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! 

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.

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."

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.

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..."

for oii

God please give courage to her family in their loss.
a friend, remembered for her kindness, now left us.

we love you, oii.

"...your talent came flowing, through the stories they tell
and through the faces of those who loved you so well
your life gave them a treasure, a piece of themselves
something they carry, and still serves them well..."

(B. May)

turn in the corner

in these days i'm having a hoarse voice; and i long for a remedy.

but wow. how glad i was when i heard his voice again, and learned that he sounds happy when i called him.

now i know that there is a plan. or two plans, perhaps. one his; another His.

it's been more than a year since i arrived in that train station, visiting him in his small town of lemgo. we tried to be punctual back then; but failed to make it. being on-time was too much a luxury to afford, wasn't it? haa...

having a quality time with him, for small talk, play ps three, or just watch a good movie, is always fun. my best wishes to him, and that may he make a ladder and climb on its every rung to reach his brightest star.

mosquito

even boxes need a valentine, you said.
thus they hide from my sight,
to take time
just for themselves.

they go into hiding
inside those shelves where no light enters.
mosquitos do, though, quite unsurprisingly.

so i'll share my tales with them some other time.
when i too need a time just for myself,
like those boxes.

happy valentine!

starlight

news from darfour
and from kinshasa
arrived at my desk
almost simultaneously:

two torch bearers,
carrying the glow from the stars,
walk through the nights
courageously.

kids again

will is in town. and so is husin. my semi-cousins. how glad i did feel when the three of us spent the night together in front of wide television screen, building towers in that playstation game, laughing and teasing at each other just like when we were thirteen. throwing pillows, spilling water - cold water, and other non-essential things for the sake of kidding.

jihan

jihan really made my day.

i was standing in a line for quite a while,
queuing in a bank, expecting to get my turn
to change my cash to smaller notes,
so that i could distribute them
as a gift to my young relatives.

i noticed the person in front of me
wasn't able to change his money
because, as the teller said,
the stock of smaller notes was running out.
"please come back tomorrow," the cashier said.

nervously, while waiting to get there,
i asked jihan who nodded to my question.

in a closed envelope, she handed me my cash.
but it was through her helpful manner,
that she gave me the brightness of my day.

a sailor's monologue

take your time, youth, make no haste. the night's still young, and the waves can wait. the time will freeze, and the dawn will come late. dont you stand still, there by the gate, preparing yourself to fulfill that unknown mandate. hear your faithful 'me' begs you here, not to migrate.

but if must you soon leave, youth, then kindly say something. reveal your unspoken maps to the eyes of the world. where is that nameless shore you hid the oars of the boat?

use simple language, dont stay muted. one day you'll look back at this very age, and you'll be amused. stay here one more night, or if you cant, just one or two more hours. and let the story be heard. but if it is your call already to go away, oi, oi, oi,...

then please do take this blue lantern with you. it will gladen your heart in some way.

clouds

i am spellbound by the sunny spring, as if my soul yearns to be free like birds on the wing. there are so much perfect offerings that come to me from morning to evening. yet i must contend with saying no and no again, although deep within my curiousity remains tangling.

i must refuse, because this is but one of the few weeks in my life, when i measure things in terms of how many pages i typed and revised. not kilometers passed, not tunes of songs played, not movies or sports and games watched, not letters and calls received, not photographs of faces made, not sterlings euros or dollars earned. no, no, no.

ahead of me is the month of may. and a new set of weeks of trinity, the last lap towards the end of the race. with exams and deadlines await me at the gate. and then, may i return peacefully to where i came from after the dining tools are cleaned and shelved.

but until then, there is sill a month of may ahead. and one silent but memorable thing a taurean will annually celebrate.

collegium sanctae crucius oxoniae

when i try to think through about my laptop that doesn't work, i started to figure out that it is perhaps not entirely a bad thing that the graphic card is not functioning.

perhaps i need some rest from it, and it from me too.

like love, it sometimes needs holiday, doesn't it?

after a few days without a working laptop in my room, the rhythm of my life began to change. i feel it now, today. when i walked from my house to this place, a small loft in my college, saint cross, an attic library room with two racks of books and four computers to use. i go out of my room more often. and i meet people more here in this little space, although mostly it is nick a friend from germany, or nicola from korea.

there is no music in my room. no radio, no television. so it is more tranquil now. and i can distance myself from news and from the internet when it is not essential. i just use my room to rest and relax. i can see better of what i really need, what is necessary and what is supplementary. no work until midnight anymore because i use my time differently. only when i really want, i can come downstairs and use the piano in the college's saugman's common room. playing the same chords that i know by heart. or just improvise and pretend that i'm billy joel - when no one is watching, of course.

i also wonder how many extra hours that i have now just from doing something else than randomly clicking here and there. i make use more of my lunch box, because when i work here, i am far from my kitchen. so to safe time and some pounds, i cook more, vegetarian food - strangely, take some with me in the box, and make more coffee or tea and put it in my flusk, and read more here in silence, and all is happening, i think, after my laptop needs some rest.

and today i made phone calls to my friends. one is treated because of his illness, and one is going to get married soon. so happy to hear from them. only about ten minutes each, but it was such a different thing to hear their voices again. not only texts. well, this paraghaph, like the title of this posting, has nothing to do with my laptop story really - i just feel like writing it here...

now, back about my laptop, i really don't know whether or not i should replace or fix it soon.

hmm, above all of those things i mentioned, there is also one story that i can not forget. it was an experience from one of my bus trips in the continental europe two weeks ago. i sat next to this man, a student like me who lost his laptop, money, and all essential documents during his travel. and from his talk on the phone, explaining to his relatives of how difficult it was for him to loose everything important, i know i can not say that my situation here is the end of everything.

i still have my time, and a space to learn from the things i experience and those around me. i will try to think again when something undesireable happened, maybe there's somewhere that it wants to lead me to. so when things go bad, i should not immediately get worried. i will try to stay calm, and carry on.

circle

as i was trying to digest the diagrams and tables presented in my macroeconomic lesson, i couldn't help to wonder if only there's an equilibrium point in life - like in one of those curves - where ideas, faiths and meanings can be just weightless again. free from the pressure of the marketplace and economic gain, free from the burden of perpetual growth and inflationary chain, free from the value set by the exchange rate and interest margins.

i think the study is partly trying to tell us and convince us that 'the economy' is an extraordinarily big 'animal', and it is so big that it covers the entire world. and we have to feed it. and some feed it with bullets.

isis and iffley

if you walk under the rain, it is easy to think for a bowl of hot noodle soup. hmm…

last saturday i walked alongside the river isis, from the floyds row in south oxford, downstream to the village of iffley. with ben and rangga. three of my countrymen trying to defeat the cold shower of november rain. no one carried any umbrella.

on our left hand side, the river. rowers from different colleges were seen practicing hard to get prepared for the next month's championship. all wet. on our right hand side, meadows. cows, horses, swans and empty fields with occasional bushes. the horses are bigger than those you see around ganeca street of bandung city.

we walked to reach the site of a very old water mill of iffley. built in the 11^th century, survived for eight hundred years of grounding malt, barley, corn and other cereals, the mill was burnt down in 1908.

at the end of our trek, we arrived at a lock next to a small chapel where the mill used to be located. it’s called mill lane, close to the site of the 12^th century norman parish church st mary the virgin.

i know that not everybody loves rain. but among those who love it will understand how it feels to smell the crisp air. the sound of raindrops, the dark misty sky, the chilly air and the good companies… the place has just some resemblances to an empty street i used to visit in lembang of west java. some pine trees would make it looked more similar.

niki, you would love to be here.

isis is the origin of thames river. if you follow the stream, it will eventually take you down south, there where you can find london town...

subscription day

one by one, the essays are done. and one by one, the new ones will come. from the pages of international trade and finance - a subject which tries to convince you that capitalism will prevail; to international law with its never ending cases and chapters to memorize - believe me they want you to remember numbers of those years and articles when you can even hardly memorise your own mobile number; to the mountain high of politics where the ghosts of great philosophers reside and continue their debate; and finally to diplomatic practice classes where lessons from the able ambassadors unite.

it seems to take enourmous amount of hours for me to compose those sentences into a meaningful paragraph. let alone a page. but the lesson is perhaps there. like any labour that you are committed to do. if you stick to a labour long enough, it will eventually yield. even though long enough is probably way beyond any reasonable estimation of what long enough might be.