A beautiful view
Conjured by moon, sunk by sun.
It feels faraway,
A dissipating shadow.
At least I dream about you.
β
Sunday, did you conspire with the sun to snap my dream? Never mind. Iβll call the moon again to get it back. π
Happy Sunday!

graphs of my Universe
A beautiful view
Conjured by moon, sunk by sun.
It feels faraway,
A dissipating shadow.
At least I dream about you.
β
Sunday, did you conspire with the sun to snap my dream? Never mind. Iβll call the moon again to get it back. π
Happy Sunday!

Your name, Beloved:
Air blanketing fragrant space,
Soil firming the stanceβ
β
Shakespeare said βWhatβs in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.β
He isnβt wrong. Yet he isnβt always right.
I call a name when rain is sweetly pouring down, call another name when day is scorching too bright and hotβ¦.
Why is it easier to call your name than my own? Is your name so strongly rooted that only it I can remember when it rains? Is it your name or is it you that stays with me?
Oh youβ¦.
Oh your nameβ¦.
Salaam.

The depth of silence is
As deep
As ocean of possibilities.
Shaken, the ocean will splash
Drops of gifts.
Time once revealed
When the gifts will appear.
It once said
There is a moment in time.
Space once revealed
Where the gifts will arrive.
It once said
There is a point in space.
Spacetime once revealed
Why the gifts will engender.
It once said
There are reasons in life:
Unfortunately wrapped
In colours and shapes,
Often times disguising things:
A crow into a dove,
A wolf into a sheep,
A dumpsite into a garden,
A villainess into a heroine,
An evil witch into a kind queen,
Bent into straightβ
Misleading this travelerβs direction.
Once it was said
There is
One
That she will find
Somewhere some time only if
She minds.
Dear, Light.
Only
You can reveal
True colours
True shapes
True hearts
True reasons.
Be deeply silent
Even in the crowd
Where ocean of possibilities
Is shaken
In this spacious time.
Hey!
The gift is relatively fair, Beloved.
Be ready.
β
π

The top, Beloved,
Only with you I go there.
Others are wasted.
β
Others are wasted.

Point zero, my love
Here now, unshakeable ground
After the earthquakesβ
β
Iβve been a full time thinker for the past one weekβ¦. Thanks to the physical weakness brought by the virus! π₯° And here is the ranting abridged π
Life has always suggested me to walk through places where paradoxical situations exist and has made me weigh what life path should be chosen. Luckily life has always sent me angels (fallen angels included π) who remind me that life isnβt only about exploiting whatβs considered lucrative and physically pleasant; itβs also about exploring whatβs wising-up and spiritually enriching.
When I was young; books, courses, lectures, workshops were kind of βsubscriptionβ I had to shape a level of mental toughness. Yet there was exhaustion and anti-climax for intensity every now and then (good deed included π). Losing faith, difficulty to trust human beings and skepticism to almost everything triggered me to deconstruct my own mindset.
Another βpoint zeroβ came and brought a decision to take a course inspired by one friend named Eva (not one of my close friends but she is definitely one trusted human being). I promised to myself that this would be my LAST course to finally be unshakeable me.
I flew to Edinburgh and was driven from the airport to a place called Chisholme House by Mr Brix who became an excellent opening of my self re-discovery. He introduced me to the richness of self re-discovery even before the course started. That was when I felt so lucky to have read Ibn Arabi, Rumi and English literature although not extensively and to have learnt Javanese wisdom that is considered βlocalβ by many of my friends (which I always disagree) as Mr Brixβ languages were using all those keywords in the repertoire from my literature reading and cultural wisdom. Indeed Mr Brix was a βgateβ welcoming me to a true friendship or fellowship bonded by humanity.
The course was simply daily schedules for us to an experiencing life or βhuman beings who workβ β physically, mentally, spiritually, socially in connection with their own self, other human beings and nature. Of course the classes was the superb! Collins, Hiroko and Aaron were excellent facilitators and to me they are role models of ordinary yet impressive human being! Collins was a loving husband and father cum the best administrator. Hiroko was a loving mother and wife cum an excellent painter! Aaron was an excellent chef cum wise philosopher! π
It was so normal a life that I felt so blessed. We woke up in the morning then took a bath or at least took ablution. We started the day with a group meditation β everyone: the course participants, kitchen staffs, office staffs, garden staffs, etc except those who overslept. Then we had breakfast β English breakfast! After that we started the class; the staffs started their duties. After that we had tea break then WORK! Work meant doing the assigned chores (garden, kitchen, house, laundry). After that class again then English lunch! Then lunch break for one hour. Class again. Mediation again. Work again. Afternoon tea. Personal time (we could go to the hill, forest, sleep, talk to staffs or participants, whatever). English dinner. Discussion time. Free time. Sleepβ¦. Repeat.
Completing the βself re-discoveryβ, I found that life is like riding bicycle, balancing while moving. I lose, I win. I fall in love, I break heart. I get sick, I get cured. I trust, I distrust. I think, I feel. I work, I take a rest.
Balancing is about knowing the limit. I lose against someone/something but I gain wisdom. I fall in love at the same time I have to accept the unpredictable responses. I get sick then I will be cured. I trust with or without reasoning yet can also distrust because of the true or false reasoning. I think based on logic yet when logic doesnβt count, only feeling of acceptance will neutralise the situation. And, when I am tired, I should take time-out. Just like that!
And I actually graduated with flying colours from many βextraβ lessons: doing laundry, washing dishes, house keeping, potato harvesting, making bread, cooking English lunch, preparing dining table, raking dry leaves, going up and down the hills in the rain, walking in the moorland, listening to silence, listening to othersβ opinions, identifying and recognising true intelligent people, trusting the right people at the right time in the right place, respecting stupid idiot (myself included π), taking a bath in the cold morning, and more and more!
And yes, that was the last course in my life. Ordinary yet impressive, like what I always want myself to be to and for those having in touch with me.
I want to be back there not as a participant but as a guest in the English breakfast or lunch bringing a best friend who deserves an ordinary yet impressive life.
β¦. π
Thanks for today! π΄
Salaamβ¦
β




Torii, Beloved,
Opening from here to here
To be entered nowβ
β
Iβll always make tomorrow morning inevitable in life like a torii that connects here now and another here now. These happy steps are walking from torii to torii, with another pair of steps inevitably aligning with me.
Salaam.
π

Duhai, Indonesia. Serupa apapun engkau, kau adalah tempat lahirku. Walaupun saran dan nasehat bertaburan untuk menjadi pemegang status PR di rumah keduaku ini, aku tak goyah. Nggak papaβ¦. PR atau bukan PR passport-ku tetap Indonesia. Hanya cinta dan hidup-mati saja yang boleh membuatku jadi PR atau pindah kewarganegaraan. Selain itu, no way!
Indonesiaku, terima-kasih telah menjadi tempat lahirku dan tempatku belajar hal-hal pokok untuk menjadi manusia utama. Kalau aku dilahirkan dan dibesarkan di negara lain, mungkin aku jadi orang yang bermewah-mewah dan tidak down to earth.
Indonesiaku, kemanapun aku pergi, kamulah darah yang mengalir di tubuh ini. Dimanapun aku tinggal, engkau tetap menjadi tujuan pertama pulang atau liburanku (ya setahun satu atau dua kali deh). Dengan siapapun aku bergaul, kamu tetap warna primerku.
Kecintaanku padamu bukan pada para pejabat buruk yang mengurusi ketatanegaraan. Kecintaanku tulus pada tanah, air, udara, rakyat dan makhluk di sekitarnnya.
Merdeka!


Broken clay jar, Love,
A love letter torn apart.
Message of a heartβ
β
How broken you are, I will always love and respect you as a clay jar that records history and memory, in the hands of an ignorant they become waste and rubbish, in the hands of wise lessons and wisdom.
Iβll take your broken clay jar to kintsugi craftsmen in near future trip just in case they can also repair broken clay jar. π€
Otherwise, Iβll keep it in my mini cabinet of curiosity to be a reminder that a heart is so fragile or so broken and so worth handling with care.
Salamβ¦. ππΌ

7, Beloved,
Oceans, mountains and heavens
Represent this joy!
β
Canβt move on from number 7. Thanks so much! π
I will win
In any battle.
My flag is rising
As high as the farthest star
Reaching you
Bravely!
In me is a girl who dares!
Iβm brave!
Donβt try me!
I amβ¦.
Brave!
β
Nocturne, Beloved,
Desert at velvety nights;
Her hair is waving,
Where pitch and rhythm dangle
Sprinkling tones of a warm heart
β
Night is a sweet shelter that never complains whether I snore or sing or cry or laugh or play or work or just sit on the window nook.
Sereneβ¦.

Listen, Beloved,
Humming angels keep singing
Song of union.
Ears canβt hear, too low a voice.
Heart can, swayed by the wind though.
Root deep, Beloved.
The song vibrates in the earth,
Making grass and flowers bloom,
Brightening up the meadowβ
Listen, Beloved.
β
It takes enormous patience to listen to the silence. Hey! Is it being patient or simply allowing quietness to sit where birds and monkeys are hopping and making noise?
Listening is a skill. A skill needs practices to mastery. Mastery takes time. Time takes breathing, in, out, with awareness.
βpracticing listening mode onβ

A lady is walking to the lake.
An empty clay jar sits on her waist.
Her hair is hanging loose,
Listening to love songs, waving to the sky.
Sitting, she looks down
Saying hi to her reflection on and on.
My hair, thanks for growing long
And for listening to my love songs.
A lady is walking back to home.
A clay jar full of water sits on her waist.
Her hair is waving by the wind:
Spreading patchouli fragrance, calming down the lane.
Walking, she looks forward
Humming her best love songs.
My hair, thanks for spreading good scent
And making my life so fragrant.
My hair, thanks for being silken
And keeping this flame ardent.
My hair, grow grow long.
My hair, listen to these love songs.
My hair, stay here
Until home is welcoming me.
β
Each and every one deserves love and appreciation. Today I took longer time to scrutinise and caress my hair; this stubborn tough protein deserves love and appreciation, too.
A hymn for my hair is not too much, an extra love after shampoo to clean, conditioner to soften and sometimes hair dye to match the mood.

Some beats, Beloved!
Letβs dance under this night rain!
Gotta get thru this!
ππ½
Ending one week to start another with a favourite song by two favourite singers!
Love makes heart full.
Love makes heart empty.
Love makes heart laugh.
Love makes heart cry.
Love makes heart closer.
Love makes heart distant.
Love makes heart trust.
Love makes heart distrust.
Love makes heart bloom.
Love makes heart wither.
Love makes heart healed.
Love makes heart broken.
Love makes heart warm.
Love makes heart cold.
Love makes heart enlightened.
Love makes heart blinded.
Love makes heart beautiful.
Love makes heart wicked.
Love makes heart bright.
Love makes heart weary.
Love makes heart sing.
Love makes heart scold.
Love makes heart write love poem.
Love makes heart compose hate speech.
Love makes heart recite ballads.
Love makes heart scream hoax.
Love makes heart look foolish.
Love makes heart look angry.
Love makes heart love more.
Love makes heart hate more.
Love makes heart swing like a pendulum between two ends.
You say love is
You say love is not
You ask what is love
Love makes space
To those willing
To feel,
To taste,
To experience
Millions of whatβs-nots
To know
The what-is.
We decide
Which space
To be filled
With what.
This is about loveβ
An unlimited edition
But still
Difficult to grab.
β

Though not a true ID,
Your name ships all senses to
An existence.
A name that I spell slowly,
A name representing silence and unattendance,
Almost ignorance.
Is
Your name
A password
To where a gap between real and unreal resides?
Is
Your name
A padlock
With which a visitor busily matches the key?
Is
Your name
Sugar leaf
With which a cup of tea gets sweetened with its dissolving?
Is
Your name
Coffee powder
Which settles at the bottom of a cup after its releasing caffein and acidity?
Is
Your name
A myth
That resembles history?
Tell me
The story of
Your name.
Your name
That
I slowly spell
Every time
A face flickers
Around this nerve system.
β
Indeed a name isnβt a true ID. The ID is more than just the given name.
This love, Beloved,
A battle to win the heart
Zooming in and outβ
β
How distant are we? Never away, just the lines and dots that project substantial distance. Once perspective is well understood, near far is never an issue as all are cluster of objects in the same dimension.
Yet how well is perspective projection can be accepted by this foolish brain?
Not easy to do it well. It is to play the focal length. It is a long battle to win the heart; is it my heart? Or your heart? Or both? It depends on what the computation is based. Can only wish it is based on mathematics that contains literature for accuracy without beauty kills hope. And living without hope is walking zombie.
π

You
Have got everything:
A sweetest smile,
A cheery hello,
A loving look,
A warm hug,
A good kiss
All in loving care.
Yet in all daydreams of closeness and connectionβ¦.
I wish to give
You a warm kiss,
Yet impossible
As
You are too high
Up the sky;
I hope to give
You a pretty daffodil
Yet unlikely
As
You are too disguised
Behind the curtain;
I want to spread for
You a good breakfast
Yet too early
As
You wake up too late
In another day;
I want to paint
You a red torii
Yet too trivial
As
You know torii much
Better than me;
I am writing
You secret love poems
Yet in vain
As
You donβt even care
They exist.
Beloved,
Breath is with what I count life.
Breath is in what I save love.
Breath is on what I paint faith.
A warm kiss,
A pretty daffodil,
A good breakfast,
A red torii,
And secret love poems
Have livened this breathing
Although
You have got
A sweetest smile,
A cheery hello,
A loving look,
A warm hug,
A good kiss
All in loving care.
Beloved,
I only wish
You behind the curtain
See me breathing
For and with
You.
β
This long weekend of Eid Al-Adha is turning to brighter space with slow breathing, daydreaming and chili party.
Happy Eid Al-Adha, family and friends. Hope we are blessed with closeness and connection with the Source of Love.
Alhamdulillah π

Iβll send
You postcards.
Cards with white flower
On white paper
And some messages
On white ink
That will glow
When
You bring it to the dark.
Only
You and I know what it is
Until one day
You bring the light
To burn it or frame it.
β
Dear youβ¦. π

Wishing, Beloved,
Upon a star where dreams sit
Waiting to be picked
One by one to the bucket
Before the steps reach the homeβ
β
Many dreams look so much near. Places to go on earth displayed in Pinterest lengthen the list and be a good escape for mind every weekend before dosing off. Can only wish that the lengthened list lengthens the life, pushing the EOL later and laterβ π€
Some dreams canβt even be describedβ¦. You are as near as far awayβ¦. π
Happy weekend. Oops long weekend.

Counting beads of pray,
An echoed name flows away
Through silence of heart.
β
Have you ever prayed so silently? No one can hear. Only beads of pray click. A remembrance of love that is unseen. Beyond the ocean and beyond existenceβ
Literature is a limited tool to disclose ideas and emotions; not accurate enough to shoot one heart. Math is sharp to operate a complex equation; not sweet enough though to state naked truth.
With what then should I count this reality between two lovers? Beauty or precision?

Only beads of pray is whispered silently. Who knows the river will sail this soft voice along its flow introducing it to the estuary that escorts it to the ocean where winds push the current following the North Star to meet with you.
Salaam.
Sincerely,
from a tiny heart wrapped in a peaceful morning
Bouquet, Beloved,
A bunch of symbols arranged
Through fragrance and hues.
β
Amaryllis: strength and determination
Daffodil: honesty, truth and forgiveness
Eucalyptus: division of the underworld, earth and heaven (Aboriginal wisdom); inner and outer strength, leadership
Gladiolus: faithfulness and integrity
Lily of the valley: sincerity and joy
Sunflower: loyalty and unconditional love
Tendril: growth, softness, flexibility (Javanese wisdom)

Welcome, Beloved,
To where you belong. The home
That keeps missing you.
β
They are welcoming me home with love β₯οΈ






Hungry, Beloved,
For love yet the bucketβs full.
The love though wonβt stop.
β
Was so hungry! Hungry or greedy me? Maybe greedy but just couldnβt tell people βIβm greedy I could eat a horseβ. π€€


I see
You
In the clarity of evening lake.
I hear
You
Through the whispering midnight wind.
I touch
You
In the warm water I splash at the dawn.
I taste
You
In the green tea I sip in the morning bright.
I smell
You
In the best lunch of the day.
I feel
You
In this throbbing heart in the sweet twilight.
To
You
Across the ocean:
Your
Name is so real,
Why not
Your
Presence?
β
Love is
Unseen rope
Invisibly tying
Sparkling souls.
Love is
Interconnected network
Constantly connecting
All computers.
Love is
Moving air
Secretly exchanged
Through breathing.
Love is
An attached context
Building meaning
In a statement.
Love is
A medium
Conveying messages
To a ready recipient.
And what is not
Is not.
β
Years of experience has brought me to an understanding that subtle sensitivity is one of the keys to understanding, genuineness, boundary and security.
Welcome to genuine hearts. Good bye to tricky engagements.
Today Iβm in love again with those around me who never give up on my clumsiness and insensitivity and with myself who becomes more patient and acceptant.
Salaam. π

Love at the first sight
To whatβs captured by senses
And stays in the heartβ
β
One beloved person called me asking why I didnβt attend a nephewβs wedding party yesterday. I said I couldnβt as Iβve been physically βbeaten upβ because of an accident recently. After what happened, sorry and better be careful, donβt go biking at night, wear the right shoes; she started rantingβ¦.
βWhat are you looking for in life? Look at your nephews and nieces getting married one by one. They wish their best wishes for you but you donβt seem to care. Youβd better find one man and get married and they will attend your wedding party with all love and gifts.β
βNot my priorityβ, I said.
βWhat is your priority? Your work? Your dream? What?β
It is sometimes annoying to be a single woman in a society in which marriage is highly appreciated and considered as highway to happiness. I feel so lucky for living overseas away from those caring so much about me so I can enjoy my life the way I love to. Many of my single girl friends call me now and then telling me how tiring it is to answer the same questions again and again even when they donβt seem to have problems for not getting married. We are mentally and financially stable. π
βOk, tell me Iβll find one. I know you wonβt want one like your last. Tell me.β
βSexually straight and not abusive in any way possible.β
βThatβs easy! It is just you so difficult! Sometimes you just have to give up your priority or your love. I got married without love and it goes well. Many of us do and it goes well. Know that we worry about you.β
Alamakβ¦.
Weekend still goes well. And Iβm happily looking forward to another week.
Life is a mystery, and so is love. I love my life and I donβt worry. π₯°

the right place possible – Jun. 19, 2022/17:12
Gemstones, Beloved,
Beautiful, shiny, preciousβ
Mind! Youβre still a stone.
β
When you integrate, you at the same time disintegrate. Imagine what happens before a gemstone sits on a ring: a tumble stone, cut, polished, separated from dirt and rock. Often time most part of the tumble is βwastedβ for the sake of presenting a small carat of a bright semi precious or precious stone!
What gemstone are you? You might be a diamond in progress. Donβt tell, let the true eyes see the true you. Sheer beauty! Donβt take so long except you are willing to be a hidden treasure of the universe. Whatever your choice is – be true to yourself.
I want to be a diamond but I am not and so I will never be.
I am though grateful to have been created a less pricy one – it is precious to be given time to be what I am. Not more, not less, just right. I know and I accept it. π
Thank you, Beloved.




Which one, Beloved?
To love? To be loved? Anyβ
As long as itβs true.
β
There are times when you have no choice but giving or taking; no reciprocity whatsoever. And that is when you think it is not fair although that is not necessary to think of anything as long as it is true.
When it is time to give, just give like when you enjoy good unhealthy food. When it is time to take, just take like when you enjoy the healthful bland food. Easy but I have found it challenging in some way. I want balanced give and take, good and healthful.
Life is bitterly fair. To enjoy it, be true. Be true to yourself, my dear.
π


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