Hidden trough of Soul,
A home where letter and voice
Are silent. Where’s that?
Walk your orbit, Beloved.
They know the way to that realm.
You are not lost, Self. You are tracing back a journey home of trillions years of light and so you might have forgotten what, who and when but you won’t forget how to walk on it. What you need to do is just don’t quit. Don’t ask why, the answer is too clear. How ugly it is now, know that wings are grown.
Scents of the unknown
Lingers in the air. Muguet:
Earthy, green, floral—
You’ve turned spark to fire burning
Dreams to fuel a sweet journey.
All people love fragrance; not necessarily perfume but yes I’m talking about it. Let’s agree that fragrance is one of the best gifts in life – I mean…. I am not naturally smelling like flowers, but I love nice air coming into my nostrils and celebrating the beauty of nature through one of the human’s senses. Don’t you?
At times when we are wearing perfumes, we’ll subconsciously reminisce moments featuring individuals that we might or might not clearly remember.
Lemongrass mostly reminds me to Ayutthaya. Jasmine connects to a place in Erawan, Bangkok. Frangipani brings Ubud back to memory. Rose to one factory in Vietnam. Lemon brings me to my humble abode in Greater Jakarta. Sandalwood to my mother who loves sandalwood. Lavender to my father whose pomade was lavender-based. And so on, and so forth.
Recently there came unknown scents that reminded me to some people. I was browsing perfumes, and trying certain fragrances, particular moments and faces struck me stealthily. Goodness! Now I captured them through various fragrances! Moments, faces and nuances intertwined in the liquid. The memories might have been traced and downloaded by our brain! Unknown scents have empirically proved to represent impression caught about someone.
I’m now liking lily of the valley or muguet scent because it reminds this person to a most beloved. I don’t think that person splashed muguet when meeting with me but he suits that attar. What an overestimation it is! It’s ok, he doesn’t know 😂
Recommended: Go for a new experience in perfumery and investigate what scents connect you to what moments or which individuals. You might find a way to get rid of bitter past and/or revive good spirits to be happy.
Guess I know why I can’t relate well to some people that’s why they are connected to certain aroma that I’m not fond of. Probably…. Or just my superstition….
One person’s favourite scents might not be others’ ones.
Four-letter word, Love.
I takelove to dealwith you.
Withfullrisk I know.
God talks about love. Religion talks about love. Many people refer to divinity and humanity.
Rumi talked about love. Ibn Arabi talked about love. People interpret their topic of love in wide spectrum: lustily physical, romantic, humanity, divinity — from the simple to the absurd. And it is always beautiful whatever the perspective is, as long as love becomes the foundation.
You can approach love from your own experience, the message is simply between Lover and Beloved. People may judge your message of love, but you are the truest judge to yourself….
From a seed of awe
Grew secret admiration.
Joy in painful hide
Summed up by a flash farewell—
I love you from where I am.
Love is actually personal experience that internally grows or flickers out based on the quality and responses. I find in my experience loving someone for many years without him knowing it until we took a farewell—he might only know he is special to me and not more; love grows but wisely stops expecting anything. Why expecting if you don’t even get the expected responses from the person and there is no entrance to learn more about the one that you love? Poor me? No, I’m lucky that love has tested me and I pass.
Yes, the most important thing is to test love, how true it is. What if your love isn’t intense anymore? How if the one you love doesn’t love you? How if you find your love evolves? All those rubbish absolutely happen. 😂
It is always good to talk about love. Love deserves a talk, in either low or high pitch, anger or soberness, silence or crowd, far or near, laze or excitement….
A bunch of roses
Present flowers, leaves, stems, thorns—
Where is the root, Love?
It’s left in the heart, where growth
Is truer and forever.
Yet for those who never contemplate or who don’t care, love is difficult to embrace and feel. The vibe can be so fake or vague without physical presence. They need definition of love, which can only degrade the quality of it. Just do….
What have I ranted about?
Too much for the last day of new year’s holiday but too good to be unsaid to start very good years ahead!
I send my best regards to you across the ocean. Happy and Healthy New Year! I love you from where I am.
May all beings be happy.
Singapore – January 4, 2021 – last day of holiday / 14:10
Language is alive
Even in silence. I guess
It’s ears who discount.
I don’t escape, Beloved.
Just my confidence collapsed....
Space is not distance,
It’s a knot between two hearts.
Imagine two words
Without space: cramped and crowded.
Just never disconnect, Love.
Year end is ready
To summarise lessons learnt
To hand happiness
Over to new one. Welcome,
Self, to realm of connection....
A bunch of roses,
Send this prayer as a gift
To those remembered
Through air, land, water, fire in
Dark, fragrant beauty. Amen.
I pray with flowers in a glass vase every week: reciting beautiful verses to those I’ve loved and remembered especially the ancestors, whispering unsaid love to those faraway, wishing they be happy everyday. Some people consider it ancient practice and not applicable or acceptable as modern but I feel more connected to my own self by doing it. So making it a habit
I love the dark mood of today’s flowers combined with my “sogan handmade batik”. It painted a shade of dark beauty with special fragrance and colour.
I can read but I
Don’t know what I read and I
Don’t stop ‘coz I like
What I read. Sounds strange but I
Like to read hidden meaning.
Reading is fun even if you don’t know the meaning of what is read. When learning a new language with totally different structure and alphabets from what you are fluently using everyday, the excitement is there. I was so excited when first time learning writing Javanese alphabets in my childhood and I mostly knew the meaning because Javanese has been my mother tongue; while Indonesian has been second (primary) language. Then Arabic gave me the second excitement when I was around 17. And now, Japanese gives me another excitement and a taste of frustration.
Mastering language is about internalising logical thinking of a culture, the logic of a nation. Why in one particular language structure a predicate is located at the end of a sentence while in the other it is somewhere else. This frozen brain has to work hard to know how Japanese digest facts and blend them into grammar. And all the sweet apology and courtesy all over the language now make me question if they are truly kind in heart or it’s just a muscle of articulation. Forget it. Just learn and know how to use it.
The excitement is here coz I read like a kindergarten student -loud, confident but dreadfully un-melodic”. Yet I love it! Even when I had to finish the super short story Ikkyu-San in 45 minutes. I keep mixing up among ne-re-wa, i and ri, nu and me… Good heaven! (Did I mean bloody hell?) Courtesy please 😂
I also have Yotsuba! for my next. But hey, that can only be started after reading Ikkyu-San smoothly with melody. When the melody and pace are right, read more books! Then get dictionary….
My colleagues in Japan already offered their free time to chat with me in Japanese when I’m ready. When? I don’t know…. 😂
March on a twig. Oops! They flip.
It looks up to the blue skies,
Prepares to cocoon itself.
Butterfly is never really born. It is a natural breakthrough after the hungry caterpillar is willing to go fasting and liquidize itself in seclusion. When it is time, a butterfly comes into being.
You might be not a colourful pretty butterfly but cocooning should have taught you that your present being is the output of a long resting period after such a long euphoric period of being a hungry caterpillar. The euphoric being is gone, replaced by a winged soft being flying and dancing celebrating the moving air around its body.
Your wings might be just pitch black but they are the result of how sincere you are in a transformative sleep hanging in a weak twig, without knowing if you’ll be slapped down when the twig is broken, without knowing that you’ll be aborted because of the wet, without knowing that the end is the end or a transition point. You just don’t know but you accept your not knowing.
You might not be as pretty as the most beautiful butterfly out there but…. You’ve gone through the same quality of cycle – not less not more. Thanks to fair Mother Nature.
To be “born” winged, fly, help the flowers pollinate before fruition and magically create graceful move with super powerful effect….
Don’t be upset for being a flipping hungry caterpillar’ coz when you’re transformed, your flapping wings can blow a typhoon!
I hope you’re AirPods,
Listening to my love songs
From far far away….
But you’re not AirPods. Your heart
Is frozen by arrogance.
Singapore – July 23, 2020 / 23:22
When human technology is lame and degrading, they don’t believe anymore with the unseen signs that they can only feel through taste granted to Self…. Many human only believe in the limited five senses that won’t work just because of a wall standing tall. You know now, dear Love…. that you’re not better than my AirPods. I’m crying because of that fact but I don’t care anymore as long as my AirPods can help me listen to my own Love songs from my machine that stands tall in my living room while I’m cooking in the kitchen….
Thanks my AirPods and those who have worked together to deliver them to my silent heart….
Messy like heaven.
After cooking I feel tired
Of all the dirty
Pots, plates, spoons, knives and rubbish.
Full without eating—
I am naturally a picky eater, but trying my best to eat every thing served as long as healthy and non poisonous. I even let myself eat those I’m allergic to – just to prove to this weak Self that this body can bear the poison though has failed now and then.
Today I cooked one traditional food from Java island of beautiful archipelago, my dear Indonesia – buntil.
It is stuffed cassava leaves wraps, you can also use papaya leaves. The content can be as cheap as grated young coconut only or added with anchovy or meat or any protein that you wish to have in the meal. This time I make a fusion – buntil stuffed with Korean stir fried anchovies with pumpkin seed and walnuts. The fusion is just because I could not find the seed that originally cooked in the Java island, we call it “petai Cina” (please use your freedom to find what it is in Google). I bought the Korean side dish coz I don’t know how to make it.
This is cheap and humble dish that is traditionally eaten as side dish with rice. But it has become a rare food where I live now – even people from Indonesia might not find it interesting anymore. Not sure why but alas! Everybody has one’s own liking. I’m so grateful that the cleaning lady knocked my door and brought some earth products that I’ve missed dearly – bamboo shoot, banana flower, cabai rawit and cassava leaves! So why not making food that I’ve missed so dearly, too.
I’m happy with the result, knowing that there are details of ingredients and still a good success. But the after cooking was not so happy seeing piles of dirty containers and cooking utensils that I had to wash by myself…. Heaven!
Anyway! Let’s see the happy scenes! Unhappy scenes of cleaning and tidying up the shelves and cabinets are off the records!
Welcome next good week!
May all beings be happy….
Raw cassava leaves, just in case you never know what it is….
Boil the cassava leaves with salt until they are soft enough to chew but not too soft to break themselves in your hands.
Korean stir fried anchovies with pumpkin seeds and walnuts – it is sweet originally but I still seasoned it with the buntil seasoning….
This is to tie up the wrap. If not tied, the wrap won’t be strong enough to hold the anchovies in and the leak of the anchovies with different seasoning from the one in the coconut milk will affect the final blend of the taste.
Wrap it up!
Put all the wraps into the pot…. They are happily waiting for some shower.
Pour the seasoned coconut milk on to the wraps in the pot. And ready to boil….
Cook until the coconut milk is reduced, absorbed by the wraps. Trust me, the taste is Heaven!
I’ve been learning how to write haiku, and now tanka. The link below to learn in simple way.
The Japanese tanka is a thirty-one-syllable poem, traditionally written in a single unbroken line. A form of waka, Japanese song or verse, tanka translates as “short song,” and is better known in its five-line, 5/7/5/7/7 syllable count form.
One of the oldest Japanese forms, tanka originated in the seventh century, and quickly became the preferred verse form not only in the Japanese Imperial Court, where nobles competed in tanka contests, but for women and men engaged in courtship. Tanka’s economy and suitability for emotional expression made it ideal for intimate communication; lovers would often, after an evening spent together (often clandestinely), dash off a tanka to give to the other the next morning as a gift of gratitude.
In many ways, the tanka resembles the sonnet, certainly in terms of treatment of subject. Like the sonnet, the tanka employs a turn, known as a pivotal image, which marks the transition from the examination of an image to the examination of the personal response. This turn is located within the third line, connecting the kami-no-ku, or upper poem, with the shimo-no-ku, or lower poem.
Many of the great tanka poets were women, among them Lady Akazone Emon, Yosano Akiko, and Lady Murasaki Shikibu, who wrote The Tale of Genji, a foundational Japanese prose text that includes over 400 tanka. English-language writers have not taken to the tanka form in the same way they have the haiku, but there are several notable exceptions, including Amy Lowell, Kenneth Rexroth, Sam Hamill, Cid Corman, and Carolyn Kizer.
There are many excellent anthologies of Japanese verse, most of which feature lengthy selections of tanka. Rexroth’s translations, which include One Hundred Poems from the Japanese and One Hundred More Poems from the Japanese, are considered classics, and The Ink Dark Moon: Love Poems by Ono no Komachi & Izumi Shikibu, translated by Jane Hirshfield with Mariko Aratani, continues this tradition.