[Bahasa Indonesia]
This is it. I am off for seven-eight months of study in the Beshara School, Scotland, UK. I shall see you again in April or May 2009, God willing. Be good. Have fun. Take care.
-eva
pic: Taken somewhere on Orchard Road, Singapore.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
…
The moon is a perfect meeting place, you see. For the moon does not shine its own light. It reflects the light it receives (mainly) from the sun--just like two friends reflecting one another. It shines a tender light that is never blinding, but still gives enough warmth to the heart and brings smile to the face.
So, I guess I shall see you tonight at the evening sky where the moon is--full or not. White, orange, grey, or pink. For once, I don't really care about the details.
Even if the moon is not in sight, we still know it is there. We still know where to meet. We are still meeting.
Perhaps the moon is not in sight because it is busy shining on other parts of the world. That is okay. The moonshine is rich enough for many to share. The beauty it shines upon us, though, is exclusively for us. I know. You know, too.
Perhaps the moon is not in sight because its route is not as predictable as the sun is. I supposed it is part of the beauty of the moon. It keeps us guessing, intrigued, and, occasionally, longing. (I wonder whether the sun is the only thing it is reflecting.)
Or perhaps the moon is not in sight due to the clouds. I don’t mind that either. Because clouds bring me the promises of rain. Rain too reminds me of you.
And the place where I am going–it rains all the time.
---
My challenge is not to remind myself to look up at the evening sky. My challenge is to not look up all the time. I know I must set my sight to what is in front of me and not let my mind wonder too often, even to you.
Besides, deep down, I know you are going to be alright. You are that strong and blessed. That is all I need to know. That is all that matters.
My dear friend. My dear spiritual mentor on how to love, to feel (again), to express (again), and—now—to let go. I know I must let you be, let you walk your own journey.
And my place is about two steps behind you, or rather, around you. At the back of the room, sipping warm black coffee, eating cookies, chatting my usual non-sense chat with whomever is next to me. Smiling proud at you, because of you.
While you are taking the center stage, growing sweet again, and fragrant and wild and fresh, and thankful for any small event.
It is time for us to continue the journey. Together or by ourselves. Or sometimes together and sometimes by ourselves. Yes, perhaps that is it. Thank you for being a travel companion for me and for being part of the blessings in this life.
The mind knows. The heart needs to catch up.
The first picture was taken in Ubud (Bali), the second from here and the third at the Anomali Coffee (Senopati, Jakarta).
[Bahasa Indonesia]
Al Ghazali said that sometimes God (or nature or whatever supreme power you believe in) would take away things that we treasure so much in our heart to provide us with life lessons.
For us to learn to live without things we hold so dear to us and survive. For us to appreciate the treasure and use it (more) wisely.
Only when we have learned our lessons, He will return them to us.
I have had a lot of things taken away from me throughout my life. Some I still have not gotten back. Some I am reluctant or even afraid to repossess. Denial and avoidance. Guess I am still learning.
post script: But I tell you one thing though. Despite it all, I am still fine and I still consider myself one of the luckiest—the most blessed—beings ever alive. As you are, too. More than you realize. Thank you for being part of the blessings.
Don't ever think differently.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
My school has not started yet. I have not even started my (physical) travel yet. But the pre-term lessons have begun.
A healing mentor Reza Gunawan told me a while ago sometimes our body and soul know the travel that we are about to embark on and they begin the process even before we start the physical journey.
I can feel that the process have begun. Within. A sensation (or two, or three) so familiar and familiarly intense. They are resurfacing. This time, I (try to) welcome them with all my heart. Try would be the operative word here, as it can be quite challenging.
My meditation teacher Pak Merta Ade of Bali Usada once said, “When you are ready, try to stay with the sensation longer.” (translation: don't run away. Deal with it.) He was talking about the bodily sensation felt during meditation. I was hearing a lot more than that. I heard sadness, anger, traumas, and what have you. All those unresolved emotions.
The book I received from a friend urged me to start where I am now. To learn to deal with my current and real (physical and emotional) conditions; to learn from them. Again, all those unresolved emotions.
Both occurrences told me to “slow down, stop moving, sit, and deal with yourself”. So I sat. In silence. With nobody else but myself. And You. It was not easy. Somehow the old feelings and memories have become more and more vivid. I became restless. I wondered whether I was ready to plunge into this once again.
I would not be me if I had not tried to be 'creative'.
Maybe if I keep myself busy, I would not be too tied up with this practice. I took up some projects even though my departure date is approaching fast. I guess I forgot who I am up against. Both projects were not moving that fast. I still have lots of free time to “be tied up with this practice.”
Well, maybe there is a way to lighten this load a bit. Sharing would help, right? It would not hurt to tell a friend or two, right? Wrong.
Some things really should be left unspoken and unshared. There was always something. Internet got disconnected. One too many people around. Mismatched schedule. Not enough time. You see, it is not that I don't want to, I cannot. I must not.
So again, I can only sit in silence. With myself and I. And You.
I know the time has arrived. I know it is a personal journey that I have to walk on my own. With nobody else but You. Believe. I do.
You may not understand. It is ok. Sometimes I don’t either.
The mind knows. The heart still needs to catch up.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
The stone-built medieval town is at a complete still
All its inhabitants have gone to sleep
All except one. The teenage Annette
The town street says nothing
Yet to this girl, it is bearing its tired soul
The teenage Annette is wrapped in her winter coat
She is staring at the empty street
Her chest congested, her breathing short, her eyes watery
Yet she stands there, unmoved, frozen in time and space
Ignorant to the chilling Fahrenheit that is tightly squeezing her
Because there is something even more chilling
About this beloved town of hers
The sadness, the frustration, and the heartbreaking poverty
Annette has made up her mind
She knows what to do
And is determined to instigate it
Feeling resolved, the girl returns inside
To her warm homey modest hut
To her smart blue collar father
To her humble loving mother
And her innocent little brother
Young matured Annette knows
The fertile land surrounding her town is the key
To bring her people out of this stricken poverty
Agriculture-based economy. That is the answer
That is what she is focusing on
A total dedication to her ideals and people
Annette’s performance surpasses all women of her time
Her thoughts get appreciated
But Annette is satisfied much too soon
The ovation and gratitude have blinded her
Arrogance has smoothly taken over her soul
And she forgets how far she can go
She overlooks the many miles she has yet to travel
The road detours even further
The adult Annette meets her man
They fall in love
They live happily throughout the rest of their life
Annette disregards what she is set to do
She clings to the happiness she is so afraid to lose
She does not know that she could have had it all
To have the cake and eat it too
And much more. The Caretaker is that generous
On her dying bed, the middle aged Annette looks around
She feels happy. She feels love
Annette has what she wants
Wealth. Respect. Family
And (her limiting somewhat misled understanding of) love
But during her last minutes, she remembers something
Her job is still not done
She has abandoned what she had come here for
Now it is all coming back to her
During the final moments of her life
There are still some clinging hopes left though
The journey is not over yet
There will be a next time
And that time is now
When all things fall into places
When all things can and will go hand in hand
Love. And this time, she hopes it is the Divine Love.
When I call your name
I'm gonna scream out loud
I'll say...
Here I am standing in the crowd
You'll say "Come to me
With your open mind
You never know
What you still might find"
But you keep me here
Like a canceled flight
An empty train
Running through the night
An orphan child
A broken shoe
And I'm still down here
Looking out for you
Are you there for me?
'Cause I'm here for you
Taken from the song Loneliness, by Annie Lennox. Coupled with Irene Cara's Own My Own, U2's The First Time, and Annie Lennox's The Hurting Time, they were an intense combination.
Reminiscing the past. Wondering whether I am completely over it.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
This is it. The end of my current stretch of travel. Tomorrow, the work life (as a professional in the communications field) will resume. It has been a great three week journey.
When I told a friend several weeks ago about my traveling schedule—yoga, meditation, healing training, meeting up with people, four—or more—places in three countries within a stretch of three weeks, she commented, “what a fast life.”
I had never thought about that until she said it. She has made a valid point. If you look at the schedule, my life seems to be moving very fast from one point to another.
Yet interestingly, at each point, the life seemed to slow down up to the degree where it hardly even moved. The life was slow at each point. It took its time going through and enjoying the process.
Now life does not seem as if it is moving that fast at all. Not anymore.
The life moves from one point to another lightly, but I know it takes its time as it moves--immersing in the experience given by each node of adventure, enjoying the process, and embracing the learnings presented by nature.
Detaching, enjoying, and embracing seem to be the keywords of this travel episode.
I have my teachers and friends to thank. And God. And my beloved family. And--in a peculiar way—I have myself to thank for allowing the process to happen.
As I wrote this end note, a passage from the book given by a dear fellow traveler resonated in my head: “Compassion for others begins with kindness to ourselves.”
PS: miss you, too. I really do.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
That night was the last night I stayed at Pacung for TB2. The day after that we would end our noble silence, the meditation session would end, and I would move on.
So late at night, I sat at my porch staring at the darkened garden and the glorious night sky before me.
I smiled and thanked them—the nights, the moon, the stars, the ponds, the fountain, the rice field, the garden, the animals, the wind—for the blissful experience. The only friends I have during my night prayers.
It was a clear night. I had never seen so many stars in Indonesia’s night sky. No moon though. I wonder where it went. It did not matter. I knew it was there. I smiled at the moon nonetheless.
I thought about going to bed but something inside told me to stay just a bit longer. So I continued to sit and converse with the familiarly warm nocturnal nature.
Then the night gave its final performance: A bright—and what seemed to be colorful—shooting star. Quick! Make a wish!
I could not help but smiled. You are too kind.
It has said its last piece. The night then allowed me to sleep.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
How can this..
Turn into this..
And to this..
Before fully blooming into this..
Watch nature unfold its beauty.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
See the picture on the left? The picture was taken at the place where I stayed in Pacung, Bali, during my meditation with Bali Usada.
When you stand exactly on that spot and face to the lowest point where the two hills meet, you can hear the sound of water flowing from three different sources: the small river in front of you, from the pond behind you, and the fountain on your right.
But you cannot see them. You cannot hear them either.
That magnificent spot was built by nature for me. Especially for me. And I am not sharing!
[Bahasa Indonesia]
The first three days of the Tapa Brata were [pause, let me see if I can find a positive word for this] ‘the least pleasant’ for me.
The body and mind (or soul) were adjusting to this new lifestyle, activities, and schedule.
My body ached all over. There was a lack of (or rather, non-existence) of concentration. The feet went numb. The stomach got upset. The weather was chilling. The mind seemed unable to grasp about what it should do and feel during the meditation.
First day. Second day. Third day. It was honestly challenging and somewhat frustrating.
So at the night of Day 3, after everybody had returned to his or her room and I returned to mine, I sat down for a late night prayer and conversed with God.
I proposed a pact with Him. I told Him, more or less in these words, “Look, God, I am willing to go through this gladly if You want me to, but You have got to help me out here. Make this process easy for me.”
Yes, I am fair, straightforward, and stern even to Him.
I must remember this so-called prayer because it seemed quite effective.
Day 4, I woke up feeling determined. I told myself I had got to go through this. I felt like Po in Kungfu Panda when the four heroes gave him a (literally) hard-hitting ‘lesson’ during their first training session together.
Po fell down over and over again. Yet every single time he fell down, he got up again-- looking all enthusiastic beyond common sense--and yelled, “Woo hoo! That was awesome. Let’s do it again!”
I felt like that. I promised myself that I would do my best, even if I could not concentrate 100% or the feet and back were aching.
Thus, the new ‘regime’ was put into place. I came to every single meditation session. I sat quietly throughout the 45-60 minute meditation session. I diligently dragged back my thought whenever it swayed away (for the thousandth time) during the meditation.
I did my prayers. I did my yoga practice. I walked around the garden to stretch my leg. I even folded my blanket, pashmina and jacket every time I finished the meditation session. I also promised myself that I would smile every time I started and ended a meditation.
That morning as I sat facing the hills during the sunrise, I felt God nodding to my proposed pact. The clouds lifted up from the hill nearest to me. Behind that hill, I can see another hill, and another hill, and yet another hill. Clarity. I smiled. They smiled back.
I went out of the dining area and looked up to the sky above. The moon was still there. It was seven o’clock in the morning and the moon was still there. It was as if the moon was gasping its last breath and pulling off its last strength to see how my conversation with God turned out, cheering and smiling at me all the way. I smiled. I shall be okay.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
Second leg of the trip: 11 day meditation of Tapa Brata II (TB2), arranged by Bali Usada, in Pacung (wherever that may be in Bali. Geography is not exactly my forte). From the 11 days, I spent 10 of them in noble silence.
I have never done an 11 day meditation before. There is always a first time for everything, as the cliché would say. I did seven day meditations, but never eleven days.
It was quite an experience, a well-worth experience to go through.
As usual, the people were interesting. I mean, those were not the bunch who wants to try meditation the first time.
They have tasted several traditions of meditation. They have taken the Tapa Brata 1. Somehow they must have thought that they might be on to something here and decided to take up TB2.
I was greeted by the great nature and simple living, chatted with friends and Pak Merta Ade, made a pact with God just to go by, and had numerous rendez-vous with the nights.
So many things to share that I have decided—as with the yoga experience—to share the experience in several entries. I really miss sharing this with friends—with you.
Take your time. Enjoy.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
I was sitting still watching the kecak dance that night. I watched my new non-Indonesian friends watching it in awe. It was their first time seeing the dance. Not for me. I have lost count on how many times I have seen the dance.
I wish it was my first time though. I wish I can feel that same awe as those who saw it for the first time.
Just like a child who sees everything for the first time and spontaneously and animatedly got all hyped up about it.
Would it not be great to have such child-like enthusiasm?
[Bahasa Indonesia]
I love the philosophies behind every yoga move. Here are three that I have noted down from my sessions with Ann Barros.
Balance in the tree pose
We were doing the tree pose. Usually a teacher would ask us to focus on one point throughout the pose to help maintain our balance.
Not Ann. She said the opposite, “Try to move your eyes from one point to another. Your body should stay balance. The balance should come from inside.”
The deep twist
As the session about to end, Ann invited us to do a deep twist. The twist, according to yoga philosopher, releases deep anger, and sadness. Ouch.
If a twist can do that, I wonder what a twist-and-shout can do ;)
Savatsana
No yoga session should end without any cooling down postures. One of which, would be the savatsana or corpse pose.
The pose is said to relax the body, help to lower blood pressure, reduce headache, fatigue and insomnia, calm the brain and help relieve stress and mild depression.
Savatsana is always put as the second last pose (before meditation) of every yoga session. I love it when Ann said each time we do savatsana, “When you are ready, you can start to wake your body up while keeping the savatsana within you.”
Now, have you started to understand why I love yoga so much? :)
[Bahasa Indonesia]
I love this room.
I must confess I was hoping to get another room, towards the back of the lodge. The ones at the back have prettier more traditional interior design and a more scenic view and are closer to all other yoga participants.
I spoke to soon.
That room of mine, that simpler secluded room of mine, was perfect. Firstly, it was actually comfortable and sufficient. Everything works.
Secondly, I had the best neighbor, a fellow yoga participant who somehow had similar professional (and perhaps personal) background. So we connected instantly.
Thirdly, it was the closest one to the yoga class. That precious five extra minutes others spent walking to the class which I can spend lying down on my bed.
Lastly, and this is the best part, the room faced the pathway where everybody should went through whenever they go to the yoga class or anywhere else. Added by a nice front porch, I felt like having a nice petite home that welcomed any friends and guests who passed by.
Sufficient, comfortable, and warmly welcoming. A dream home.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
What do you want to be when you grow up? What is it that you have always been passionate about? What do you always dream about becoming? Would it not be great if we can turn that into reality? Personal (childhood) dream is always an exciting discussion topic.
But you know what—to me—would be more exciting than realizing own childhood dream? It is to enable other people’s childhood dream(s).
I don’t know why, but I always get excited about listening to other people’s dream. In fact, listening to other people’s dream gets me more excited than thinking about my own. My mind works extra hours. My head keeps thinking how I can help turn that into reality, whom I should get my friends in touch with, etc, etc.
I am especially itchy to see gifted people—whose gift is so obvious it is almost blinding—yet they still live ‘their ordinary life’. Why oh why?
I believe we all have our own special, unique gift. Each of us is born with a very specific role in life. Part of our task is to find it out (or some say, to remember it). The other part is to live it.
How do you do find and live your special gift, your dream?
The secret to being special—as Master Oogway and Po’s father Mr. Ping would say—is nothing. You just need to believe that you are special.
There is, however, a trick to do this. The trick is: to give it a try.
If we don’t give it a try, how do we know whether it works for us? It is impossible, you say? Well, it’s kind of fun to do the impossible.
The dream tells us something. Live it. Then return the favor.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
I was amazed, puzzled, and somewhat flattered when some friends asked whether I have ever considered writing books.
“Um, no,” was my initial immediate answer. Short though perhaps not that sweet.
Then my second answer came about as I pondered upon the topic a bit longer, “On what?” I had no idea the kind of book I can write that will entice people enough to read through or even buy.
You see, I have never really seen myself as a writer, much less a good writer. I don’t think I have the passion for writing. Not the way some of my friends have. Those people see writing per se as their passion. Writing has been put on the spotlight as the main subject itself. I don’t.
I see writing as a way to express what I think, what I feel. To express my passions, yes, but not as a stand alone passion.
Nevertheless, as a huge fan for ponder, I gave the comment some more pieces of my mind. I consulted another friend about this—a fellow zinister whose blog is one of my favorites. I am sure she too does not think of herself as a writer.
She said, “Why (write a book)? I would prefer your current modes of writing, through blogs and email circulation. They do not cost me a dime. Books, I need to buy.” Good point.
Don’t get me wrong. I have the utmost respect for writers—gifted writers of published and unpublished books. Books have been among my best friends and I would not have them—nor would I have acquired this much insights and knowledge—had it not for their writers.
Last night another friend argued, “Well, with books all your thoughts and ideas will be compiled in much more compact and organized form. Plus they can reach much wider audience.” True, maybe. But what am I writing about? Who am I reaching out to?
During a discussion a couple of weeks ago, a fellow participant asked me why I did not say a word in the last session. I said I had nothing necessary to add. He said, “But you should. I want to learn from you, too.” True as well. Very interesting, in fact. I have never considered my silence as a show of hesitation to share.
Still, for the time being, I will agree with my friend’s suggestion to stick with blogs and email circulation. For now.
[Pic 1 - personal; 2 - Hany's]
[Bahasa Indonesia]
I think I have been using too much English lately.
When I write an entry for my blog, I write the English text first. Yes, even for this one. When I make my to-do list, I jot it down in English.
When I speak to some of my Indonesian friends, I speak in English (shame on me, said I still in English.) When I want to buy books, chances are, I buy English books.
So for my upcoming trip, I have decided to bring Indonesian books. Indonesian fictions. It has indeed been a long time. With all due respect. My apology.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
Some time ago I wrote an entry about how I do not like saying “I do not know.” I am confident that I am resourceful enough to know just about anything I want.
So even if I do not know the answer or solution at that very moment, I am sure I have a friend (of a friend of a friend) who does. Just give me some time and I will find the solution. A true believer in six degrees of separation.
But the other day, as I was having conversation with a friend, I asked him a question of why and he said he did not know. It was a question about feeling and I asked why he felt that way. He said he did not know, he just did.
I looked at him and said, “Isn’t that the most beautiful answer you can give me?” We both smiled. We both knew it was true.
Sometimes the most important questions in life should have “I don’t know” as their answer. Why do you love a person? I don’t know. I just do. Why do you choose to do this, not that? I don’t know. Because I want to. How come you look so happy? I don’t know. I just feel happy. Here. Inside. Do we really have to know the reason?
Looking back on recent events, I have used that "I don't know" answer on numerous occasions. I have decided on a lot of things—some are quite crucial—without really logically knowing the reasons. On some, the questions did not even crossed my mind, until somebody else has asked me. Even then, I sticked to my answer of “I don’t know.”
I don't mind not knowing. Because I know You know. And I trust You.
You cannot imagine how far I have traveled to come to this stage of not knowing. To know that I do not know and do not mind about it. In fact, I embrace it. Why? I don't know.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
A friend seems to have “Life is about choices" as her favorite quote recently. This has got me thinking. Is life really about choices? Do we really choose?
There are people who go by thinking that they are stuck with what they have now. That they have no other choices. Mostly perhaps because of economic reason, but more because people are not used to thinking there are other possibilities in life. That they can achieve a lot more if they only try, if they only believe.
Then there are people who start to think that life is about choices. We have so many options in life. We have the power to choose. I wonder whether the fact that we need to time to think to choose is because we do not know ourselves.
If you know you prefer tea to coffee, if you like strawberry ice cream and not chocolate, you don't even think about coffee or chocolate ice cream. Even if the coffee or chocolate is there, you do not see that as options, because it is not you. You will easily say "tea" and "strawberry" without thinking twice.
Moreover, who are we to say that we can control our life. A friend once said "control is an illusion." We think we have control but the next minute everything can fall apart without us being able to do anything about it. It sounds rather arrogant to think that we are the ones who are controlling our life, we are the ones who make all the choices.
Then there are people who just do. They just walk the path of life. They do not choose because they know the path has been set especially for them to walk on. They have belief. They make the most of what is in front of them, what has been served to them, because they know it is from 'Him' especially for them.
Next, there are people who just be. People who do not do just for the sake of doing what is in front of them, but because it comes somewhere from within. Because it is what they are. They consult their heart, not their mind.
Ultimately, there will come a time when what we 'want' is exactly the same as what He wants. We do not even talk about "being" because the only being is Him and nothing else. He is us but we are not really Him.
I am sure there are other explanations. But I shall stop here and end my note with what my friend wrote in her email. She said, “When you connect with your heart and act out of it, everything you do is true. Neither right or wrong. It just is. Your mind does not get in the middle. You just do it.
She continued, “When you work with yourself (insight), everything else outside gets in place. The heart plays such an important role, it becomes the bridge between your thoughts and actions and love needs an open heart to give and receive. The more open your heart is the more you can give and receive. ¨Him¨ is love.”
I am blessed. I know I am. Thank you.
