much
of
a
chance
to
see
it
.
