A Name

The ripples on this heart
After a touch from a falling feather
Wrapped in a trivial memory
Of a name
Loaded with wisdom
Whispered silently
Forever.

Is this your name, Beloved?
Or mine?

(from Pinterest)

Prancing in A Tunnel

A line of this heart remembers
What’s not even in memories.
Flowing clean river hidden in the sky—
The other line of this heart remembers
Only what’s imprinted through relations.
Murky pool standing around the earth—

Don’t have the right to be missed
With these limited memories.
This sky is hidden by the cloud—
Don’t have the right to be remembered
With absence of relations.
This earth is full of locked doors.

Can only miss what’s not imprinted.
Can only remember what’s hidden.
Still beautiful
Still amazing
Yet hidden
Yet secretive
Circled around between hearts
That read what’s not inky written.

There’s an end
To a dream.
It’s when coming true
Or coming dead.
And that’s the light at the end of a tunnel
Of light
Of wide spectrum
In which we’re prancing.

Choose your colour.

you don’t remember me, I do; you don’t see me, I do; you don’t hear me, I do; you don’t smell me, I do; you don’t taste me, I do; you don’t touch me, I do — when you close the door, I stay yet I’m blocked from you 💗

Cold Breeze

Cold breeze blows softly
On weekends, and on the leaves
Rustling about me.

welcome another weekend 💝

What Is Money

Not answered questions:
Those to be pinned with meanings
By them questioning—

Surabaya did sum up my medium-length end-of-year holiday of mine. Hosted by one best friend, this 32-hour visit meant much to me: a lot of chat and enough food.

With this best friend open discussion is a routine. Last night’s discussion while driving around the city was everything about money. We both treat money differently. She is a better financial planner, I am a learner.

We used to be curious about what money truly was. Money discussion had always been a hot topic before and last night we both finally agreed that money can be defined as anything according to the one managing it.

We know different types of friends and their behaviour towards money. There are friends who meticulously count money (stingy), friends who think money is a symbol of welfare (social status), friends who consider money is everything (arrogant), friends who consider money is treasure (stupid), friends who consider money is nothing (careless), friends who don’t believe that money is a thing (maybe almost dead), friends who have little money (poor), friends who constantly borrow money (lazy). Complete experience. 🙂

What is money to us? We both don’t have special place for money at the same time we have special space for money. It is a tool. It is the replaceable at times, the irreplaceable at others. It is what it is with given context. We both agree that a question of “what is money” doesn’t need an accurate answer; it just needs honest response. Answer is too rigid and feels like a reaction; response is more flexible and almost a wisdom. Example? If having money makes us think we are more respectable than others, that is an accurate answer. If having no money makes us think we are less than others, that is an accurate answer. If having money makes us more functional as human beings in some situation, that is an honest response. If having no money makes us less complaining and harder working, that is an honest response.

We both don’t expect to be in forever comfort by having so much money yet don’t want to live uncomfortably because of having not enough money. We simply want to have sufficient amount as what is needed in life.

This visit puts me back on track that “life is just like that” at the same time “life is worth fighting for and beautifully living” with good will and a small touch of power from money.

Before driving me to the airport, she commented on my eyes.

BF: Have you put eyeliner?

Me: No

BF: Told you to always put eyeliner. You have one?

Me: Ya

BF: What colour?

Me: Brown

BF: No, no. Try blue.

Me: (frown on my forehead). I don’t have blue one.

BF: Try this. (handing a blue eyeliner to me)

Me: (reluctantly putting blue eyeliner on both eyes)

BF: Look at that! Brighter eyes! Ok, take it. Wear blue eyeliner more.

Me: Ok, as long as not green that turns me to a green-eyed. How much is it?

BF: I am not selling it to you. A tiny token of friendship. Not everything should be paid with money. Thanks for the birthday gift, too.

Thank you. Happy birthday, Madam Scorpio.

See you again.

Salaam.

see you, Surabaya 💝

Manusia

Manusia mengembarai langit
Manusia menyusuri cakrawala
Tidak untuk menguasainya
Melainkan untuk menguji dirinya
Apakah dia bertahan menjadi manusia,
Tidak untuk hebat kuasa atau perkasa
Melainkan untuk setia sebagai manusia.

(Emha Ainun Nadjib)

Good morning, Surabaya. You did a lot of moulding to this human being. Thank you!!! 💝

thank you 💝 for making me a human being; I won’t give up moulding this self to be loyal to being humane

Visit

Garden of the death
Where pray and wish are whispered
To eternity—

plaque of cemetery of kings of Mataram
gate to the bathing pool for women; women should at least take ablution before entering the graveyard complex
gate to the graveyard complex of kings of Mataram; visitor can only enter this enclosure by wearing Javanese apparel: kemben for female and surjan for male
as I didn’t want to wear kemben, I preferred not entering the graveyard complex and decided to take some pics (with my bag) under a tropical fruit tree called kepel aka Stelechocarpus burahol

Friendship

Hello, dear friendship.
This ship is sailing smoothly,
Storms don’t ruin our cruise.

Four are (fake) backpackers. One is (true) camper. We all sail together in a ship called friendship.

Alfatihah.

💝

a visit to a best friend’s youth center, this woman dedicates her life to accompany those needing support; the main house is for the classes, sitting room and kitchen; the front is a pendhopo for bigger discussion group plus tiny senthong for library
a visit to a best friend, a Javanese dancer cum lecturer, the wife of a late most well-known puppeteer in the country and the mother of a most sought-after teenage puppeteer in the island 💝 god bless her and family 💗 dear photographer, why do you always block me in group selfie? 🙃
Yuki after playing with my dress 😍 hey, you’ll meet a vet , you’d better watch out 😁

Green Backyard

The green yard behind
Is where greets and smiles soft-land
On the plate and glass.

Jiwa Jawi’s my backyard – found that the owner is a good friend of my best friend’s. she briefed me about the environment and seems that i can only raise cats, not dogs 😁
torch ginger aka kecombrang one of the major herbs grown within Jiwa Jawi, the more than 15,000sqm-garden-home
iga sapi bumbu rujak, lunch today 😘
with neighbours to be after 6-hour chat filled with warmth laughter and experience sharing 💝 I humbly thank you!

Mother’s Story

Tragic is comic
After fermentation time.
Dark jokes bring bright joy.

We always remember how our father loved our mother. He liked giving gifts to her and doing household chores like cleaning the floor and doing heavy laundry. Yet he also enjoyed teasing my mother around; his goal was to make her angry just to show that he was good at calming her down. 😂 Yet his strong affection to our mother did one extreme discomfort to her and some of us.

This morning my older siblings asked mother to re-tell a story that we the younger don’t record well as we were too young to save the moment. While they laughed before she started telling the story, we three waited curiously.

Mother: Once I went with my friend to a beauty parlour. She wanted to have her hair cut.

Younger children: With whom?

Mother: (mentioning a name that we are familiar with)

All children: (commenting about mother’s friend who happened to be a very fashionable woman at that time)

Mother: She said that I should have my hair made curly or at least wavy so I could look different. I said no because I should get permission from your father. But you know her, she was able to convince me to do it.

All children: (laughing and commenting about the lady who spent money like she would die today. Mother said that woman got much money from ex husbands so she deserved to do it.) So, curled or waved?

Mother: Medium curled

Older children: (laughing and commenting how she looked fresh but weird as we had never had anyone with curly hair in the family before)

Mother: When I reached home, your father seeing me with curly hair looked surprised. I thought it would be a terrific moment but then it changed to one terrible day. He was so angry, never before he became that angry.

Older children: Ya, I was shocked. Never saw him like that before—

Mother: I was not shocked with his reaction but the next action of his was a biggest discomfort in my life. He said he wanted to make the hair look better which I thought minor trimming and he took a pair of scissors.

Older children: I didn’t expect that to happen. He cut most of the curly hair and only left the one with very vague curls near the headskin. You were almost bald! (laughing) You became so not you.

Me: (upset) Why did’t you run to hide and protect your hair?

Older children: Hey! Don’t be too serious. He didn’t hurt her.

Me: But he hurt her pride! I won’t let my hair be screwed up by anyone.

Older children: I remember mother sobbed and I screamed to father to stop. He didn’t do it harshly, but I felt worried about her sobbing.

Me: Damn wrong thing! I never knew he would have this in the checklist.

Mother: No worry. He regretted and apologized on the same day. And trust me it was the only one bad thing he did to me. He said he didn’t want me to draw attention of other men.

Older children: Jeeeaaaalousy! We know some other things about his jealousy! You should tell more stories.

Mother: I think it was the best lesson for him about how he should not be too possessive.

All children: Yaaa!!! Agree!

Older children: Do you remember that you turned to be a better fashionista than her. I remember you wore turban and sometimes wigs.

Mother: Yes. And I guess he regretted it even more as I asked for different wigs and turbans until my hair was good enough to show.

What a comedy! Oops! What a tragedy turning to comedy after some time!

Lesson learnt: choose the best expression of love to avoid bad impression, don’t have your hair curled 😁, find a husband who doesn’t hate curly hair 😁, forgive your husband’s wrong expression while educating him, and see a comedy in a tragedy

Good Chat

Good chirp of two birds
Fill the air with random songs
Above golden trees.

Time flies when we spend it with those we love. How would I not thank this life for giving me abundance of them? Good to have a holiday at home before spending more holidays outdoor faraway from them after this. 💝

I am blessed. 💝

installation art of two golden birds – good time is a chat of two sisters remembering the sweet and the shit 😊

Tall Tree

There is a tall tree
Greeting the sky with its green,
The earth with its white.

There is only one choice left: grow! What’s grown within affects what’s grown without and the other way around — all in unison. Liking it or not, I grow as the sole way.

when feet are happily walking, eyes are happily observing 🥰

Levelled

Terraced hilly fields
Build levels, reduce runoff.
Beautifully strong—

vegetable levelled terraces ready for next planting
the white lines hanging are pipelines traditionally built to transport spring water from mountain to the vegetable plantation

Good Age

How good is friendship?
As good as age of a friend
Whose food transforms taste.

cakwe, elementary school snack served in style
onde-onde, never getting bored of it 💝
six of “avengers” but only three were available this time – when we were young, we counted the price tags; now we count the limits and portions of cholesterol, sugar, salt, red meat, blah blah blah while saying “aaah this one is good!” 😁

Good Roots

Good roots are strong roots
Supporting those on the soil.
They won’t be betrayed.

This trip is incredibly beautiful. Meeting best friends is more than anything. We talk. We laugh. We eat. We visit places. We engage with people.

One of my best friends who will be my neighbour in my humble abode is one of best human beings I’ve ever known. She lives to humbly serve humanity. She dedicates her life to help the underprivileged. She is so patient about what others do to her and always in understanding mode. She is so passionate in doing what she is doing to help others.

Among all her non profit projects that are my favourite is opening library in a small village that is functioning as youth center at the same time and supporting buruh gendong (traditional female labours who are paid to carry things either by sellers or buyers in Yogyakarta traditional markets, most of them are senior) in some traditional markets in Yogyakarta. If time allows me to live as long as I wish, our agreement is I will teach free classes of English, Japanese, leadership and management system in her youth center, while occasionally going with her from one market to another to greet the buruh gendong. Yet as an artist she is also teaching (mostly) women on how to make artistic products for sale to support themselves financially.

In this trip we discuss a lot about what we should do to ourselves and others but we can’t because of immovable blockages. We also talk about how we can feel good no matter bad a situation is. We talk about what will happen if the youth are not aware of what lies in their future at the same time we concern about how children around us get mature faster than we did before. And all always last long although with only a glass of tea, a cup of Javanese coffee and some pieces of local snack.

Life is too precious to focus on what doesn’t serve us good anymore. Life is too short to lament of any loss that is truly never loss. Life is too grand to just be sad of how that that we love disrespects us. Life is just too beautiful to consider what is not real.

So thankful for how real my best friends are in helping others. So thankful to be part of their spirit. So thankful that we are ordinary people in this grand life. So thankful that we are a grain of sand in the vast shore. So thankful that we accept who we are. So thankful that we are strong roots for each other.

Thank you, dear friend. It is good to always have a question “so what is our plan and action?” 💝

Alfatihah.

two women and clay jars – RC Gorman’s work of art

The Call

What colour is soul?
When the call is here, listen.
Skin colour is off.

Watching “Soul” again and still finding it refreshing 😍

one of those I purchased because it is definitely worth re-watching

Consciousness, Real?

What truly exists is what’s tangible. Nope. What truly exists is stories. Nope. What truly exists is belief. Nope. What truly exists is interconnection. Nope. What truly exists is mind. Nope. So what truly exists?

Look inside. Layer by layer….

❣️

A Path

A path to a place
Is walked through trees and uphills.
A meadow is waiting
Opening another path
To a warm home filled with love.

My friend sent me three photos of our beloved “simbah” (those senior people who are considered wise or those who have grandchildren) – Javanese). Most people call these simbah “batik maker” because they make batik to earn a living. We both call them “batik artist”. More than that through what we’ve seen and heard about them, we’ve considered they are artists of their life. How they embrace their humble life gracefully and consciously has always amazed both of us. They live like calm river flowing to the sea. They don’t struggle against what others think about or do to them. They live as if there is no hindrance and disturbance in life.

When my friend told me some things about those three honourable ladies, I secretly harvested some lessons. It is very critical reminder for me who is still very much attached to a feeling of (accidentally) underestimated and (slightly) humiliated because of one petty case. These three artists of life have silently told me to let go.

What a loud shot in a quiet weekend!

No apology is needed. All is gradually let go through my own wish and willingness. This is my life and I only want to be the artist of my own life. 💝

Thank you, artists of life. You’re blessed. 💝

Salaam.

Mbah Suhir, 93 years old 💝 matur sembah nuwun
Mbah Erah, 87 years old 💝 matur sembah nuwun
Mbah Isah, 82 years old 💝 matur sembah nuwun

Autumn

Dark night starts early
In fall when red leaves sway down
To earth cooling off.

pretty crimson leaves covering the earth somewhere (from Pinterest)

While normally talking about spirituality and self love, one day one bestie and I conversed about money. To me she appears much more calculating than all of us in the circle. She manages her money very carefully and (of course) influences her friends to do so.

“If we feel ready with both predictable and measured emergency issues, we can feel good in more time than not.” 100% agree!

She is one of two besties teaching us to save at least 12-month income for emergency, fully pay all the loan the soonest possible, stay liquid rather than fixed (assets), not lend any assets to anyone anymore even with one’s emergency reason. I stubbornly disagreed with last one.

And she said all should be done soon because 2023 seems gloomy.

I didn’t take her words until watching a bunch of YouTube videos about financial analysis and forecast by experts and practitioners for the past two years.

Not hoping the darkness happens but there is no harm to prepare the umbrella before it rains.

Please save us. Amen…

Library

Opening the door,
She finds books and thesaurus
Stacked high to the sky.

What else is this life mainly but library? Read your books! 💕

“Read your books” is excepted from one Quran verse “Read your records (the word kitabaka can also mean your books or your scrolls). You alone are sufficient this day to take account of yourself” that implies self observation, self evaluation, self assessment, self correction.

Ouch! An internal audit it is — becoming the auditor and the auditee: acting different roles in the same place using different points of view. Doable and sustainable! 😍

May all beings be happy.

library in Seoul! my colleague said it is located in the same area with our office – I’m ready to go! 😁
sent by a colleague this afternoon; ok then, I’m ready to be assigned there 🤤 – Korea was never in my bucket list but this beautiful place has confirmed it now is! 😍

A Whole

A hole curls sweetly
As a center of a whole.
Delicious truth—

what is one? one slice? one plate of apple slices? one unsliced apple?

Loud & Clear Sign

Loud enough and clear—
Thunder strikes and rain begins.
Children play outside.

Your signs are well read, well noted, well understood. Well…. 😎

today’s lunch: it is what is called good sign! 😁 tempe is a good sign that high quality and quantity protein is as affordable as fermented soybeans

The Space

She be, Beloved,
The space not the furniture,
Lets all come and go.

If only maturity could be implanted like nose or breast or whatever, I would still choose to get mature naturally through ageing and weakening although it takes almost half of century of struggling and pain to find only its gate. Damn late!

One maturity breakthrough of my life was when realising I should be more a “space human being” (my teacher calls it “room human being”) rather than a “furniture human being”.

Salaam….

a hey from the space to bodies floating in it 😘

Come True

Come true, Beloved,
Wishes colouring this life,
Bringing love and joy—

My mini daruma dolls package arrived from Japan. Now it is time to make wishes and draw the left eye.

May all beings be happy!

arriving from trip then checking the mail box at the basement this afternoon and found these package among all letters and magazines! 🥰
each colour has meaning! quickly copied them! (ignore the ugly handwriting 😁) now let’s make wishes and paint their left eye 🧿 then let them take a rest in the box to open and be drawn right eye when the wishes come true 😎

Luxury

Luxurious is tea,
Detaching from everyone
But not everything—

terima kasih, Abu Marlo beserta para guru di 499 episode Dialogue Positive – you are all blessed!

Clear Sky (ranting)

Clear sky, Beloved,
Calm blue where clouds swim, birds fly
Under the warm sun—

Javanese live their life with meaning and that makes them “effortlessly” survive even in the hardest time. They pin meaning to everything they experience. I believe Javanese are naturally philosophers whose communal humble life is richly loaded with wisdom; unfortunately fading away by the time.

Meanings easily recognised by most Javanese are those pinned to batik method and patterns. Historically batik patterns were works of art composed by either scholars from padepokan (ashram in Sanskrit) or the royals (king, queen, prince, princess or royal artists). In fact, there were few batik patterns created by commoners such as batik nitik and batik kawungKawung is one of the oldest original patterns of Javanese batik which has existed since 12th century. Nitik was born younger, approximately in 19th century.

Fun fact about Javanese king: aside from courses of political knowledge, leadership, palace management etc, long time before his coronation a Javanese crown prince must completely compose 3 works of art and publicly present them to the board of senior royals then announced the art pieces to people in the kingdom. Those three are batik pattern whose batik is handmade by him, tembang/kidung (sacred Javanese song) sung by him; and bedhaya dance trained to the dancers by him (a solemn Javanese dance performed by a group of dancers).

While batik nitik was initially created as secret codes by commoners to circulate among them classified information kept hidden from unjust aristocrats at that time or from the enemies (some historians said though this pattern was composed by the royals); kawung was allegedly created by a mother to dress her son who was instructed by the king to join his exclusive team due to his outstanding skill of espionage and balanced state of mind (again the historians said this pattern was composed by the royals). The said mother made a sheet of kawung pattern for him before he left as a prayer that her son could keep his current quality even after he later lived among (socially, politically, professionally) higher rank people.

kawung aka kolang-kaling, two seeds, four half-chambers (from Pinterest)

Kawung is the Javanese word of sugar palm (kolang-kaling). The symmetrical four half chambers in a fruit are used to symbolise balanced state among physical, mental, intellectual and spiritual. The clear colour of the seed is borrowed to symbolise clarity: of conscious mind, of conscious decisions, of intension, of purpose and of actions.

People also relate the word kawung to suwung that can mean emptiness: in this matter suwung is more about self alignment, absence of sense-driven wanting. A person in this suwung state in positive interpretation means someone who is already free from his/her craving for worldly interests, s/he is able to calmly and consciously prioritise among physical, mental, intellectual and spiritual proportions with no doubt or confusion. S/he is in high level of awareness of a “perfect” human being.

In Java region that kind of person is not necessarily a saint or a priest or a bikhu(ni) or a nun; s/he might be a farmer, a batik maker, a herbal seller, a taxi driver, an employee, a housewife, a leader etc, just whoever is willing to self align through what they do everyday regardless their professions. Not a few of them were “bad” people hearing the inner calling, deciding to quit their wrong doings and living “new” life.

At younger age, I met more of that type around us in my hometown. Now fewer and fewer people are interested to achieve that level because life pace is now becoming faster with the “tsunami of information” and life needs are “forcing” people to be constantly in alert mode with the high competition to “survive certain life style”. 

Not much I can do this time. I try to breath more slowly, pay attention on shift of emotions through body reaction (my body will never betray me) then acknowledge the emotion whatever it is. Time flies like a wind sometimes like a storm, I choose to ride it, not to get dragged by it. Not easy but doable.

How light this head is after ranting! 

batik kawung beton crafted by Mbak Arifah (25 yo), a mute-deaf female who never goes to school but is able to write and read – thank you, Mbak Arifah
primissima cotton, 250*106cm, two sided
Fun fact about the honourable batik makers:
- Once a batik maker pulls the “canting” filled with hot wax on a sheet of fabric, it will start developing lines or dots as the hot wax gets dry fast and block the fabric. That is why they work very carefully to avoid unplanned error. Correcting unplanned error is more tedious in batik making process compared to drawing the patterns with canting. Zero accident policy applies.
- Batik making is a highly contemplative activity (almost) like meditation. That is what makes many of batik makers especially those senior and/or with high quality artisanal works have good self alignment.
- Some batik makers don’t need to draw the planned pattern with pencil on the fabric. They are the highly skilled, the artist, the master of what they are doing.
- It takes approximately 5 months to complete a piece of two sided hand-made batik of 210-250cm long. Those batik makers also do household chores in between their batik making activities as they mostly don’t earn good money. If you buy hand made batik, please give extra dollars to share some comfort.
- Majority of batik makers are female. Very few of them are young.
at workshop (from Pinterest)
at home (from Pinterest)

Sweet Surprise

Unforeseen, unplanned—
Life’s rich: men, events, chances
Bring moments of truth.

This evening I met up with two Saigonese friends— not planned, not predicted. We sent each other messages and found that we three were in Hanoi and decided to have dinner together.

OP’s coffee with milk, LP’s coconut coffee, my black coffee 🥰

His message to me: “I’ll pick you up once you’re prepared”. Her message to me: “Let me know when you arrive at hotel, I’ll kidnap you”. And they both came in the same taxi with different intension. 😁

For years we have always wanted to meet in Ho Chi Minh City to eat south pho bo and life preferred pulling us together in Hanoi for north pho bo.

Hanoi pho – sweeter, no ngogai leaves (Javanese coriander) and slightly murky, good especially enjoyed with friends 😍

A happy rendezvous! All was good. The only minus was that I had much noodle as part of dinner. 🙃 See you in HCMC!

I hope to get other sweet surprises. Or at least I commit to feel good no matter what so any surprises will be sweet.

Salaam.

sweet surprise story shared to me: he was a medical doctor before a major accident that took away some of his physical ability and his job; now he is a part time historian bringing tourists to historical places in Hanoi in the evening and a full time employee in a pharmaceutical company in the day; recently he escorted a surgeon with his wife doing social work in Vietnam who happens to be in the same project with a Vietnamese surgeon who happens to be this historian’s roommate in medical school years ago; long story short what life brings is often unpredictable, hope for the best! 🙏🏼