Know not, Beloved This path about to end when And where. I trust you.
Trust is what she’s been holding tight because without it she’s lost the grip against so much magnetic force around that will pull her into a gaping hole, where greediness can consume anyone till no end.
Thanks, Beloved, for giving me a life that’s imperfect but perfectly humbling me in many ways.
Her life, Beloved, Perfectly-directed film Ready for Oscars—
She sometimes forgets that life is a performed script in which she is casted to act out a given role the best she can. She should follow the director’s direction and directive.
What about spectators? She should ignore spectators. Spectators are stars whose job is to see and comment on the film. And they pay for what they see and comment. The payment goes to the stars!
So, dear Star. Fix your moves. Better your expression. Tag your ears with the melody. Live in harmony, with your own self like JavaneseBedhaya performers who are meditatively drowned in the sacred composition.
A wreath, Beloved, A circle packed with beauty, Arranged true colours—
When you’re bored, splash some paints! When you’re angry, splash some paints! When you feel happy, splash some paints! When you feel funny, splash some paints! When you get offended, splash some paints!
As honest as you to you when you’re alone, your colours speak the truth.
A home, Beloved Not an outlook— it’s the soul That hugs when inside.
I bought my first property at 34, a bit late from the original plan simply because I was broke. It was a small house in Greater Jakarta, that is now called “Rumah Bob” (literally Bob’s home) named after my cat Bob.
It is one tiny house in a small cluster, uniformly designed with minimum freedom to show “me” — the owner can only have it painted different colours, install different window sills, plant different flowers and design different garden, add different carport, or maybe buy different cars.
That has motivated me to have a home that reflects “the me that I want to present”. None of the houses offered to me by brokers or friends hit my core although some were into my taste— of course some were simply too pricy. 😩 I rejected all offers.
Apology – Some people (who helped search property for me) thought I was too much because for some of them a house is simply a place to live in comfort, while I’ve always dreamt to live in a home where I can express the true me and help my guests understand their true selves by visiting the home. A few of them sarcastically said I shouldn’t have searched through them if I didn’t have enough money — ohhhhhh some bloody stings!!! 😂 Yet I did apologise to them for being so difficult.
I decided to buy a small plot of land in a greenery in Yogyakarta (my father’s home town) and build a home from scratch.
Architect – It’s very important to choose the right architect. Not necessarily the most prominent as to me integrity and friendship is the most important thing – luckily my best friend recommended her student to work on my dream. Working with an architect who was artist had blessed me. She understood what was wanted by her clients but she never got satisfied even when the clients said the final draft was excellent. She would get back to me saying “Mbak, I think I find which part should be optimised. I’ll get back to you with a new draft.” Thanks to Mbak Novi.
The Core – My home will never impress random onlookers from the outlook or those who think a good house is a luxurious building; they will simply think it’s a humble abode clean and fresh. It will only impress its guests, family and friends who truly relate with me as human beings with different kinds of engagements or those who know how to appreciate humanity and ordinary.
I wish to be granted health and prosperity to live long enough to enjoy being a sincere host in my true home to those who love life.
After the moon? No. The sun is where this heart walks With rain that visits.
Chasing what’s not clear and uncertain was an exciting thing for the hot-blooded. Dark, shadowy picture of what she once imagined has started fading away. The moon’s shift is over.
Walking in this forest, the leaves has rekindled her faith that rain is paying a short visit. When the rain stops, she will again realise that her heart is always enveloped in the warmth of clarity.
Sunbeam always opens a new chapter in which sunshine will take over what’s mysterious and frightening. Light will help her eyes see things the way they are, no assumption, no prejudice. It is what it is.
When she reaches the edge of the forest, she will step on a meadow where the moon is again sending shadow but this time there is no mystery anymore.
All is clear. All is well. What it takes is just counting the milestones and blessing all that are sensed.
Blissful, Beloved, Joyful, gleeful— life should be. Save the right window.
‘m praying that I’ll be saved from any danger and threats from any creature. Amen…
Nagasari or Nogosari is rice cake filled with ripe banana, one “snack” included in Javanese praying ceremony. This food symbolises prayer to God for safety and security from any danger and threats from any creature; and so a Javanese’s life can be blissful, joyful and gleeful.
Garden, Beloved, Fertilized with poisons? Dead! Cinder rose goes off.
A group call with my brother and sister in law is mostly either stupid or crazy. Once we talked about the old time passing and our addiction.
How someone gets addicted to something is mostly started from a physical or mental exit of pain— either clinically prescribed or personally decided— followed by excessive dependency on the substances or the activities.
I’ve seen how people addicted to medicine (I was to pain killer), drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, etc have changed from beautiful human beings into ugly persons either physically or mentally. It’s how awful co-dependency shapes someone’s life. Moreover, there is no addiction in any history that brings true happiness or freedom.
Three of us then discussed about someone who was addicted to something unusual: spiritual drills. Having all resources, the person went shopping on various classes and workshops about spirituality and self help such as meditation, mindfulness, tapping therapy, money magnet and how to optimise it spiritually, how to activate chakra, yoga and blahblahblah, gemstones and their spiritual power, mandala and spiritual awakening, how spiritual life pull financial abundance, spiritual traveling around many places, etc. One had been in one’s 60th class last time we met. One would be able to answer all questions in any possible ways. I called one ‘Mr/Ms Know All’, a euphemistic nick name that might be loved by those addicted to power and authority. Some friends called this person “Mr/Ms Spiritual Junky”.
What I remember about this person is that no one around was genuinely appreciated, everyone was just a “who-are-you-you-think-you’re-better-than-me”. One called most of one’s friends “cantrik”, a Javanese word that literally means follower/helper and would never be up to one’s level (one called one’s self healer and universe map reader).
How ironic! From someone who were full of compassion to someone who were full of envy and insecurity—
I think many if not all people to some extent were once addict who learned the lessons and changed the patterns to be free from co-dependency. My brother was a heavy smoker, been stopping for around 3 years. My sister in law was a Korean drama freak and quit. I myself was addicted to those I fell for and heavily overthinking.
“I almost got addicted to someone again.”
“Let go! Let go! Let go!” said they to me like cheerleaders.
Definitely! It’s a waste to wait for emotionally unavailable people to care that I care about them. I’m ok to get soaked in love and compassion but not in addiction to people. 💝
Addiction, oh addiction.
Alfatihah to all of those who are addicted to anything in any situation. Be healed and blessed.