graphs of my Universe
If I can cry my soul,
It is only for
You.
I
Whose heart is made of
Silken nets miss
You.
I
Whose plane wanders
Circumambulate
You.
—
stillness that spins, noise that calms, memory that vanishes, emptiness that fulfils — all within
what’s missed has all been met at a point for a moment then time pulls the wanderer to keep the journey on and on like a subtle network full of signs and wisdom about the beloved
happy long weekend with no interruption
💕
If not because of
Love,
This soul won’t soar,
This heart won’t throb,
This head won’t radiate,
These palms won’t trust sensations.
If because of
Love all are alive,
And so
I fall in
Love
Every single
Day
With
You.
The same
You
Over and over
Again.
——
falling in love is everyday whole year like butternut squash 💕
picture: RC Gorman’s work of art
There are waves that breathe
Fanning the flame flickering
Eternally within.
——
RC Gorman’s work of art
Crowning black gets grey,
Surfing through tunnels of time.
There is no U-turn.
——
long, black with some grey showing — excited to have this long hair to caress ♥️
Fragrance of sambac
Ferries the wish to the love
Reborn with new scents.
——
The death of my beloved nephew at young age (22 yo) is one extreme turning point in how I see life and what is in it.
I am not sad anymore and not considering it a loss anymore. Just drying tears and grateful smiles so — remembering how good his life was. How someone with so big mental wound could survive life by serving others in such a fun witty ways. 🥰 We now know how much we loved him and how tremendously he loved us.
Yet….
reborn
not interested in talking in group except for work;
prefer seeing life more lightly yet deeply at the same time;
choose to seclude myself by doing what I can do genuinely; if not, I will stay away;
respond to human interaction differently and it might have hurt people in outer rings; it doesn’t matter
still the same human being yet not the same anymore;
so amazed how losing loved ones can change someone so significantly. And the reality shows me whom are real and unreal, true and untrue…. 💚
Life is mysteriously beautiful.
Thank You so very much!
Alfatihah.
my younger brother’s 1st son was a newborn death; my older brother’s sons: one died at 10, the other at 22 — wishing them to be reborn with love, prosperity and luck 💕😊 you’re (always) in my heart and (sometimes) at my left wrist, boys! 💕💕😊
Met
In a circle
Glowing
In their own lights.
No disco ball,
No loud music,
No expensive wine,
No trendy bar,
No dancing floor,
No smoke,
No things fancy,
No luxury,
None—
Oh!
They are not that innocent.
They gossip those funny facts,
They laugh at each others
And at others,
They munch baskets of food,
They drink gallons of water,
They sip wine to tipsy,
They speak loud and lots,
They enjoy some music,
They gather humbly.
They oopsy WE do it worse
Just differently from other decent parties.
Ordinary we—
—
A bird builds a nest in what its mother describes a home. Protection—
—
No one is truly detached from one’s root and that is a foundation that should not be shaken. Foundation is the last and foremost protecting part of a building. When others try to shake adult mature’s foundation principles, they are sooner or later surely destroying a construction that has been built carefully and systematically through parenting, education and culture especially in early age.
Still want to change your friends to be like what you want them to be? It is either killing them inside or killing you inside. Worse is both don’t realise that the other is dying or dead inside; even think there is a good change considered “a success to educate (wrong) friends”. Ah….! Illusion.
Solution? Eh? How would you treat a beautiful gift given to you? Don’t try changing others’ foundation principles. Instead accompany them grow to their best version as they are.
And for those not even appreciating their own or others’ roots: congratulations, you are doomed. Oops! I mean it takes longer time for you to reach true goals. 😁
Salaam.
💝
There’s fire kindled, prayer sung, fragrance bellowed in ceremony.
—
A white lamb on the lap of a dreamer daydreams of her dreaming sweet.
—
Romance is a dimmed space under a dome bedazzled with glowing stars.
—
Water, air and hair:
She draws figures and colours
To a sweet daydream.
—
My mother said
You were a cute baby
Even when crying.
My mother said
You were a beautiful toddler
Running around,
Bubbling all words.
My mother said
You were a cheerful girl
Cycling around
Climbing up trees
Playing drowning in the river.
My mother said
You were a beautiful woman
Arguing every ideas from me
Showing me your strong desires
Moving to where life brought us.
My mother said
You are an adult woman
Enjoying life differently from me
Giving me what you’ve promised to be
Loving what you love with no doubt
Living life with smiles and warm heart.
My mother said
I love you
I bless you
Wherever you are.
You’re loved
You’re blessed
However you are.
—
My mother called, we laughed a lot today. She said I laughed as I did when I was a baby. How happy I have been to be her daughter. Lots of hugs and kisses, Ibu.
Alfatihah.
💝
Clay art, Beloved,
Hugged by earth, hardened by sun
Livened by heaven—
—
In Java island clay was commonly used not only to make art work but also as material to make kitchenware, eating utensils, plant pots, etc. Kasongan, Yogyakarta is one of famous villages of clay work industry in which different types of clay art and utensils are mass produced or customised as per buyers’ request.
One clay utensil that I often used in my childhood was kendi, a clay jug used to contain drinking water – it makes drinking water smell subtly earthy and feels cooly fresh. Children would dispense water from the jug to glass to drink; adult would usually just lift the kendi slightly above mouth level and dispense the water directly to their open mouth without touching the tip of the kendi mouth to their mouth — whoa so difficult to explain!
Kendi is not however commonly used as the function is now replaced by plastic containers and refrigerator. It is now mostly used in Javanese traditional ceremony or in some households that still want to keep some traditional way of life. I prepare 5 kendi to compliment the fridge in my Javanese home — 5 kendi are ready before the dining table is ready 😁
Kendi is actually an acronym (kerata basa in Javanese grammar) of “kendalining diri” (kendalining: control, diri: self) or self control. In Javanese culture kerata basa is used to tie a good teaching to what people is doing. So, practically kendi is not a personal utensil like spoon and fork, anyone can share it. Through the name Javanese know that using kendi, there shall be some self control applied. When someone drinks directly from the clay jug, one should do it carefully to minimise the risk of dropping the kendi and break it; and not greedily gulp all water as other family members or friends also need fresh water in that hot day.
Culturally (at least according to Greek mythology and Quran) human being’s physical is created from clay —like kendi— that is given soul by the Source and so we are breathing. So it is natural that human beings are fundamentally attached to earth. Yet how much ever human beings want to stay as firm, strong, young, beautiful like the clay coming from earth, it is not possible. There is breathing that fans the “fire of life” in the clay body and when it stops “fanning”, the clay body stops functioning.
Can’t live forever, some like to play “forever pretending”. Pretending to be young or beautiful or firm with plastic surgery. Pretending to be happy with some drugs. Pretending to be more precious than others with fake luxury and conspiracy. Pretending this and that.
Ah! That game! That’s fun indeed! Yet it is not doable for me. Being human is not an easy job, pretending makes it even difficult and complicated and unnecessary. So please count me out. 💃🏽
Hey! If some people want to live forever or stay young, firm, strong, beautiful and fully functional; they’d better be a kendi. 😂
Salaam….
No doubt, Beloved,
Flowers blooming greet the sun.
The vase is ready.
—
Welcome to a happiest month! 💝
Your name, Beloved:
Air blanketing fragrant space,
Soil firming the stance—
—
Shakespeare said “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.”
He isn’t wrong. Yet he isn’t always right.
I call a name when rain is sweetly pouring down, call another name when day is scorching too bright and hot….
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 you….
Oh your name….
Salaam.
Oh….
How
I
Miss
You
So
Yet dimensions have distanced us with invisible connection.
Oh….
How
I
Miss
You
So
Only wish and pray I can send through speechless wireless across the elements.
Oh….
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.
Oh….
How
I
Miss
You
So
It doesn’t matter and it doesn’t count
Even how I miss you most; like a tiny penny in a billionaire’s account:
Missed and forgotten through space and time.
Oh….
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.
Oh….
How
I
Miss
You
So
….
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:
Oh….
How
I
Miss
You
So
—
—
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…. 🙏🏼
These eyes, Beloved,
Sparkle behind a curtain
Hiding your shadow—
—
Thanks for these healthy eyes. 💝
Say hi, Beloved,
To those making you feel good.
Life is abundant.
—
When very good plan and very bad weather collide, it takes just a breath to be back to feeling good mode.
Life is too abundant to consider a lost day a loss.
Nocturne, Beloved,
Desert at velvety nights;
Her hair is waving,
Where pitch and rhythm dangle
Sprinkling tones of a warm heart
—
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.
Serene….
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 connection….
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 don’t 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.
—
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 💝
rike jokanan 
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