\ Finding Valhalland //

A small point of return

I am no longer separated from my spiritual life in the way I used to be, but I’m separated from almost everything else. I don’t even look the same to myself. My face is pretty familiar, but there’s an expression in it I don’t recognize. I try to ask that person, “What is going on, Ai?” she’s only shrugs her shoulders. She doesn’t know either. Friends call me on the phone: I don’t know what to say. When I try to call them: I suddenly speechless like I’ve been married to silence. Last night, like any other night I’ve been thru: I feel more alone than ever. Like, nobody knows me. For God sake I don’t even know me. (Laugh Out Loud) I don’t know exactly what I want. I’m a person who doesn’t know what I want in this life …

But when I call my Mum … things is getting better and better …

It’s a small point of return …

Valhalland, February 28^th, 2007

Friends: >>

Milo

Location: >> my room <<

A must to do: >> in the middle of writing for small research <<

Mimpiku tentang Ayah

Aku bawa mobil hitam, berjalan di belakang mobil merah BMW yang dikendarai oleh seorang sopir pria. Sepertinya dia sopir pribadiku. Mama yang duduk di sebelahku berkata bahwa mobil di depan jalannya tidak benar. Ternyata benar, ban mobil melindas kaleng soda dan merusak karet ban. Mobil merah itu menepi, aku pun mengikuti. Sang sopir keluar, tapi bukannya mengecek ban, ia malah membuka mesin dan mencabut kabel-kabel yang ada. Mengangkat aki dan mengosonginya, lalu aku pun keluar dari mobil dan menghampiri sang sopir. Kutanya, apa yang rusak, dan dia bilang, “Saya minta satu juta untuk memperbaiki ini.” Aku marah bukan main. Ngomel tidak karuan, dan di situ – berdekatan dengan sang sopir, berdiri seorang pria yang juga peduli dengan rusaknya mobil. Pria itu masih kelihatan muda. Sepertinya, dalam mimpiku, dia adalah ayahku.

Aku yang masih marah-marah berjalan menuju sebuah toko milik ayahku atau mungkin toko itu adalah langganan ayahku. Aku masuk toko dan langsung teriak pada sopirku, “You are fired!” (dalam mimpi itu aku juga menggunakan bahasa inggris). Beberapa orang laki-laki yang berada di toko itu keberatan dengan keputusanku dan bahkan menyalahkan mamaku untuk itu. Aku semakin kalap. “Fuck you all! You dont know my mom. So dont speak anything about my mom!” Dua kali kalimat itu kuucapkan.

Aku sambil menangis berkata lirih, tapi cukup bisa didengar, “forgodsake! She just divorced!”

Kemudian ku lihat ayahku – dengan gambaran seorang laki-laki goodlooking dan masih tampak muda (at least I thought that he was my dad), berdiri di depanku seperti sedang membayar sesuatu di kasir. Aku melihatnya, dia melihatku pula. Aku langsung menjabat tangannya, mengucapkan terima kasih, “Thank you for everything …” dan aku menangis, dan ayahku itu langsung memelukkku, memegang wajahku yang sudah berlinang air mata, dan kutetap berkata, “Thank you for the wonderful birthday party. It was so beautiful.” Dia pun menangis, dan aku histeris.

Kemudian ku terbangun, dengan wajahku yang basah linangan air mata. Ternyata aku sudah lama nangis nya Aku bangun dan menyelesaikan tangisanku, trus lihat jam yang menunjukkan pukul 4.35, trus ambil pen ama kertas, nulis ni mimpi, trus masuk kamar mandi.

Valhalland, 27 February 2007

Only For Your Information: Ayahku mengirim sebuah SMS, bahwa kakak iparnya di Magelang meninggal tanggal 28 Februari 2007, pukul 3:32 PM.

Clandestine

Sacred secret lies under other name: white lie. I’ve done this secretive meeting with someone, and somehow I feel terribly bad. But white lie must go on to aim a good deed later on. I’m in an effort to make two people to be friend again. Well, not so many people know exactly what am I going to talk about here, but few of them will understand. But the last time I try to make things better, I blew it up. I messed up and things went upside down: they become hating each other more than before.

I just want to say, that there is no way we can avoid hurting others or being hurt by others, because this is exactly the nature of our imperfection. The secretive meeting happened because of one’s withdrawal. If I design another Celestine Meet-Up to make things better, I’m so afraid that I will make another mistake – like the McD tragedy.

Life is too short to love, why we hate each other? Why withdraw from our new chavruse? I want us to be together again. I don’t need forgiveness from you … but do not punish me with your ignorance … the tense in the group is one I cannot stand. Group, can we be friend again? We just have a nice start …

Valhalland, February 27^th 2007.

To be or not to be married

Pak Bernie, my lecturer, asked us to write about an ethical dilemma which we faced in life. Then my thoughts came up with an idea to put my friend’s ethical dilemma which she often to discuss with me, whether marriage is an option or an obligation. Below is my writing to the class, and secretly, Pak Bernie discussed it without telling to the class whose the writing. Thank you so, Pak Bernie. I feel glad that you love my tiny writing.

“Being single is fun for fearless females. But avoiding marriage for them is a dangerous choice. Both religion and social culture had involved deeply in women’s marriage life and choices. For several women, marriage is a matter of an option rather than an obligation. When women choose not to marry, (suddenly) society had its right to judge that the women had neglected their destiny. Being virgin is such a shameful thing to do – and merely a sin. Deep inside every woman’s heart lied their need to be loved and free at the same time. And marriage had often not become the solution for these, but it always consider as it by society. Is ‘marriage’ an obligation or an option for women? Who decide that ‘married women’ is better than ‘single women whom delay their marriage’ or women who did not (choose not) to marry?”

Answer that, ladies … gentlemen …

I have mine, tied me so tight in my finger

Valhalland, 26-February-2007

I Know Why Caged ‘lil Girl Sings

“But a caged bird stands on a grave of dream

His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

His wings are clipped and his feet are tied

So he opens his throat to sing”

(Maya Angelou, in I know why caged bird sings)

Once, I ever wrote a novel. Once, I wrote diaries everyday. Once, I always writing something. Anything. Anything. My childhood … everything. I consider the book is full of song lyrics – could be the sad one, but sometime full of joy. Maya Angelou reminded me again about how precious the songs that I’ve written are. It’s a writing of a caged little girl which now gain her freedom – though bit by bit life is not getting easy. And since it is difficult to fly, I choose to sing and write down my song lyrics. I let people hear my song and sometime asking them to sing with me. And yes, it is so dreadfully beautiful how Maya Angelou can take her specific struggle as a black woman in

America

and write something universal. [ ]

:: A Girl by The Window ::

Malam itu dia dan aku berjalan cukup panjang. Dari kota A ke kota B. Pembicaraan yang terjadi seputar banyak hal, seperti coklat, kopi, muffin, donut, dan nasi liwet. Kadang kita juga berbicara hal-hal berat seputar sushupti, ajna, anapanasati. Sesekali kita membuat iri tukang sate atau pejalan kaki yang lain karena riuhnya obrolan. Dan semuanya berhenti ketika,

“Hi … aku Frankie”
“Hi … aku Johny”

Sayangnya, aku bukan Frankie. Aku wanita di balik jendela yang cuma bisa menatap, mengagumi, dan memiliki Johny dari kejauhan. Sama seperti ku menyaksikan pertemuan anomali Frankie & Johny; yang cuma sekedar, ‘hi frankie, hi johny’ …
: kemudian, seperti apa rasanya berkenalan kembali dengannya?

Mungkin seperti ini:

“Hi … Vyasa di sini”

Dan tanpa Frankie, Johny berada di sampingku dan kita berjalan lagi cukup panjang. Dari kota B ke kota A. Pembicaraan yang terjadi pun sudah seputar svadhistana.

“Dan aku Johny …”

15 februari 2007, Valhalland.

Kemarin di lempuyangan, aku ngebayangin betapa asyiknya jika aku ketemu ma Ayu (anak Anand Ashram). Satu hal pengin kubagi ama dia adalah, rasa kangennya ama meditasi bareng di Ashram. Tak lama, sebelum kereta berangkat, aku lihat seorang wanita lari-lari beli tiket. Gilaaa!! Itu Ayu. Wah Duh! Ngepas banget yah. Kado yang indah di Val-day. TerimakasihTuhan. Kamu tahu yang kumau.

Di kereta, kita yang sudah 2 tahun nggak ketemuan … berpeluk rindu ngobrol terus hingga di berhenti di Purwosari dan aku terus ke Balapan.

See you soon, Yu’!

Heal The World[1]

I feel it with my body, with my blood, feeling all these trees, all this country … if you feel sore … headache, sore body; that mean somebody killing tree or grass. You feel because your body in that tree or earth … you might feel it for two or three years. You get weak … little bit … little bit … because going bit by bit … dying.[2]

Earth is a living thing. If mankind understands about this essential thing, none of disasters alleged as strangeness. The strange weather we had nowadays is an accumulation of the Earth’s pain. In 1969, James Lovelock and Lynn Margulis developed Gaia theory (Gaia Hypothesis). The hypothesis proposes that living organisms and inorganic material are part of a dynamic system that shapes the Earth’s biosphere. Earth itself is viewed as an organism. If we hurt the Earth, the hurt will bounce back on us. The only solution: living politely with no pollution – which is I think it’s very a utopian solution.

For people whom involve in such movement like Reiki, Shamballa, or even Sahaja Yoga, they know method to heal the world. The spiritual practices such us meditation and grounding can heal the sick Earth by transferring our positive energy to the Earth. The method is very simple. All we have to do is sit in the position like people doing yoga or meditation, and then pray for the Great Power, God, Great Spirit, and touch the ground with your hand and the energy is transferred. You don’t need to join spiritual movement to do this, you don’t need magic or supernatural power to heal the world. One you should have is good will, positive thinking and love for humanity, earth and God. Once you had that kind of Love, you can heal the world. And imagine if all the people doing the same good things we do. [ ]