What are you, my love? Keris, scissors, needle, knife? Whichever, be sharp.
β
One young scholar once said βLet the old self of yours die, live as a renewed self every day and you will fall in love with yourself not because you feel more beautiful or better but because you know you are more and more authentic.β
Thank you!
kerisluk 9 – in Javanese wisdom number 9 is spiritually associated with 9 doors of senses and desires in human beingβs body (two ears, two eyes, two nostrils, mouth, genitalia and rectum) that should be cared for whatever is fed in and discharged; in this wisdom those succeeding to responsibly manage the 9 will be granted good life physically, mentally and spiritually – ππΌ this keris luk 9 is usually favoured and owned as a sacred symbol by traditional Javanese who wants to focus on keeping oneβs 9 doors of senses/desires responsibly managed
Peaceful, Beloved, Sitting remembering you In this sweet silenceβ
β
Sometimes just donβt get it why Japanese is like that but now accepting it as it is a culture with which a nation is built and shaped based on nature and history; like a Korean being a Korean, a Javanese being a Javanese, an English being an English, a Vietnamese being a Vietnamese, etc. As long as it doesnβt disturb loyalty and integrity, itβs ok. π₯°
Komoro, Japan: it was my first time seeing things were for sale but no seller was present, buyers just put the money in an open box for what was taken; in my country some people would probably take more than what they pay π€it looks not so pretty, but trust me these roses were super duper sweetly fragrant! missing Komoro but I know I will only go there next year – the most βulu-uluβ place I visited in Japan π
Artist, Beloved, Proportional and perfect? No. Flowing riverβ
β
When someone is so much a master of something that no labels or names of techniques are needed to pinpoint what s/heβs doing to perfect completion, s/he be an artist.
When will this human being be the artist of her own life? At least the artist of her own breathingβ¦. It takes not only talent for her to become an artist, maybe she needs courage to be wrongly perceived! Maybe she should be at least misunderstood that she seldom breathes right?
π
Salaam.
saw this artist drawing in Louvre Museum, at that time I didnβt even think it was possible as I didnβt even draw a flower nicely; it would be a shame if people saw my ugly drawing π next visit Iβll do it although I still donβt draw flowers nicelyπ
Forbidden city not. Imaginary power Ruined through historyβ
β
Whatβs built on weak foundation will collapse. Lies, betrayal, tyranny, iniquity adorn the strong marble slabs and zhennan wood logs, remembered through time.
Life is undeniably karmic: what is sown is what is reaped.
So satisfying to see time reveals the truth!
Salaam.
part of the Forbidden City – Beijing gave me an extraordinary time of legal short course, first snow flake of my life + of that winter and debris of horrible history ππΌ
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
farmhouse where participants and volunteers slept during the βSelf Discoveryβ in Chisholme Institute (there are male house, female house and couple wing) – missing the place and good friends there π
the main house where we meditate, contemplate, brainstorm, do household chores, enjoy meal and good company during the βSelf Discoveryβ
βThe Monument to Manβ: this place is one of reminders for me to stay on this track: a track where life abundance isnβt always represented by or captured through social high class and luxury show off – βve lived among those with abundance yet humbly bowing to the underprivileged – thank you for this decent life π
hi, Edinburgh! Iβm sure Iβll be back π₯° next time with someone I love with heart and soul π
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
torii from pp #31 of James Norburyβs βBig Panda and Tiny Dragonβ
Negative, Beloved, New paradigm that builds life; Breathing is blessings.
β
I thought that virus was reluctant to approach me until that funny doctor said bitterly to me last week βThe Gov will SMS directly to you but these sudden symptoms give me a hint. Take care.β
After some inconsistent (+) and (-), being a lethargic patient (the virus pulled all muscles down) and a slow thinker (MZ sent me a confusing email of mine) of home quarantine, Iβm back to my own self!
Thanks for toning this pride down. I was not that healthy.
Thanks for curing me. Iβm dependent on You.
π
hey, Mr Sun! I wanna go out everyday just like you if the next is (-) once more!
Shanghai, Beloved, A pearl wrapped in gloomy smog, A dream with no sleepβ
β
Dear World, youβll get better. Or else, please hide your ugly faces from me for just a while.
Sending warm regards to MZ, RL and other Shanghainese ladies that I know in the modern Shanghai.
Happy weekend!
May all beings be happy.
π
Shanghai, used to walk in its cold lanes in Decembers, listen to Chinese senior citizens laughing while dancing in the public dancing floor, walk back to hotel with tummy full of food and heart full of joy and head full of next yearβs plans – now Shanghai is a hello at the end of the line
Nowhere, Beloved, To depart. Wait for next train. Look around and pray.
β
Checking my old photos, I saw an almost forgotten one. A station that was giving me the most alarming experience in that trip.
Back in April 2017 I was in a solo travel for 20 days in EU region when the train from Lyon left me no choice but changing train in Bourg-en-Bresse. It was rainy and windy, almost 5pm local time, some passengers got off with me but all of them went out of the station (perhaps to go home) and only I stayed to wait for the next train at 7:15pm.
For almost 45 minutes and no one was coming. A group of young men entered the other side of the railway. They sounded chatting and giggling. I tried to avoid looking at them. It was my first time feeling insecure in the trip.
I continued reading my book (now pretending) as I felt so uneasy with the noise across the lines.
βHi! Lady!β I looked around. No woman but me. Damn! They called me.
I didnβt say anything, my eyes looked back to my book.
βHi! Hi!β Donβt say anything, Rike. Donβt look at them. My left hand slowly moved down to my Swiss knife in the inner pocket of the jacket.
Only prayer in heart and some strategies that were taught by my brothers on how to use the Swiss knife and simple kicks to defend myself from bad guys.
βLady!β They shouted at me more loudly after some time.
βLady!β The guys laughed out loud among their French words. I saw them waved their hands to me. They whistled at me. I wondered why no one was here but those guys. In my country there are always many people selling things around railway station. There are always tricycle riders moving around.
When those guys got even merrier and happier, I saw a shadow moved the tall doors behind the guys.
A tall black lady drew a trunk and went across line 1 to line 2 and to line 3 where I was almost ready to hurt any of the guys if they approached me.
The guys stopped their noise. The lady walked towards me.
I didnβt feel better. This lady could stop the guysβ laughters and whistles, she must have been able to do stronger thing than that including killing meβ I had to be alert!
βHi! Going to Geneva?β A soft voice greeted me.
βHi! Ya! Are you?β
βYes! The train will arrive soon.β
βThanks God!β
βNo, it is just the schedule.β
π
We eventually were sitting in the same cart. She was working in the UN headquarters and traveled back from personal leave. She said I was lucky to take this train, not later one that might have made me encounter with more men in the station unluckily often drunk.
βThanks God!β
βNo, you just need to choose the right timing.β
π
I almost forgot that I met this smart wise tough lady. Wherever you are, Madam, I wish you good luck! Thank you for saving me with your timeliness.
Yet dimensions have distanced us with invisible connection.
Ohβ¦. How I Miss You So
Only wish and pray I can send through speechless wireless across the elements.
Ohβ¦. How I Miss You So
Dream, dream, dream, dear love. Life is but a dream. I hope we visit each other In each of our good dreams, Before we wake up and together we stream.
Ohβ¦. How I Miss You So
It doesnβt matter and it doesnβt count Even how I miss you most; like a tiny penny in a billionaireβs account: Missed and forgotten through space and time.
Ohβ¦. How I Miss You So
It rains again which I love the most As the longing for you gets swept away By the water falling and gliding on the window: sweetly cold.
Ohβ¦. How I Miss You So β¦.
Yet this stubborn heart Still sings in silence Alone with clear sweet voice Without doubt That someday this feeling will fade away, Leaving a good memory through time and space.
Listen, this is an ode To a secret love:
Ohβ¦. How I Miss You So β
β
daydreaming in a rainy day – RC Gormanβs βWoman with Poppiesβ
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!
what a coincidence! this number is really escorting me this year
πdidnβt attend this yearβs flag-raising ceremony in the embassy because of this cute virus π next year I will, bismillah!
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.
Journey, Beloved, Counting every blessed milestone; Deletion of doubtsβ
β
My personal definition of Australia: where beer is consumed more than water. It might be wrong to others but that was what I saw with these very eyes with no doubt. π
One, two, three, four, five, β¦.. 30%. You happy? Please like and comment!
π
β
Todayβs conversation was quite hot. One insisted number of βlikeβ is significant, the other one insisted the other way around. My best friend and I found that we get high number of likes in Instagram when uploading pictures of our latest look. Both of us can get βlikesβ around 20-25% of number of followers. She does pay attention to it, she even puts a hashtag of βlikeforlikeβ; I donβt always check, not even bother myself to reply to comments except from those who are characteristically honest and accurate; liking comment is good enough. Sorryβ¦.
BF: Look! This picture of yours get high number of likes. So you should pose like this. You should wear these earrings. You should comb your hair to the other side.
BF: Hey! Look at my recent picture. People like when I wear this colour.
BF: You have beautiful eyes. Show them to the world!
BF: Why my hair looks like this?
BF: Donβt wear this dress again. Wear the one you bought with me!
Me: βeeekkk!β
Having a good friend who pays attention to my look is a blessing yet giving me goosebump. I feel so loved and reminded to always look perfect yet my thought of how she selects pictures or videos before uploading is rather overwhelming. π
BF: Change your profile picture! You look messy!
Me: Iβm decent! Not necessarily gorgeous butβ¦.
BF: What? Clean, tidy and fragrant? People only use their eyes in Instagram. They donβt care whether you are truly clean and tidy or smell sweet or not! They donβt even care if you are truly happy or not!
Me: I love you so much but please unfollow meβ¦. π΄
BF: &@β)(/#%Β₯Β£β¬><| π€ͺπ
Note to myself: Why is this best friend accurate about many people?
best picture to upload! good for everyoneβs sight π
Aug 10, 10 years ago migrating from multiply – multiply was like a party of young heads, this one feels like a home where only chosen best people are visiting – there is always time for everything π
Anniversary, Happy! Thank you, second home. Row, row, row your boat.
β
Thank you for becoming my shelter and taking care of me.
Singapuraβ National Daya view of my nesta view of todayβs stairs toward workplacea view of my tracka view from Japanese classrooma view of home back there
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