one

today you are one
a little story of our own
a statement of grace, a proof of miracle.

one you are today
and many more may come your way
be courageous and truthful, be swift and helpful.

your presence a healing, a source of joy
your absence a longing, come return soon.

our little one, our morning sun
run if so you want
and catch your dream, your path
jump if so you dare
and grab those shining stars
cry if so you feel
then laugh again with merriment, strength and new determination.

may you stay forever you.

lebaran

realising a long-planned trip is always a nice thing to do. especially when the trip is for a vacation. high expectation lingers until the day come when you finally can go. you pack those bags, mark the check list of things to do, to bring, to settle, and so on. 

this year's 'idul fitri' public holiday is being spent there in bandung and then here in malang - where i write this note. 

earlier this week, i took a seventeen hour trip on malabar train from bandung in west java, to malang, here in the east. no, it was not the quickest way to get here from jakarta. but compared to the exhausting traffic jam experienced by those travelling with cars - it's not the slowest method either. 

we know 'mudik' is not always just about to be the fastest to arrive at home, or the longest holiday break; it's about the time spent with family. a reunion, or 'silaturahmi'.

soon i will be back to the capital city; soon works will resume; soon the crowds will shift; and soon deadlines will emerge the horizon. better summon up the optimism, flex the muscles, warm up a little bit, and then get prepared for whatever the coming weeks may bring! 

calea victoriei

this very afternoon i wandered alone through the calea victoriei in bucharest city. those light steps were perhaps similar to the ones i took fourteen years ago when i last came here in 2002, and also a year before - the time i first visited romania in 2001.

there are several unthinkable experiences in your life that you feel so humbled to encounter. deeply grateful. when your sight was curiously taken back through time, seeing yourself walking, and then you are amazed to realise something. your heart is capable to feel and understand - even though perhaps your mind couldn't hardly derive any conclusion.

this is the same bucuresti. with its calea, piata, strada and, located in orlando ten, the ambasada republicii indonezia. that was where i, as a curious stranger, used to play badminton with other curious strangers.

who knows where will i be in the next fourteen or fifteen years? what would bucharest be like? i need no definite answer.

to me, more than anything - this third visit to romania feels as if a curtain has been shed and a window has been opened before my eyes. enabling me to recollect, reflect and always be thankful. for the journey, the friendships, the compassions, the lessons, that shape this attitude, which i probably shall carry through the rest of my life.

harpers ferry

"...perhaps it's the color of the sun cut flat and coverin' the crossroad i'm standin' at. or maybe it's the weather or somethin' like that. but mama, you been on my mind..."

name

please tell me again - slowly if you can - how to correctly spell your name;
for i've tried it many times, with attempts to make it rhyme and sound quite like mine.

just right there and then - you said it again that everything happened for a reason;
and when i missed by a blink, how to correctly write your name, it also happened with a good lesson.

maybe i don't know the name. or maybe ours' is the same.

garden

went home for the second time this year. with a handful of things to do, things to say, things to remember and things to forget.

people to meet and people to greet. rendezvous of hearts, joyful days to celebrate, surrounded by relatives and friends.

the mandates i was tasked to carry and fulfil. the assignments entrusted upon me to complete. as a second secretary, and as a restless bee. trying to make sense of it all:

how long does it take for flowers to realise that the sun is shining and that the season is right for them to bloom?

snail

that morning while walking along a wet pavement,
he gently eased a snail to the safety of a grass
with his toe.
to spare anyone passing a dirty shoe
or the pain of even a small murder.
the snail did not know what had happened
and that its life had been spared -
and might even cross the pavement again -
but a giant the snail could not see or comprehend
had given it another chance of life.

"i wondered if perhaps the same had happened
to me some time in my life
when unbeknown to me,
some thing or some one
had gently eased me to safety
with the touch of a toe."

incognita

a note written with a date mark of april 27, several years ago - which i first discovered in my late oxford days. not quite sure who it was he, victor, wrote it for.

"...turn from the wall, and shrug off your coat of many sorrows. there are a thousand smiles waiting to guide you through the coming days.

turn not to the wall, but to the mirror, for there are eyebrow lines and white teeth so perfect that you overlooked them in your search for blemishes.

when the mirror has done with you, turn to the window, for the window can look back with different eyes and find those perfections, simply because you believe in them.

in the wall you will find nothing. in the mirror, you will find yourself. but in the window you will find whatever it is you seek.

someone else is somewhere looking through a window, which could in its turn become yours. i know you will not believe this, but that someone could find you beautiful.

for love sees no plainness or deformity within the window frame, only the clarity and perfection first seen in the mirrored image of the mind..."

and he concluded that love is always beautiful.

philly

by the delaware river high tide, under the blue - yellow pointy tents,
they entertained us with breathtaking acrobat and dance.
jumping and twisting in the air, bending and stretching like cats in a rush;
in fast motion - swinging and circling in round and round and round...

welcome to the world of rainbows, monsieur deja vu.

in retrospect

fate often has a funny way of circling around on you. it penetrates the dark, frequently through a small crack on the wall, a tiny opening on the ceiling, and then, unexpectedly, its dim light shines on you, as if just to guide you to the right way while you are in doubt.

not too long ago, seeing his son rushed here and there - while temper was in the air, my father said to me that i should slow down. don't move fast. take my time. because, "what god has meant to be yours, son, no one can take it away from you."

being reminded in such a calming way, especially by a man who has been your hero since you were small - make you feel not only relaxed but also trusting in something far greater than your comprehension. and each time i think of it now, i seem to be able appreciating better the sincerity of fate in narrating its storyline and plot for me.

redefining september

it is september now
september, for many years to come
every heart's adjusting
to this strict september drum

i see ten septembers in a row
with numbers on their days
display some new conclusions
which all of us have missed

so let's drink to when it's over
and let's drink to when we meet
i'll be standing on this corner
where there used to be a street.

the way you break the silence

i like the way you break the silence, i really do. i wish the aspiration of flight taps your shoulder, and hurriedly you are here. nearer and swifter than those red-winged blackbirds nesting among the reeds of dyke marsh.

and i will relate for you a story or two, that surely will draw moonshine into your eyes.

"look! round like a tennis ball, the moon is floating up there. yellow mellow looking at my shadow - silently - as if in doubt whether to greet in english or spanish. hola! hellow!"

the potomac river flows on. a breathtaking view from the key bridge that connects the banks of rosslyn and the darling streets of georgetown. the circus of the sun, the totem tale, unfolding at the fort of washington: not knowing if we shall be around on time, or will destiny's traffic lights chain our uncertain feet to the unpaved future's street where high hopes and egos meet. yet another simple twist of fate?

soon, on days like these, summer's leaves will cease to stay green, and autumn's chills will stand at the doorstep of september. a quiet music chanted by the stars above will be played for the siblings of dawn. like a butterfly excited by the presence of nectar in lilacs, i cherish the thoughts of you and your laughters - which are like flowers valentines can not buy.

onward...

contained in everything i do

there's a love i feel for you

proclaimed in everything i write

you're the light burning, brightly

onward through the night,

onward through the night of my life...

displayed in all the things i see

there's a love you show to me

portrayed in all the things you say

you're the day leading the way

onward through the night,

onward through the night of my life... 

sense of place

Seward, Alaska - May 2012

like reading a poem written on a nature's landscape,

a timeless tale narrated in a language of the northern lights.

the land of the last frontiers; a home of the whispering pines.

morning glory

once you see the deeper meaning
in doing what you love,
an occupation ceases to be an occupation,
but a spiritual experience.

that is what i see
in musical performances,
by artists like yes
and many others,
which inspire me
in awe and spiritual wonder,
in guessing whether -
what they feel -
while writing and performing their songs,
equals the excitement of ipomoea purpurea,
the morning glory flowers,
when touched by the morning sunlight.

i can only hope
to do the same
with my chosen
profession.

never bend with the rainfall

one of the most curious things that stumbled upon me recently during my last visit to new york was the sight of padlocks on brooklyn bridge: a bridge over troubled water.






every padlock must have a peculiar story. a unique tale of hearts that attempt to resist the stains of age. but who can really tell what it narrates. is it a riddle, or is it a clue? is it a statement or is it a puzzle? a secret or an announcement? you can guess their meanings.




securely locked to the various parts of the steel construction by the happy hands of lovers - whose hearts must have been filled with joy and amusement. perhaps they were trying to pledge that their blooming flowers of affection will never bend with the rainfall or snowflakes, and that throughout their journey in life their footsteps will always rhyme.



like promises made in the moments of contemplation, like the ancient motion of the seas, like every sparrow in the sky, like every leaf that trembles with the winter breeze, there is no inclination to look back in any mistake.





walk yourself across this historic landmark if you happen to visit the city of the big apple, the home of the empire state, the cradle of hopeful dreams and the land of twisting fates. find these symbols in a concrete jungle where dreams are made.





scenes from my last day in 2011. a walk from from manhattan to brooklyn. gazing at the skylines and the east river. pondering at the tunes and the lyrics of yesterday. i walked off and look for america.

storyteller of yesteryear

don't matter if the road is long,

don't matter if it's steep;

don't matter if the moon is gone,

don't matter if the darkness is complete;

don't matter if the page is gone,
it's written that we'll meet.

i loved you when you opened

like a lily to the heat;

and i'll love you when it closes,

a thousand kisses deep...

(l.c.)

...it was a long journey, deep into a winter, all the way across the field of snow. there was a village in lancester, pennsylvania, known as the home of the amish farmers and craftsmen.

...cherry blossoms. it was among the first signs of spring in washington dc.

...else than the meetings at the world bank and the imf.

...a pillow of winds. white spring flowers. blue ridge mountain. west virgina.

...and as the month of may arrived, buffalo crossed the road on our journey to yellowstone. spring time in wyoming.







...all the way. up there, a journey to the lone mountain trail, gallatin county - montana.







...in search for grizzly bears, moose, wolves.








...all under the big sky of montana.

...and then one day, hurray! met the travelling tom in a perfect day in alexandria summer. fresh air at last. "...and they sat together in the park, as the evening sky got dark. she looked at him, and he felt tingles to his bone. oh well, it was a simple twist of fate.." (dylan)

"..there were books, on a hill, but i never knew their meanings. no i never knew them at all..."







"...till there was you."

...history in the making. july nine at the national monument of washington dc. a day of miracles.

...another restless farewell (dylan's):

" oh all the money that in my whole life i did spend; be it mine right or wrongfully, i let it slip gladly past the hands of my friends, to tie up the time most forcefully. but the bottles are done, we've killed each one, and the table's full and overflowed. and the corner sign says it's closing time; so i'll bid farewell and be down the road.

oh ev'ry girl that ever i've touched, i did not do it harmfully; and ev'ry girl that ever i've hurt, i did not do it knowin'ly. but to remain as friends, and make amends, you need to have the time and stay behind. and since my feet are now fast, and point away from the past...i'll bid farewell, and be down the line...

oh ev'ry foe that ever i faced; the cause was there before we came. and ev'ry cause that ever i fought, i fought it full without regret or shame; but the dark does die, and the curtain is drawn and somebody's eyes must meet the dayn. and if i see the day, i'd only have to stay; so i bid farewell and in the night and be gone...

oh a false clock tries to tick out my time. to disgrace, distract, and bother me. and the dirt of gossip blows into my face, and the dust of rumors covers me. but if the arrow is straight, and the point is slick, it can pierce the dust no matter how thick. so i'll make my stand, and remain as i am and bid farewell, and not give a damn! "

....time to explore! spider nest along the coasts of florida.








...islamodara, florida in summer.

...fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars. in our fasting days of ramadan in florida, redo and i knew it was just the right way to go to the space. sky was not the limit. moon was up there.





...old friends, new friends, ied prayer. indiatlantic, florida.

...there, and back again? magical summer trip.

...a little touch of magic and childhood dream in orlando, florida.








...bazaar, bazaar! in search for a circus of heaven. orlando.

...for rent. not forever.

...coast to coast. the gate was golden in september.

...as if you didn't know it. it was always for travel's sake did i travel. came so far for friends.

...far above needle-like coconut trees in vanuatu. september.

...postcards from west across the ocean seas: and vanuatu. and overseas.

...heat in the street. on the way to "open air museum" of world war ii remains: pacific war. guadalcanal, solomon islands.







...going back. suva to nadi, fiji.

...mount vernon backyard. george washington. autumn and you.

...is there another earth, as green as any carpet, that dares to climb to mountainside, until it's touched by snow? no, it's all here. maryland in autumn.






...when the music is over, please turn off the light. at the carnadi's home studio in potomac, maryland in autumn.







...tilden upon tyne; tilden green. all that once green must now turn to yellow.







...tilden home.

...another call: return to the pacific oceans.

...and the blue birds fly. and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. and somewhere over the rainbow, november in honolulu.

...before i go. hear the train coming. see the neon lamp flashing. where do we go from here?

...a neighbourhood in new orleans. reminded me of cirebon, shrimp-town rock in java island.

...lake michigan at the horison of chicago.

...hello darkness my old friend, i've come to talk with you again. chicago in november wintry night. 'neath the halo of a street lamp...

"a man conceived a moment's answer to the dream..."