Breathing in Breathing out The air is flowing Pumping freshness to the blood Pushing the recyclable out.
Time units are agreed. If passed, something is overdone. If missed, something is given up. If right on, moment is created.
Breath is my chosen time unit That I prudently save Between two points That I travel in.
How many will I take? I don’t even know Or how many have I taken? I’ve lost count.
It’s as accurate as your digital timepiece, Or as elegant as your mechanical winding. Our time is as precious, Yet we count with different tools.
Alas! Don’t ask me to walk faster Just because you run. Don’t tell me to stay put Just because you sit.
Life is short Yet expensive to lament If we don’t cross the path, It’s simply because of Simple word: Decision Because Fate sometimes doesn’t seem to fit. Whose decision? I don’t know. I’ll just breathe Until the sun moves in reverse.
Today, Beloved, Filled with laughter of past times. Bitter was, sweet is— Time doesn’t heal. It turns taste, Look. All is well. All shall pass.
Rendezvous with my best people, those who are always with ears to listen and to be listened to, with tongue to twist bitterness to wisdom, with foolishness to laugh at what’s not even funny but needing some appreciation.
Some people are amazing with just one reason called trust.
Blessed to have them.
Holiday is getting shorter. Let’s slow the steps and insert more meaningful conversations before it halts.
Mother, Beloved She’s giving more than taking No end since morning.
This morning I saw my mother cleaned our slim long patch of plants and Mother Nature showed the beauty along the patch. Many herbs and flowers are presenting their prime time. Some of them are preparing their exhibit and yields. Many of them are of no bloom after last month.
I didn’t help her. Let her enjoy the cleaning, let me take some pictures. 😝
Some neighbours passed by and greeted us, exchanging some light chat about the neighbourhood. One of them came to us bringing a bowl of nasi jagung (steamed corn grain) before she went teaching.
A short visit with long lost warmth of a real neighbourhood
Blinding, Beloved, Light when too bright. Dimly bright Suits these eyes searching Luminosity and cracks Following path to a home—
Sometimes light disturbs eyes because its intensity is way too high than what’s expected or needed by the eyes. eyes can only tolerate and work well with enough light. So the more isn’t always the better.
I learn Life is about counting gates of moments. It’s not what I celebrate, It’s how I celebrate. They call it this, I call it that, It’s a day dyed with red, blue, yellow Yet Really the day won’t describe its own color when asked.
One more day to celebrate!
It’s not unusual Ramadhan is closed on different days by different groups of Muslim esp. in big country like Indonesia. One group may close Ramadhan on 29th day, the other on 30th. It’s not a big deal (although some noisy people like to debate about it) but it’s not simple things to explain. Overall the difference is due to 2 different methods of seeing the crescent moon visibility in the horizon – one group is using mathematical astronomy (computation), the other physical observation (telescope).
This year most of my family in Indonesia celebrated the Eid yesterday, I in Singapore today.
Without further ado….
Celebrate moments that are given in life including this festivity. Every moment is a gate to another moment before entering the next gate of moment. After entering Ramadhan gate, now Syawal gate, what’s next? Any should be simply a gate to start or to restart or to continue.
Gate after gate before finally the grandest gate ⛩
Home is where heart feels safe and calm. And going home is always something to cherish. One of terminology for going home in Indonesia —only in Indonesia— is mudik. Some consider mudik as a derivational Indonesian and Malay word from the words “me+udik= mengudik = mudik” that means going back to home town (udik= home town, rural). However, it is also allegedly an acronym of two Javanese words mulih (going home) and sedhiluk (for a short while). The mudik tradition is done on one celebrated religion festive day called Hari Raya Idul Fitri (the Eid Mubarak after Ramadhan). It is a massive movement happens from medium to big cities to smaller regions/towns/districts/villages where senior family members (grand parents, parents) usually reside.
Mudik is one cultural side product of urbanisation. Urbanisation as a population shift from rural to urban areas due to concentration of modern work styles (non agricultural) has left minimum of not no choice to younger people to go to bigger cities to work in big companies or manufacturing sites. And, as they have left their homes with parents and other groups of elders, they see the need to go home regularly. As much as they want to meet the elders more often to pay homage, their work duties have only allowed them to do it annually.
Why Hari Raya Fitri is the most chosen? It is closely related to the fact that especially in Java island the biggest population is Muslim. But not only Muslim will do mudik, other religion believers also do it as they want to enjoy the festivity with their Muslim family and friends. Everyone loves Hari Raya Idul Fitri. Everyone looks forward to mudik every year.
Aside from that it is the best time for a rendezvous, mudik is also associated with the word Fitri literally meaning “becoming holy again” or “going back to the origin of creation which is sinless”. So mudik isn’t only physical movement to where people were born, it’s also commemoration of going back to holy again (although the holiness isn’t the point as no one alive is truly holy), going back to the origin of creation (to realise that how big their success in career in the cities, they are still human beings created by God, born by a mother and raised by parents in rural area).
Maybe only Indonesians can really relate with this. We’re so blessed. 💓
This year is gonna be one of the biggest after the lock-down thingy due to the beloved COVID-19. Can’t wait to finally meet with my beloved family and friends after 2 years❣️
Selamat Hari Raya Idul Fitri. Maafkan lahir dan bathin. 🐣
Note: Hari Raya Idul Fitri = Lebaran = Riyaya = Ba’dan = Eid Mubarak
Roses, Beloved Gift born by Mother Nature. A beau with sharp thorns—
When you love a flower, let it stay in its tree until it passes away by the warmth of the day prince and the coolness of the night queen. It deserves nothing but appreciation; admiration is too fake for a shirt life of a rose.
Beauty, Beloved Bodily fades. Beauty stays Only as value: Commitment, integrity. Forever? Yes, forever.
I won’t exchange anything in me with anything from any other beautiful, rich, sexy women who look happier and more successful because I love the way Mother Nature presents life through this very journey.
Watching physical deterioration is provoking yet amazing. Seeing my own picture from small girl to adult mature, it takes courage to tell myself that who was radiantly strong has grown to this dully weak. At the same time it takes courage to tell myself that who was carelessly egotistical has grown to this wisely humble.
Thanks so much for all the lessons and gifts. I won’t regret. 🐣
May all beings be happy.
Dedicated to: scammers who never stop trying stealing from others in one way or another – if you don’t have money, just stop shopping, don’t use others’ to satisfy your impulsive buying, lazybones!
A gift, Beloved, From hands with a heart tested Through time to well shine—
Giving is one of human nature that can fade away if the hands and the heart are let be corroded by calculation and distrust.
It’s a gift to have hands loaded with loving and caring heart or heart equipped with loving and caring hands with very little if not any calculation and distrust. Train yourself, dear self to be generous. Just don’t get trapped by scammers who never stop trying to leak tanks. 🙂