None ever knows why,
All happen through unknown plan
Swarming around light
Celebrating unknown-ness
Night after night with no end.
—
kind of amazed that Daniel Goleman is into meditation 🤯
Why
Tag: tanka
Souvenirs
I bring souvenirs
Wrapped in a pouch made with love
For you who's waited.
This pouch might be forgotten,
The fragrance's always missed.
—
a batik pouch to wrap an oleh-oleh for a friend — all is handmade by me, done in about 4 hours; no sewing machine, only a pair of sciccors, a ruler, thread and needle
tell me what makes us meditate better than doing things with love
the body part is cut from printed batik “Truntum”
the round base is cut from printed batik “Wahyu Tumurun” using a stainless-steel bowl as the pattern
the waste including some Hansaplast to close some small cut on my finger
About oleh-oleh
Scents and Colours in Space
If there is a space,
I won’t fill it with a thing
But scents and colours
So it’s full but still roomy
For you to glow in my sky.
——
photo of universe from Wikipedia
Moon
Thank you, mid autumn
For showing a firmer end
Of uncertain path
Having trapped the traveler
In a maze of blinking stars.
——
Happy Mid Autumn Festival
between chopsticks
on a spoon
in a cone
among stars
shadowed by birds
by the sea
over a castle
Note: pictures sent by a colleague
Turning Point
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! 💕💕😊
Picked
Pick ones, Beloved
That this heart has been singing,
Soul is caressing.
Give gifts to those genuine:
Not those clean— those to self true.
——
i won’t make others pick for me even my fave bookstore 🙂
card decks for my friend in Ubud
some friends are religious and reading, so books are gift for them
got one for my birthday 👀🥹
Waves of Clouds
Waves of clouds, my love
Swim from morning to night shore
Telling me to dance
Sprinkling bright petals of life
To hearts who lost hope to move.
——
some food help wipe clouds from the mind
Books To Breathe
Have a seat, dear friends.
Breathe this home before our chat.
Leave the heat outside.
Pages of shapes and colours,
Tell them to bring their best selves.
——
Coffee table books are good to make guests relaxed before longer chat with me and at the same time to lay foundation of the chat. Not all guests visit me to chill out; some do to ask for help that might make it difficult for them to start a convo, so some flash reading can help them break the ice and sometimes for the host to loop back to the ice breakers when strategising to refuse unreasonable requests. 😉
Just fyi, some people don’t easily give up “selling misery to get a buy-in”, so be softly tough; one exquisite coffee table book might not even work.
About coffee table books
coffee table books taking turn monthly to welcome my friends
this book contains reproduced masterpieces of world’s well-known painters; the characters in the original paintings are all replaced by cats
all reproductions are by Susan Herbert
thank you, Ma’am for your art! 🙏🏼
here is very few from a total of 140 illustrations
The Beguiling of Merlin — Edward Burne-Jones, 1872-7
A Couple — Pierre Auguste-Renoir c. 1868
The Milkmaid — Johannes Vermeer c. 1660
The Child’s Bath — Mary Bassat, 1893
this is originally not a coffee table book but i will make it one — currently reading it 👏🏼
always suitable anytime so it will be forever on the table accompanied by the monthly one — only women have this power 😊
Be Happy, Beloved
I won’t, Beloved
Take you from what completes you.
Your here now is that, not this.
This garden with lemongrass
Is my here and now I love.
——
Ibu sent me this picture that she took by herself after forever saying “I can’t take good pictures like you, don’t ask me any” — 3 slices of some cake I bought online (sold through Twitter) and delivered directly to her ♥️
she said “thank you for the ‘spikoek’, it is amazingly yummy”
my mother’s love is so huge that i don’t realise like seeing a sheet of paper from 1 millimeter away 💕
i am enough with a few humble friends that truly understand me so i won’t anymore beg friendship from that not even wanting to know who i am 😁
Good Day
Good day is good hope
Lining waiting for handling
By heart that sees light.
Dance, Beloved. Welcome the day.
The gate opens wide with smiles.
——
the view from in front of my door; seeing the reservoir has always energised me 💕
even 2024 looks good from here 🙏🏼
Light Steps
There are steps prancing
On a line between two worlds
Within and without.
Lotus shows celebration,
Mud purification.
——
Twitter is getting louder and louder before election in Indonesia. Instagram is getting more and more showy with the holidays and parties coming.
I am happier not too much engaged with those two; Twitter is for me to keep abreast with political issues that help me make decision whom to vote in 2024 (I quit abstention this time after for the rest of my life) and Instagram is to tag and be tagged by family and friends. I am now even happier to have stopped stalking unnecessary accounts that made me scrolling and searching to gain nothing but sighs and shivers.
Only WordPress can hug me consistently warmly. Only WordPress can make me realise I have words to travel light, imagination to travel far, values and wisdom to travel with caution and good will to keep moving.
I am safe here.
💕
how warm and jazzy that place was; see you again, Jazz Gunung Bromo next year! I am happy to be part of your warmth and jazz! 🙏🏼
That Dance
That we have to dance
With beautiful souls that dance
Is sheer dance of life.
Dance, you who hope for the light;
These notes are jazzing for you.
——
the best from Jazz Gunung Bromo 💕
Romantic
What’s romance, my love?
Is roses stay in the branch
With no disturbance.
They’re unpicked until falling
Gracefully kissing the earth.
——
Yogyakarta is one of the most romantic cities on earth, where life is automatically slowing down and love can be felt sweeter, simpler and longer; my friends said “the most romantic or the cheapest?” i said cheerfully “i love cheap things that make me happy including cheap friends, people with high maintenance cost please go away” 😄
one serene night in Stasiun Tugu
Magic Ears
There’s a prancing deer
To tiger forgetting fear.
A striped body’s near.
Luck! The dear has magic ears.
It dashes and disappears.
—
Sweet Heart
Hello, my sweetheart.
Is life still sweet and vibrant?
Nes, said twisted tongue
Who means yes but mixed with no.
Making decision is wow.
—
Sweet is banana rice cake for breakfast and lunch. Should dinner be with the same? Please no. But where is thanksgiving if food is wasted? Sometimes good is not always good like this sweet banana rice cake that ends up as a dilemma. 💕
Lesson learnt: the karma of trying a full recipe is eating the same food the whole day without knowing to whom complaint shall be aired 😁
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.
Morning
Morning, Beloved,
When seeds of joy is planted.
When dewdrops slide off.
What hues are painted for skies.
Whose voice will define the day.
—
Leadership is about being able to discriminate my own thoughts and making conscious decisions for the best of the agreed direction.
after morning prayer, certain day is just so….
Dream of You
A beautiful view
Conjured by moon, sunk by sun.
It feels faraway,
A dissipating shadow.
At least I dream about you.
—
Sunday, did you conspire with the sun to snap my dream? Never mind. I’ll call the moon again to get it back. 😄
Happy Sunday!
Kamboja
A gift, Beloved,
Pink star full of granted wish
What would you say, Self?
Thank you for this pretty gift.
She’ll spread the fragrance and vibe.
—
Nocturne
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….
rike jokanan 
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