graphs of my Universe
Torii, Beloved,
Opening from here to here
To be entered now—
—
I’ll 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.
💝
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 papa…. 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 heart—
—
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.
I’ll take your broken clay jar to kintsugi craftsmen in near future trip just in case they can also repair broken clay jar. 🤭
Otherwise, I’ll 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.
Salam…. 🙏🏼
7, Beloved,
Oceans, mountains and heavens
Represent this joy!
—
Can’t move on from number 7. Thanks so much! 💝
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!
I’m brave!
Don’t try me!
I am….
Brave!
—
This love has a source
And so flowing with no stop
A blissful journey—
—
Blessed with bliss
Balance, Beloved,
Steadily walking with you
Enjoying the sway—
—
When she is perfectly poised, life serves her the best.
Thank you!
Listen, Beloved,
Humming angels keep singing
Song of union.
Ears can’t 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 meadow—
Listen, Beloved.
—
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.
—practicing listening mode on—
Some beats, Beloved!
Let’s dance under this night rain!
Gotta get thru this!
💃🏽
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 what’s-nots
To know
The what-is.
We decide
Which space
To be filled
With what.
This is about love—
An unlimited edition
But still
Difficult to grab.
—
Mr Sun’s hiding
Behind curtains of colours.
This brain cheats the eyes.
—
Ah! What is before these eyes isn’t always what is. It doesn’t matter; although it is not what is, it is still what is when it is clear what is not.
Bumpy road of saying no before finally saying yes is a long battle, a long journey to win the best throne of this heart. Know it and accept it.
Salaam. 💝
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.
—
Indeed a name isn’t a true ID. The ID is more than just the given name.
This love, Beloved,
A battle to win the heart
Zooming in and out—
—
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.
💝
Wishing, Beloved,
Upon a star where dreams sit
Waiting to be picked
One by one to the bucket
Before the steps reach the home—
—
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 later— 🤗
Some dreams can’t even be described…. You are as near as far away…. 🙃
Happy weekend. Oops long weekend.
Counting beads of pray,
An echoed name flows away
Through silence of heart.
—
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 existence—
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.
—
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)
Deep dive, Beloved,
To where soft bodies guard light
Wisdom of the dark
—
Nowhere is better than within, where price tag is no longer a concern, where silence and acceptance is currency, where no one looks evil or harmless, where only gratitude and peace reside, where no colour distracts, where pain and joy are blended to ecstatic reality….
….where I finally get sleepy 😁
Salaam.
Welcome, Beloved,
To where you belong. The home
That keeps missing you.
—
They are welcoming me home with love ♥️
Hungry, Beloved,
For love yet the bucket’s full.
The love though won’t stop.
—
Was so hungry! Hungry or greedy me? Maybe greedy but just couldn’t tell people “I’m greedy I could eat a horse”. 🤤
Your sketch, Beloved,
Done, undone, done, undone for
Perfect silhouette—
—
Your look in this mind. More or less—
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?
—
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.
—
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 I’m 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. 💝
Love at the first sight
To what’s captured by senses
And stays in the heart—
—
One beloved person called me asking why I didn’t attend a nephew’s wedding party yesterday. I said I couldn’t as I’ve been physically “beaten up” because of an accident recently. After what happened, sorry and better be careful, don’t go biking at night, wear the right shoes; she started ranting….
“What 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 don’t seem to care. You’d better find one man and get married and they will attend your wedding party with all love and gifts.”
“Not my priority”, I said.
“What is your priority? Your work? Your dream? What?”
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 don’t seem to have problems for not getting married. We are mentally and financially stable. 😁
“Ok, tell me I’ll find one. I know you won’t want one like your last. Tell me.”
“Sexually straight and not abusive in any way possible.”
“That’s 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.”
Alamak….
Weekend still goes well. And I’m happily looking forward to another week.
Life is a mystery, and so is love. I love my life and I don’t worry. 🥰
the right place possible – Jun. 19, 2022/17:12
Gemstones, Beloved,
Beautiful, shiny, precious—
Mind! You’re still a stone.
—
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 “wasted” 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. Don’t tell, let the true eyes see the true you. Sheer beauty! Don’t 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. 💝
Thank you, Beloved.
Blueprint, Beloved,
Life in black and white. Colour!
With meanings and vibes—
—
Happy life is a sketch before coloured. The same sketch in the hands of different human beings can have different colour composition that bring different vibes and nuance. Neuroscientist’s perspective of happiness is different from artist’s. The haves’ perspective of happiness is different from the have nots’. A wanderer’s perspective of happiness is different from a homebody’s. Et cetera…
Yet it is still happiness in its original design.
It is a feel of happiness when I shed tears then realising that life is more than crying on failure or accidents; life is seeing failure or accidents as blessings. Imagine how happy a person was knowing that she was late for boarding losing mega business opportunity then after that learning that the plane she was supposed to board crashed in which all passengers were dead. A blessing in disguise! Life is more precious than any business!
Thank you for this subtle reminder about putting some bright colours where dreary feeling resides.
Baby step to grow wiser…. Very slow but I’m sure I’ll be a wise old lady. 😁 Hey, hey! Don’t forget to dye your hair!
Which one, Beloved?
To love? To be loved? Any—
As long as it’s true.
—
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.
💝
Fine lines, Beloved,
Show how much and deep her love is
To life and its vibes.
—
I am seriously getting and looking older. It doesn’t matter. I love being me changing physically and growing mentally. 💝
Coffee, Beloved,
Brings back the fragrance of breeze
From the green high land.
—-
I drink coffee but am not a big fan of it. Fragrance of raw coffee beans, coffee cherries, coffee leaves, coffee flowers, coffee trees are much more lovable to these nostrils. Last 2019 visit to my uncle and aunt’s home in Menoreh Hill has always been a fresh fragrant memory; it is because the coffee fragrance would welcome us in the morning when wind blowing down the hill through the window sills.
Along the path up the hill going to our grandparents’ graveyards these hands would playfully pull some coffee leaves or coffee cherries, squeeze them and breathe the aroma in. My cousins and nieces would do the same. We would throw them to the dogs jumping around as playful as the owners.
Miss that green high land, where my ancestors started their humble legends—
Wind, fly me. 🛫
Salaam.
Stories, Beloved,
Chronological events
With no emotion
She puts meanings and settings
To characters in action.
—
I like poems loaded with love even when it is not love stories according to my friends. To me all stories are potential love stories.
I couldn’t find my left green sock and a poem about losing a beloved one was born. My kitchen lamp was blinking before switched off for good, a poem about a lover moving on after struggling reaching out to the beloved. Yet real broken heart helped me develop poems about how a heart shape blinks from white to blue to red to black before fading away.
Everything is love story between a lover and beloved. Of left and right socks. Of dark and light. Of hope and fear. Of head and heart. Of missing you and hating you. Of everything and nothing. Of me and my beloved that constantly changeable among me, you and them.
Mystery? Cheesy? It doesn’t matter. It helps me relax yet focus. ♥️
Life is all romance through these eyes. Wish that they remain with romantic lenses until life shows its true romanticism at the end of the journey—
😚
00:00
Winter, Beloved,
As white as wishes whistling
Through poems and prayers.
—
Damascus steel cuts silk. Drips of water punch the rocks. Wind caresses the sands. Breeze sways the twigs and ushers the leaves to land on the ground. Snowflake falls one by one wrapping the ground to doze off. With eloquent silence they make things happen.
How can I say about language ….except that it is as subtly powerful as nature, or even much more with its ability to transform or transmigrate whatever is in the hands, head and heart—
Whistle to me, Winter. These ears are frozen and distant but this soul is as warm and fragrant as jasmine tea.
Monday, thank you for being nice to me. Tuesday, I know you are too. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, be, too.
Salaam.
Singapore – Jun. 13, 2022 / 11:02pm
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