The golden moments
Sunrise and sunset are often referred to as the golden moments in photography.
I wonder when the last time I did nothing but embraced these golden moments.
When did you?
Me and books
[Bahasa Indonesia]
Me and books go a long way back. They are among my best friends in the world. They have taken me further than I can even imagine. I thank them for it. I thank my mom and dad for it.
I was at a friend’s place. She has opened a small library for children in her neighborhood. I shared with her my love for books. I told her when it all began.
A refresher course
[Bahasa Indonesia]
I had a long hour chat with a friend last Saturday. One story I told her was about another friend. A friend that was a super busy person with quite a complicated life, to say the least.
I referred to her as one of my greatest teachers. And a dearest friend.
Whenever we wanted to meet, there was always something. Her meeting was extended. The restaurant in which we were supposed to meet was closed and her mobile was not functioning so she could not contact me. She had sudden assignments from her boss(es). She had to run some errands for her family. Etc etc.
What the river has shown me
[Bahasa Indonesia]
My friends and I were discussing the poem It’s a pleasure to be a student. One asked about the line “Rivers show me the nature of myself.” What can rivers show us? She asked.
It brought me back to when I was in Anahata, Ubud, Bali.
Towards the end of my stay there, we went down to the river just below our resort.
Oh Ahmad
By Narda Dalgleish.
O Ahmad
There is nothing I can do or say to prevent your intention
To blow yourself up
with those you hate.
But I would like you to know anyway
That at the end of your last prayer
when you turn your head to the right
and say
assalamu alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakaatuhu
you have greeted me too
as I am there, right beside you
with the whole of Mankind
because your Lord is my breath.
Then when you turn
your head to the left
and repeat for the last time
assalamu alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakaatuhu
I am there too, with the whole universe
because everywhere you turn
there is His face
And your Lord is my breath.
Even when
your hands and forehead touch the ground
and you say to your Lord with a deep sense of fulfillment
Hu
We are all there
right beneath you
with our forehead and hands and knees and toes
touching yours from the ground.
So just before you press the button
with your call Akbar
know that we are always between you and your Lord
because
He is our breath.
Now. What if I tell you that the poem is written by a mother who has lost her son to a suicide bomber?
One, one, one
From Rumi. It's been a long time.
One, One, One
The lamps are different,
But the Light is the same.
So many garish lamps in the dying brain's lamp-shop,
Forget about them.
Concentrate on the essence, concentrate on Light.
In lucid bliss, calmly smoking off its own holy fire,
The Light streams towards you from all things,
All people, all possible permutation of good, evil, thought, passion.
The lamps are different,
But the Light is the same.
One matter, one energy, one Light, one Light-mind,
Endlessly emanating all things.
One turning and burning diamond,
One, one, one.
Ground yourself, strip yourself down,
To blind loving silence.
Stay there, until you see
You are gazing at the Light
With its own ageless eyes.
.I'll stay. snif.
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