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Journals•6 min read
On the dark moon that falls within the ninth month of the Saka cycle (the lunar calendar that sets the rhythm for many auspicious events within Indonesia’s Hindu Dharma community) the dynamism of the island is expressed in one of its loudest forms. In a custom known as Pengerupukan, traditional householders across Bali take-up instruments, pots and pans, conch-shells and more, inviting noise and smoke and activity into every area of the compound to transform negative energies. The pandemonium then hits the streets, where thousands gather to witness the formidable ogoh-ogoh effigies made to represent the bhuta kala, or lower elemental forces of the Universe. These terrifying, often toweringly large, figures are paraded through towns and villages, alike, accompanied by the young men and boys who crafted them, and the spirited clashing of gongs and cymbals. They are bounced, twisted and turned, igniting scenes of ferocity, before being set alight in a symbolic catharsis of the negativity they have channelled. And then, in the most incredible contradiction of energies, the fires burn out, the sun rises and stillness takes the place of chaos. Nyepi, the observation of silence, has begun.
The silence of Nyepi carries through to the following sunrise which marks the beginning of a fresh lunar cycle, often referred to as Bali’s New Year. It touches every home, hotel room, office building, alley-way, road and rice-field on the island. The only public facilities allowed to operate are hospitals – to this day, even the airport shuts down. Locally-appointed pecalang authorities are tasked with ensuring everyone remains indoors, using minimal electricity (read: no lights, no music or television) and remaining as quiet as possible. Religious activities are placed on hold, telecommunication networks pause their data services and all manner of vehicles are strictly prohibited from being driven. For 24 hours Bali’s public areas are transformed from bustling energy centers to still, empty spaces, completely devoid of human activity.
For most cultures around the world, the turning of a new cycle is marked with feasting, fireworks and festivities, with silence reserved for the aging, or perhaps, the grieving. And, in fact, within the Balinese culture itself silence is a rare commodity. So, how has the Nyepi tradition remained so diligently practiced in modern Bali? The answer lies in the substance of its essence. That is, to go inward and question the integrity of our lives: are we truly living or simply existing? Do our actions serve a greater purpose? Are we able to overcome our impulses, or are we enslaved by the temptations of the sensory realm? The Catur Brata, or four pillars, of Nyepi invite every individual immersed in its silence to dive into these aspects of their being. They are, Amati Geni (no fire, light, and in modern contexts, electricity), Amati Karya (refraining from work or action), Amati Lelungan (no travelling) and Amati Lelanguan (non-indulgence or the avoidance of passion). In honour of these pillars, many Balinese will withdraw from earthly activities such as sex, cooking and eating during Nyepi, entering a space of inner contemplation. And so, the silence of Nyepi applies not only to the concept of sound, but to the illusionary world as a whole. It is the darkness that leads us towards the light at the end of the tunnel; where the soul turns away from the external and embraces the qualities of the internal, entering the new year peacefully, consciously and in reverence.
While the practice of Nyepi offers the human soul opportunities for introspection, reflection and self-mastery, there’s no denying its potent regenerative effects on the environment. Last year, Indonesian newspaper Kompas reported that, on Nyepi, the concentration of air pollution in Bali’s atmosphere decreased by 47.07 percent. Methane and sound pollution levels, too, were significantly reduced. Statistics aside, both the visible and invisible impressions of Nyepi on the natural world are clear to see and profound to experience. By day, the birds seem to sing louder, and by night the constellations and planets appear to burst from the sheer blackness of the sky. You might see insects, reptiles and other forms of wildlife you’ve never noticed before; those residing by waterways will hear them flowing with increased vivacity. It’s as if, despite the underlying theme of silence, nature becomes more vivid, more alive than ever – free to embrace its truest expression.
Divine purification is another important quality of Nyepi. In the weeks and days leading up to it, the Gods, guardians and sacred relics of temples across the island are escorted to the sea and other holy water sources in a ritual known as Melasti. Sometimes kilometers long and breathtaking to encounter, these processions serve as a collective cleansing of the deities and their caretakers before the new year. Both the feared and revered energies are honoured throughout the process – a powerful example of the notion of duality that resonates through much of Bali’s teachings and wisdom. And then, on the eve of Nyepi, before the din of Pengerupukan, a purification of the elements called Tawur takes place. Crowds gather at all major crossroads to pray under the direction of high priests, preparing their respective villages for the energetic escalation – and then the silence – that is slated to unfold.
So, Nyepi represents a great microcosmic-macrocosmic reset. A time for all people, regardless of age, beliefs or background, to observe the laws of the Universe and nurture a deeper understanding of their inner alchemy at the same time. It’s also a space for the invisible realms to revitalize, and for nature to experience a moment of liberation from the demands of human life, reintegrating with its most primal state of being.
At its core, Nyepi is a celebration of tolerance. Its stillness penetrates every person, animal, plant, element and spirit on the island of Bali – reminding us, year by year, of the beautiful and innate oneness of all things.
TJOK MAYA KERTHYASA
Published on 25/03/2025 by Potato Head