in the face of death

Dearest world, 

Don't ask me how I came up with all these questions. They're just there, in my head, suddenly, as I was bumping in my chair on the rusty bus on my way to the office one morning.

Have I dream enough?

One of my colleagues is leaving the job for a scholarship abroad, in the major that she loves. Another colleague is leaving for another job that servers her higher purpose in life, that is teaching and social works. My other colleague, having recently found out that she's an introvert, realized that she needs to find another job if she wants to stay healthy.

Then came the next question: Have my life been useful enough?

They said a life worth living is the one that gives benefit to other people. Then I wonder, does quantity  matter in this case?

Because I am very sure that up until today, my existence in this world benefits only a very limited number of people, even further down to not more than my mother and my daughter. 

Does it make my existence in this world less useful then?

And the next question: as I was standing at the platform this morning waiting for the train, feeling the morning wind breezing, softly blowing my long tunic and trousers, all black, nothing fancy or fashionable in any way: Do I have what it takes to charm?

Do I need it?

What does it take to charm people actually? And why?

Once I got to the office, I immediately share this pointless reverie to a very dear friend, who then replied by relating to her recent dream about how she met her own death. She said, you know dear, none of those questions you've just asked, none of them matter in the face of death.

And that was the truest truth, bold enough to answer all my questions. 

I'm not against asking questions, indulging the noisy whys and hows moving back and forth in your head, especially those of you with that relentless mind constantly throwing thoughts of the most random topics in the unlikeliest times.

Don't shut them down (because you won't be able to do that anyway). But keep in mind, that there are times when you have to learn to accept things for what they are, because some of them do not really matter in the end.

on the success of small things

I was sitting on a commuter bus stuck in a traffic jam right in front of office buildings and malls when my eyes caught a sight of a woman walking alone on the pavement. There's actually nothing special about her. She's just one of the busy people in the crowd leaving the office building, heading to somewhere on that late afternoon. She wore a black, long, jacket with belt on the waist, a black trousers and a black stiletto shoes, and carried a black leather suitcase. Well maybe that's one thing that I found rather unusual. Her appearance was rather different than the usual pretty career woman with colorful dress and matching bags or shoes. She looked very professional and smart. And at that late cloudy afternoon in Jakarta, she walked alone out of the office building, carrying her leather suitcase, walking to the electronic store nearby. Probably she went there to buy a modem, or a memory stick, or an external hard disk. Or perhaps she just went there to buy a cup of coffee from the coffee shop at the ground floor of the store.

I'd never know because by the time she entered the building my bus has turned to another direction.

But I kept thinking about her. She reminds me of a picture of a sucessful career woman my parents used to have years ago. Smart dressed and powerful, enjoying her time alone at her early thirties, going to the bookstore or a cafe, spending her money the way she likes and  going home at whatever hours she felt comfortable after roaming around the luxurious malls.


To be honest, the enjoying her time alone part probably belong to my imagination, not my parents.

But that was also pretty much the way I had pictured success when I was a kid.

Now after reminiscing the past days I realized that it never crossed my mind that there were other people out there, working as journalists, photographers, dancers, painters, florists, owner of a small bookshops, owner of a small coffee shops, owner of a small music school, people devoted their lives for less tangible things. I am very sure I have came across those people during my adolescence years, but somehow, it never occurred to me that these people work. And succeeded. It seems I had never gave them a thought, and nor did my parents. Or most parents, I suppose.


Recently, I had a conversation with a few colleagues and it got me thinking how success has always been associated with being in a high position in a big corporation. While admiring some people who actually have reached that high position at a very young age, I can't help but wonder what is wrong with living a simple, modest life?


If I have the opportunity, I'd choose to work in a small book shop, in a place that's far from the crowd and noise of the city chaos.


I think this is where the saying 'money is the means not the goals' comes in.


I'd still be needing a constant flow of money to be able to enjoy my quiet life as after my work in the small book shop. But that would be the furthest role money has in my life: a facilitator for me to be able to enjoy life the way I want. The way I want to enjoy life might be different from other people, and it is a very subjective measurement. And this, I think, is where the saying 'money is never enough to satisfy you' comes in. No matter how much money you have, it won't be enough, not if you keep wanting more and more. It's a matter of knowing your limit, and a willingness to live life in its essence.


Again, this is me. Other people might think that it's important to have many other things they don't have yet right now and really, I don't want to judge. Some people do need the things they want to have, some others simply just want to have the things for the sake of having it. I'm learning to be very careful now not to confuse the two.


But I just think it's important to revisit the picture of success that we have.


Some people are made for big things, destined to walk around the earth with sophisticated dress and glossy shoes entering a high rise building, meeting important people, dealing with big scenarios of the nation. I admire them. All the efforts they made to be where they are now, all the time they spent working hard to achieve the sophisticated life that they want. They deserve it and I believe they have a significant contribution to this world.


But there are also some people that are made for smaller things, or rather, less glossy things. These people might not in a high position, might not be a part of a big corporation or organization. They don't have glossy shoes and leather bag. They don't work in a high rise building working on big scenarios involving big money for the nation or a corporation owns the nation or probably even owns half of the world. Or they probably working on a big scenario for the nation but instead of glossy shoes and leather bag, they probably carry a backpack, roaming around the remote islands in this country, wearing casual outfit and rubber sandal. Or they might not be involved at all in a big scenario of the nation. They probably live their life from day to day taking care of flowers, or making beautiful hand crafts to be sold, or teaching little kids singing at local schools, and going to the traditional market every late afternoon to buy food and vegetables and cook for their families. Probably smaller things, but just as significant as the big things.


They are the hands behind the colors you see at the florist or someone else's garden. They are the hands behind the laughter of the children studying on a rundown building of local schools. They are the hands behind the full stomach and burps you might hear on the family dining room. They are the hands behind the small beauties in the world. Small, but not less significant.


I just think, that these people, also need to be recognized of creating a meaningful life, despite what the society defines about success.


They might have the capability to rise above others and speed their way to the highest position in an important company or organization, but they choose the smaller role in life because that's what they want, because there's where their heart lies. There are nothing wasted about them. They are people devoting their life for their passion, for the good of others, far away from the spotlight but working as hard as those who are under it. I think they need to be recognized for their courage to live their truth no matter how unimpressive those things are.

Absolutely nothing wasted about them.

the moral of the story?

I was having a really bad day at the office yesterday. Not that it's the first time. Looking back, that has always been the case with my job for the past six years: deadlines, crazy deadlines, friendly deadlines, I-understand-your-workload-but-sorry-what-else-can-I-do deadlines, chaotic environment filled with tension, people hurrying by to catch up with whatever it is running ahead of them, trying to get ahead of everything.


That was my introvert, HSP self talking.  


There are times when my less than 1% extrovert self (yes, I still believe that I actually have this, the test system just failed to recognize it) coming out and decided to take the front line, and see things rather differently. That it has always been a good place to work. That it's actually the best place to grow, full of challenges and experiences of new things you might never heard of before. That it's actually a place that will boost your confidence by taking you involved in big things, big scenarios, access to classified information, meeting important people. That those tensions, that chaotic environment, will be from time to time, filled with the sounds of people throwing jokes, laughter everywhere, victory scream over new business wins, friendly faces smiling over small unimportant things of our everyday lives.


I learn not to judge what my two sides of self see. They do have their positive and negative sides, though I am perfectly aware that I will always be gravitated to what I truly am: the introvert, the HSP, the unsent, the one that doesn't fit in. 


In some days, I can walk into the office calm, composed, collected, full of control of myself, ready to take any challenges offered by the day. In some days, I would walk in miserably, feeling frustrated by the chaotic environment, intimidated by deadlines that haven't even existed (yet). Yesterday was one of those days. With two deadlines waiting, the HSP in me that were on active mode started to panic. It wasn't a good condition and I collapsed, layer by layer, throughout the day. 


I finished my work for the day. Some of them. But I felt torn apart; my pride was torn apart, the idea I have about myself was challenged to the point of questioning my very existence in this world; am I just one of those passerby? One of the dying soul walking around the earth simply trying to make ends meet before the end comes and take away everything life is?


I spent the two hours going home trying to fight the tears I knew wouldn't be able to come out anyway. Just glistening moist at the corner of my eyes. My chest was full with emotions and my head was full with thoughts, both I have no control of. They were swirling, turning around, and I was so sure that I was going to cry last night. 


But then, not so far from my house, I saw some kids playing ular naga panjangnya. It's a traditional game I used to play when I was a little kid. I live in a suburban area, thus it is actually not uncommon to find children playing traditional games. But seeing those kids forming a row, singing and giggling while moving in a snake-like motion last night somehow brought a smile to my face. I suddenly thought of the days when I was one of those kids, singing and giggling under the moonlight. For a brief moment, I could feel the excitement I used to have while running around bare feet with my little friends in front of our houses. It was brief, but it was able to lift the heavy feeling off my chest. So last night, despite the intimidating day I had previously, I reached home with lighter heart and a smile on my face. And I'm really thankful for it.


I felt grateful how some things, are, comfortably, remains the same, especially within our heart. Now I see why.


So, dearest people, what is the moral of the story? I don't know. I don't think I've started this blog post with such a noble idea to give and moreover, to highlight a valuable lesson. At least not this time. I don't know what the moral of the story is, and I'm not planning to dig deeper into my brain to find out about it anytime soon. I started this blog post with a rather selfish intention, that is to let you know that I was having a bad day and unable to deal with it, I've let it ruining my day, but then I managed to came home smiling because of some kids playing ular naga panjangnya. 


Was it about finding the silver lining in the sky? Was it about having positive thought in your hardest times? Was it about finding peace within yourself? I don't know. 


I just remembered that when I opened the gate of my house last night, I sighed, and thinking, oh such an old wisdom, never fades in time. 


But what was it, really?




South Jakarta, in the middle of this chaotic place, while waiting for my research plan being reviewed

It's when things seem worst that you must not quit

The first time I read it was in my university's agenda about ten years ago.


I didn't know who wrote this but these are the words that has helped me going through my tough times years ago, back when I was just graduated from college.


I've lost the agenda a year after that, but I never forget the words.


Yesterday, I found them again here and I thought I'd just share it in my blog.


They never fail to boost my spirit, especially the last two lines.
So here goes.


When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit-
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.


Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out.


Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.


Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint in the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It might be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.


Blok M, 9.17 am, a restless mind

An Introvert Breaking the Habit

A few weeks ago I went to a fast breaking with a couple of close friends from when I was still in college. Some of them are friends that I still maintain contact with and we meet at least once a month just for coffee and small talks (that could last for five to six hours, cafe hopping). The others are friends that I haven't been in contact with since college, except for a text message on Idul Fitri, or occasional comments on Facebook.


Gathering and even reunion with old friends are commonly found during Ramadhan. I got many invitations, started from college friends to friends from junior high school, but I never attend it. I never really turn them down right there and then, simply because I didn't want to offend them. But I think, over time they finally learned that I just don't go to such gatherings. They keep sending me invitations, but I think they knew that I wouldn't show up.


Some of my friends start questioning my behavior, thinking that there is something wrong with me. Some speculated that it must be the painful break up that I had just undergone a few years ago. And they said, I really need to pull myself together and move on. Meet new people, have fun. Forget about the past.


That's what I thought I felt too.


About two months ago I accidentally found the MBTI personality test. I actually had taken the test a few years ago and I've already learned that I am an INFJ. But it wasn't until two months ago that I started digging on more materials on the subject. From what I found on the subject, I learned that there is nothing wrong with me. I finally could see that it's not about the break up and how I failed to overcome the trauma, or me being socially incapable. I have always been that kind of person since a long time ago. I just had the chance to realize it now. It was a relieve because I have always thought that I'm different from normal people and it needs to be fixed.. 


As an introvert, I constantly need a certain period of time alone. While others recharged through parties and gatherings, I recharged by having quiet time alone with myself. Sometimes I'd do some activities like writing or painting, sometimes I'd just do nothing, just sitting by the window and sip my coffee or tea. I just realized I did that a lot, even when I'm home during the weekend. I would sit in front of my computer in my room for hours, writing or doing some photo editing or digital painting. I'd let my daughter coming in and going out of the room to check on me once in a while, or when she feels like it, she'd sit next to me, occupying herself by drawing or creating stories. (Now that I think of it, I realized that I should be really grateful for having her as a daughter. She's seven years old, yet she seems to understand that there are times that I just don't want to be disturbed. She'd smile and shake her head while looking at me, saying, 'Bun, you forget everything once you start sitting there and painting').


I also learned from the materials I found that it is important for the introverts to have their daily dose of quiet alone time to keep their sanity intact. Some people may find this strange, but actually it's only a matter of different ways of operating in social interaction. 


I usually don't feel hesitant to go out if it is to meet people I'm most comfortable with, and that consists of a limited number of close friends. But there are times, when I feel quite drained and need my solitude, that I decide not to meet even my closest friends. I never really try to explain this to my friends, because, honestly, I don't know how.


But I also realized that I don't have to always indulge my habit.  While I think it might be good to let my friends know that I'm okay and I don't need social interaction booster, I also think that there are times when I need to break the routine once in a while; to go and meet them even when I don't feel like to.


One of the recent examples was the fast breaking gathering I mentioned earlier. I went there despite feeling that I'd rather go home and sit myself on the bed and read some books. I made the right decision because it was really nice, and I really had a good time meeting them. We still contact each other until now, and even sending broadcast message within our whatsapp group a few times a day. Broadcast message has always been considered to be the most annoying thing in mobile phone interaction, yet nobody in the group seems to complain. I can even say I enjoy it. It's less disturbing compared to text messages (where you usually required to reply immediately), and it keeps you updated of what your friends are doing without having the obligation to reply immediately, because there will always be someone else replying first. 


A few days after that, I was faced with another situation where I had to go to a family gathering. It was the third times that month, all of them were held during the weekend, where I was supposed to have a quiet time alone. I went to the first and the second because I felt like to at the time. By the time they told me that there's going to be another family gathering, I started to form an escape plan. It was a moment when I was very snappish, due to the lack of alone time, and I knew that at times like that the best thing to do for me was to stay in my room for hours until I feel calmed and gain my energy back.


But I came to the gathering anyway. 


We were asked to gather at my aunt's house because she was severely ill and her condition is worsening. I love my aunt. She's one of the person from my childhood that I'd remember the most. So I went there to see her. She looked so happy seeing her nieces and nephews and grandchildren, and she told my Mom that she hadn't been this happy since months ago.


So I guess, I did the right thing.


It might be a torture at the beginning, but I think doing extra effort to go and meet the people you love and care about, would worth it. To find that you are actually happy being around them, and that they actually love to have you around, would worth it.


I learned that it is important to know yourself and what works best for you, but it is also important to be flexible and tolerate, when needed. Love, and caring, are the operative words, I suppose :)




Bintaro, 6.30 am

sadness

Probably you're sad. Probably you're happy. Probably you're missing someone. Probably you're anxious. Probably you're disappointed.

Be grateful, as they only show that your heart is still intact.

-Pidi Baiq, my all time favorite tweeter-

I've always thought of sadness as disturbance to a supposed to be perfect, happy life. 
It's poisonous, and like a disease, it eats you from the inside. You don't want to be anywhere near it, since its negative energy, silent as it may seems, reaches out to its surrounding, to the farthest distance possible. Its invisible claws haunting you, its nasty breath hovering on your back, making you feeling the feeling of never ending anticipation of what might come next and would it be sadness?


It reminded me of dementor.
And I despised it.


I despised the way it makes me feel.
I despised the way it caught my breath and suffocated me. The way it takes words from my mouth and leave me speechless.
I despised the way it makes me crawl on the bed and cry myself to sleep.
I despised the way it makes me feel like there's a constant lacking in my life, for I cannot smile on a sunny day, and I cannot laugh when the world is roaring with laughter.
I despised the way it makes me feel imperfect.


But over time I realized, that it might not always be the case.
I learned what perfect means. I learned what laughter means. I learned what happiness means. And though I will still have to continue learning for there's just so many things I don't understand about life, I learned a few things.


Sadness is haunting.
It won't stop on your front door. It will keep on knocking until you open the door. It will come inside without invitation, sitting in your living room, quietly absorbing everything that is you. There's nothing you can do to stop it from appearing every now and then around you. Running away from it will not do you any good either.



So don't. No need to.
No need to run away from sadness, the way you run from dementors.
No need to push yourself to create happiness, they way we should create patronus.
While dementors are not something you can embrace, that's not the case with sadness.


To acknowledge it, accept, and embrace it, would be the best way to deal with it. 
It's part of yourself, part of your emotion asking for your attention. It's a dialogue you're having with yourself, only in slightly different manner. There are dark clouds and thunder accompanying. But we need them from time to time, to calm us down when the sunshine gets too bright.


So don't run away cause it means no harm. 


You can always preserve happiness and keep it in your heart forever. But it won't stop you from feeling a sadness when it comes knocking on your door. Let it in and sit silently in your living room. Let it do its job, to appear, and make itself known and  noted. Give it a pat on the back, and sit with it until it's passed. 


It'll pass.


I've learned that when it has to end, it ends. It ends, and there's no guarantee that it will not come again. But while you're sitting with it, you can always visit the happiness that you have preserved in your heart. Or when it gets too heavy, you can always look around for signs of happiness. 


It could be small things, like a cup of coffee in the morning, a smile from fellow commuters in the morning train, a happy song sang by street singers, or a sincere greetings from your colleagues in the office. 


In my case, it was the morning sun I saw from my window couple of days ago, that reminded me that there will still always be things to appreciate, and reasons to smile, even the smallest smile, during your toughest times.


Kindly remember that, Self :)




Bintaro, 10.45 am

Extremely Difficult

Thursday afternoon, the Chinese New Year.
I was trying to get some me time; write some things that have been occupying my mind in the past few weeks, watch some movies that have been stuck in the shelves for the past few weeks, or simply sit and drink my coffee.
So I woke up and cleaning up the house as usual. Expecting to have some quiet contemplation moment in front of the computer screen afterward.
The house cleaning process which was scheduled to be completed not more than 30 minutes continued until about 1.5 hour afterwards, constantly disrupted by small requests from Mom and my daughter to do this and that, repair this and that, and also breakfast.
After breakfast, I made some coffee and sat myself on the chair, facing my laptop with high eagerness.
My quiet moments, finally.
But not yet.
Mom had this idea of going to the mall to repair her glasses. And my daughter thinks it’s a good idea. Because she wanted to have some ice cream. And a new note book. Or bracelets.
About an hour of debate (with me persistently sitting in front of the laptop), it was finally decided that we are going to stay home, and buy the ice cream from the store nearby.
Of course, my daughter’s nagging didn’t stop there. She insisted to get her ice cream, like, there and then.
And while it was continuing, Mom asked me to cari uban.
I refused politely, telling her that I got some things to do. Obviously, with the laptop open.
I think she was a bit upset but I tried to ignore it. I’ve been waiting for weeks to be able to have some quiet moments without being disrupted by any unwanted visitors or phone calls (yes, the last several weekends were full of never ending knocks on the door, children coming and going, phone ringing from time to time, from morning till late in the afternoon).
This weekend, all the relatives are on vacation. No children howling about. No non-stop ringing phone. I couldn’t be possibly let this one perfect holiday go.
I think I’d just decided to stick with my laptop and tried to make some letters appear on the computer screen, when it was suddenly time for lunch. Which was then followed with my daughter’s afternoon nap. Where I’d be needed to tuck her in her bed and accompany her until she falls asleep. Because she refused to be left alone. And would not let me read or write anything (because if I do, she’d do the same thing instead of sleeping). That, would take about half an hour.
When she finally fell asleep, my Mom had already fallen asleep to.
Some quiet moments in one quiet afternoon. Finally.
I sat in front of the TV, and start typing.
But I forgot that the second generation women in the family were not taught and brought up to live normal and enjoy their lives. A life worth living is a life where you suffer through it. Never ending house chores and lack of sleep is the most quoted example. Sleep, is not only a waste of time. It’s a sin when you do it in the middle of the day for more than 30 minutes.
Not long after I found something to write, my Mom woke up. And amazingly, while most normal human waking up feeling lightheaded and a bit dizzy and require 1-2 minutes to fine tune their coordinates with the world, my Mom (and most of the second generation women in my family), wake up, with a clear sense of objective, what to do right after they wake up. Clean this, clean that, and sorts.
So there was my Mom, waken up in full consciousness, heading right up to the fridge, and attempted to take off the waste water container.
I wondered whether she’d been dreaming of cleaning the fridge in her sleep to have such firm sense of objective right after she woken up.
She said she needed my help.
So I helped her with the water container and sat myself again in front of the laptop, when my daughter’s suddenly cried and called me from the bedroom.
And I know that my quiet moment has ended.
So that's what became of it.
Quiet moments.
Extremely. 
Difficult.


Pinggiran Jakarta, 6.30 pagi hari