[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]
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]
It is September. On the 17th, I'll be off to Scotland for a six-month study in Beshara.
These upcoming months of my life was started by one of those unexpected turns in my life. I was introduced to the Beshara group in Jakarta last year.
I attended a weekend course and I must admit I did not connect instantly. But something has pulled me to the group again and again. I obeyed, partly out of curiosity.
Earlier this year, I attended another weekend course. Toward the end of the course, I stroke up a casual conversation with one of the facilitators. I asked whether it was possible for me to join the course on scholarship. He said, “Just email the school director.” The statement was that simple.
The process was amazingly just as simple. I ‘ignored’ that remarks for a week, then something prompted me, and I thought, well, why not. I have nothing to lose.
I emailed the director. The director responded. Yes. Yes??!?!? I text-ed a couple of friends, forwarded the email, and asked whether I have understood the email correctly. I was. Wow.
Some friends asked (over and over again) how come I got the scholarship, on what ground. The only answer I could give them was: “Perhaps, all you have to do is ask.” A succumbing answer given due to lack of other logical explanation. No need for one.
And the rest is history. I received the acceptance email in March this year. Then life happened. Now we are in September. Two weeks from now, I shall be in Scotland, God willing.
Scotland. The region has been very close to my heart. My friends and family know how much I have fallen in love with the place.
So when they heard I was going to Scotland, there were only two comments made: “It is meant to be” and “Oh, you are going home.”
Yes, I feel like I am going home. I am going home. I am going, from one home to another. It is meant to be. I am merely walking it.
If you go there--and you go there with me, I am sure you can see what I see, and feel what I feel, then you might understand why.
---
I woke up this morning to a text by a dear friend: “May all kind efforts lead the soul to true enlightenment, even if it is not the easiest road.”
I know. You know. No other does. Deep breath.
pics taken from Beshara, Stirling Uni, and Gettyimages.
[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.
[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]
A man was nailing the wall with a hammer. His left hand was holding the nail while the right holds the hammer. Pound, pound, pound.
“Ouch!” suddenly the man shouted. He has hit his left hand with the hammer. Or if you like, his right hand (that is holding the hammer) has hit his left hand (that is holding the nail).
Do you know what have happened next?
The right hand threw away the hammer to hold the left hand. The left hand was hurting and focusing on the pain. Both worked together to best ease the pain.
What do you think would have happened had the incident been between two humans? A hit B. A could have run away. A could have acted as if nothing had happened. Or A could have scolded B for being careless—applying the 'scold first before being scolded' principle.
B, on the other hand, might have looked at A with anger and hatred. B would have blamed A for what had just happened. B would have held grudges and at the back of the mind keep this memory in tact and secretly plan for a revenge some day.
But not the hands. The right hand did not run away. It could not. Both hands were united in one body. The right hand straightforwardly forgot what it was doing to tend for the left hand. The left hand did not hold any grudges and did not even think of having a revenge at the right hand.
Things happen. Both hands work together to make the best out of it. They feel for each other. They are connected with each other. They know that, at the end of the day, they are one and interconnected. Nobody blames anybody else. They just work together.
The magnificent human body is a microcosmic view of how the universe inter-relates and how humans should treat one another. Very few pay attention, though.
-a story by Thich Nhat Hanh told during those conversations with Nat in Bangkok.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
I have just realized that Bangkok was the only city in my current travel stretch where I did not have any specific agenda apart from meeting with a friend. There was no retreat, no training, no nothing. It is nice to have such occasional lack of agenda.
Well, there was one agenda: to have a chat with my friend Nat. (oh and a Thai massage session.) I met Nat while I was in Spain on a chance occurrence. We had coffee and started to chat. The short chat grew into friendship.
This three-day visit to Bangkok was actually the second time I met her in person. I am not sure what I can write here. Any idea, Nat? I do not know any other persons with whom I can have discussion in the same way we have ours.
As my taxi drove for the airport early that morning, I felt sad. I have been to several places lately, but only Bangkok has managed to make me feel this sentimental.
It was as if I had left the city too soon. Bangkok seemed not to had had the chance to tell me its stories. Perhaps there were words that have not been said, scenes that have not been seen, and experiences that have not been shared.
On board the aircraft, I opened the first page of the book Nat has given me. The book titled "Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living written" by a female monk Pema Chödrön. What a powerful book. I shivered when I opened the first page and felt my eyes getting warmer as I read the preface.
Page ix, paragraph two:
“In our era, when so many people are seeking help to relate to their own feelings of woundedness and at the same time wanting to help relieve the suffering they see around them, the ancient teaches presented here are especially encouraging and to the point. When we find that we are closing down to ourselves and to others, here is instruction on how to open. When we find that we are holding back, here is instruction on how to give. That which is unwanted and rejected in ourselves and in others can be seen and felt with honesty and compassion. This is teaching on how to be there for others without withdrawing.”
I was writing this entry but I did not know at first what pictures I can put here as illustration. Perhaps I should have taken pictures of all the places we went and the things that we ate, Nat. But pictures seemed unimportant and almost irrelevant compared with the things that we chatted and shared. Thank you for being such a gift.
You were right. Our chance meeting was not by chance at all. It was not a meeting between two strangers. It was a meeting of two long lost friends.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
Singapore always feels ‘business’ to me. I do not think I have ever come here as tourist. It was always for something specific: taking my mom to hospital, visiting friends, meeting, attending conferences, or, this time, participating in a training course.
It was a four day training on Craniosacral Therapy (CST). Cranio what? It is a light touch healing technique developed by John Upledger. Simply put, the touch would relaxes stressed muscles and, conversely, activates sleeping muscles.
I love CST for several reasons. It helps people (I am a witness to that. I have been treated.) It uses soft touch, which does not hurt at all (five grams of touch are all it takes.) It has strong scientific medical explanation to back up the technique (good for my overtly logical and painstakingly critical left brain.)
The touch is a way to connect to the person’s body (and mind). Human body has self-healing mechanism. The touch simply says “we’re listening” and waits until the body is opening up to tell its stories.
[Remind me to write more about CST later, For now, kindly refer to the official website of the Upledger Institute for details.]
The training was great. The instructor Michael, the four teaching assistants (TA) and Greenpartners as the organizer (hey Kheng!) were simply superb.
Two of the TAs were my therapists—Martyn and Heather. I did not know they were supposed to be there. So Heather came up to me from behind, covered my eyes from behind and said, “Guess who I am. You should be able to tell by the touch of my hand.” ☺ A typical CST joke!
I had a great time. Honestly, I had a great time during the training. On my first day, I texted a friend only to say “I like my life.” From the bottom of my heart. I don’t think I have ever thought that, at least not for a long time. My life has been nothing but blessings, but that day I honestly felt I was blessed.
When I told several friends about my taking this course, they asked, “What are you going to do with it once you have taken the course?” Good question.
A question that reminded me about a passage in Paulo Coelho’s Pilgrimage. The main character was eager to find the sword. So eager that he did not realize that before finding the sword, he had to answer the most important question: “What will you do when you find the sword?”
I am still uncertain about my answer. Perhaps it is a step toward a childhood dream to become a doctor. I used to want to be a doctor so I can spend half of my time making money and the other half helping people.
Or perhaps it is a make-up time. I remembered the helplessness I felt when I was volunteering to help victims of the Jakarta’s major flood. So many suffering, so little I could do.
I don’t know. But I know when it is time, I will know what to do with it.
For the time being, I would like to thank the CST team (and new friends) for the great experience. Thanks to the city of Singapore that has always been kind (and professional and efficient!) to me.
A special thanks to Yolli, Hany, and Andien for letting me stay at their places. Nila and Mike for the great veggie meal. A warm hug to all whom I met during my visit to Singapore this time round.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
Throughout the 11 days of the TB2 meditation, I spent 10 of them observing the noble silence. Noble silence means “silence of body, speech, and mind. Any form of communication with fellow student, whether by gestures, sign language, written notes, etc., is prohibited.
Participants may, however, speak with the teacher whenever necessary and they may approach the management with any problems related to food, accommodation, health, etc. But even these contacts should be kept to a minimum. We should cultivate the feeling that we are working in isolation.”
Surprisingly, not talking to the people around me was not my biggest challenge. Perhaps it was because I did not know them so well. We had just met and chatted several hours before so the emotional bond was not there yet.
My biggest challenge, I found, was the fact that I could not write and tell stories (verbal or in writing) to my friends.
I miss telling stories to my friends—to you—and sharing my impressions with them—with you. I miss my friends—miss you. It took 10 days of noble silence to help me realize how much sharing with my friends—with you—mean to me.
The hills and the clouds gave their second lesson:” Be patient. Wait until the process has finished, wait until it is all clear to you, then share your stories”.
The moon, which hanged around until 7Am that day, augmented the lesson: “The friends will still be there when you finish, waiting for your to return to them.”
[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]
I was sitting down at the dining table when I saw a bird fell. It fell down hard. I extended my neck, trying to look what was wrong with the bird. It turned out that a couple of kids had thrown stone at him. *grrrhh*
The two children running enthusiastically to approach the bird. I watched them, unsure what to do. I just sat and watched.
Just as the two children were only about one meter from the bird, wooshhh, the bird flew. It flew strong, leaving the two children empty handed.
Too bad I was in my noble silence. Otherwise, I would have clapped and cheered at the bird. That is: Bird 1, Human 0.
In comedy, timing is everything, my friend. Timing is everything.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
When you stood up in front of your client to defend your team, do you do that out of professionalism, out of love and care for the team, or out of anger to the client?
When you stop a father from hitting a child (God forbid), do you do that out of love to the child or out of disgust for the father?
When you shout “stop corruption!”, do you should in the name of justice and welfare for all, or out of hatred to the corrupts?
Anger, disgust, and hatred are negative emotions no matter what the reasons may be. They create scars in our souls. They taint even the best deeds. Take good care.
-from the talk delivered by Pak Merta Ade
[Bahasa Indonesia]
Do you know that caterpillar needs to find its own way out of its pupa to become a butterfly?
If, for instance, you have the good intension to help the caterpillar out by cutting its pupa, then the would-be butterfly would not have strong enough wing muscles to allow it to fly.
If you try to make it easy for it, the would-be butterfly would not go through that series of muscle training when it is crawling out of its pupa.
Sometimes you just need to do it and go through it yourself to really understand and build your bodily and mind muscles. *Justification mode on ;)*
-from the talk delivered by Pak Merta Ade
Pic taken from here.
[Bahasa Indonesia]
I cannot remember when the last time a teacher (or supervisor) got more excited than myself about what I did. That was how I felt when I went to see my Bali Usada health meditation teacher Pak Merta Ade on my third day of TB2.
I went to his porch. When he saw me walking towards him, Pak Merta Ade got up and with a huge smile he looked me in the eyes and shook my hand firmly. “I am so glad to see you join TB2. You participated in TB1 and now TB2. Good. Very good,” he said excitedly. I felt honored.
The conversation went on. I told him about my challenges.
I told him about how I felt a lot of discomfort whenever I tried feeling the six characteristics of the earth element in my body.
I said that every time I got to that earth stage, I just moved on from one characteristic to another very fast.
Pak Merta said, “That means you are already sensitive enough to feel the element. Then if and when you feel you are ready, try to stay a little longer, feel the sensation, and sense the impermanence, that everything will eventually change.”
I was impressed how he managed to say it positively. He did not scolded me for dodging the discomfort I felt and say “You are wrong. That is not how you are supposed to do it. Don’t be so weak. Face the pain and discomfort.”
Instead, he used the words “when you feel you are ready.” There was not a single judgmental or negative word in the sentences.
That is why he is the teacher and I am the student ☺
[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]
This is where I spent my 11 TB2 meditation days.
It is amazing how such static picture of nature can provide such rich and dynamic experience. A new lesson every single day. Every single hour. Every single minute. Every single second. Depending how open we are to the experience.
[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.
