I was given my first Ganesha in 1998. I was in a women’s prayer group in Indianapolis. I was moving to Bellingham, Washington, and the group gave me a small bronze Ganesha at the final meeting before I left. The small statue had a card attached that explained, “Lord Ganesha, the elephant-headed God, was born to earth as the son of Shiva and Parvati. He is the remover of obstacles from our spiritual paths. He blesses our beginnings. Seeking his guidance, his devotees meditate upon the image of Lord Ganesha before starting any new venture.” I had never seen Ganesha before receiving my gift. They gave it to me to bless my journey. I have carried that small statue with me as I have moved, achieved, failed, started, stopped, climbed, crawled, crashed, and flown over the last 20 years.

A few years ago, I went to a yoga retreat in Bali. (I had earned just enough money publishing an essay to afford the trip.) I knew searching for Ganesha would be a part of my Bali experience. He was everywhere. I was amazed when I saw Ganesha as I walked into the space where my yoga retreat was being held. A giant stone statue stood before me at the side of the stairs leading to the compound’s dining area. As is the Balinese way, statues of gods were placed throughout the property. My heart danced when Ganesha greeted me. Outside of temples. Inside shops. With street vendors. Sometimes he danced. Sometimes he was reclined. Sometimes he was carrying an axe. Sometimes he had many arms. Sometimes he rode a rat. My search was fueled by my intense desire to remove obstacles, or at least understand them more deeply. I also felt like I was beginning something – change was happening – and I wanted to understand that more deeply. Ganesha seemed to hold the key to all that.

I found Ganesha in the monkey forest. Amidst cheeky monkeys trying to steal food from my small purse. “The grandpa of the monkey forest” sold me a small, delicate watercolor Ganesha that he had painted. The kind man told me his personal story, the story of Ganesha, and the stories of the monkeys. This Ganesha was still joyfully rotund but also tiny and precise. He possessed a certain amount of cunning. Some scholars point to Ganesha as both remover and creator of obstacles. I thought that a block could be both a crisis and an opportunity. I thought about the connection between my ego and obstacles. Does that mean the obstacle is removed? Perhaps removing obstacles is simply a question of perspective and letting go? Maybe we can just ask to see obstacles differently, and a new understanding will come?

I kept searching and found Ganesha in an artsy boutique. I was immediately drawn to the wooden statues that sat inside the shop. There were statues of Balinese dancers in intricate poses, so detailed you could see their eyelashes batting and hands gently caressing the air. There were elegant painted wooden eggs. There were also statues of Ganesha. I gravitated to the beautiful wooden statue of Ganesha, sitting powerfully on the petals of a lotus. Brilliantly colored in regal shades and brushed in gold, this Ganesha brought beauty to his story. His fist held an axe with certainty. There was a force in his grip as if to cut through the densest jungle. In him, I saw a connection between beauty and strength. In him, I saw hope that no obstacle was too great. 

Ganesha then arrived along our hike through the rice terraces outside of Ubud. We walked through a sea of green waving rice along worn gravel paths. The hot air was filled with a richness that I had never tasted. The blue sky. The bright sun. The gentle sound of the water in the small streams. I was keenly aware of the season. This walk would be different after the rice was harvested and the rains came. Beautiful, but different. Now, this walk was heaven. Artists sold their work along the path in small huts. The art reflected local stories and traditions. Texture. Color. Materials. The artists seemed to breathe in Bali and exhale its sweetness to the world. Ganesha found me on this walk. I saw him and knew. Framed in traditional Balinese wood, this Ganesha beckoned. This moment was perfect; Ganesha said you can carry the sunshine along your path through all your beginnings and obstacles. This does not have to end here. Maybe he said I will protect your sunshine? Maybe he said I will bring you more sunshine than your imagination can dream? Maybe he said I will give you strength to make sunshine? He moved me deeply. I spoke briefly with the artist’s wife and bought the picture. 

Today, I am still surrounded in Ganesha’s loving embrace. Just as he was quietly present in the Balinese landscape, he is all around me now. Pictures on my walls. Figures on my nightstand. A necklace in a velvet bag in my purse. Removing obstacles. Blessing my beginnings. Helping me find the strength to make sunshine.