Jam Karet (Rubber Time)
Stay in the present in the Balinese way
“I don’t have time to do this.”
“I’m running out of time.”
“This will save time.”
In American culture (and many other modern ones), time is a fixed concept. It is limited and linear. We could have plenty of time or don’t have it. Last year is further away from the past than the previous week.
Our society pressures us to be on time and use time wisely. Events start at certain times. Stores close at specific times. The GPS suggests an alternative driving route that could save a couple of minutes. If a train is projected to arrive a minute later in Japan, people waiting on the platform will hear an apologetic announcement.
It is stressful.
The line between controlling time and being controlled by it is thin and blurry. It is hard to relax when we have to go somewhere or do something at a specific time. No wonder the stress level in modern societies is high. It is now widely understood that accumulated mental stress leads to physical symptoms.
I had to adjust my view of time when I lived and worked in Bali with my family. The Balinese have a unique concept of time called jam karet (rubber time): time expands and shrinks like rubber. Quality of time is more important than accuracy of it.
Growing up in Japan and living in the U.S., it was challenging for me to get used to jam karet. Our workers constantly came late for meetings. If we announced a house party at 6 pm, guests arrived at 4 pm, 7 pm, the previous, or the following day. “Tidak apa-apa (It doesn’t matter),” they smiled at us.
The Indonesian (Bali is part of Indonesia) word kemarin means “yesterday” but also “in the past.” “Saya pergi ke pasar kemarin (I went to the market yesterday)” could also mean “I went to the market last week/month/a a few months ago. In the same way, besok means both “tomorrow” and “in the future.” “When can you finish your order?” Our workers would reply to our question, “Besok, ya.” We soon learned it didn’t mean anything–the order might be ready the next day (if we were lucky), next week, or in a few weeks.
Jam karet was confusing and annoying. I felt like losing control over time. But I noticed how relaxed the Balinese were. If it’s raining heavily, why do I need to leave the house now to make it to an appointment on time?If I’m busy with something, it’s okay to open my store hours later than my usual opening time. If I’m having a good time with my friends, I will stay with her instead of rushing to the place I’m supposed to go next.
Once I waited for a group prayer to start at a Balinese Hindu temple. I sat on the hard ground for 45 minutes with a few hundred others chatting with each other. My feet fell asleep, and I was increasingly impatient and cranky. “When is a prayer starting?” I asked the Balinese sitting next to me. “When the right time comes,” she replied. The priest invoked the god with prayers, mantras (sacred words), mudras (sacred hand gestures), incense, flowers, and holy water. He would lead a group prayer once he felt the strong presence of god. It can’t be timed or scheduled. The priest is fully present in the now, and that is it should be.
It has been almost ten years since I left Bali. When I catch myself stressed about time, I stop whatever I’m doing, pause, and take a deep, slow breath. Time starts expanding like rubber — stretching beyond seconds and minutes, descending into the depth of now.
Learn more about mindfulness and how to practice it at www.surapsari.com.