tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295783762024-03-07T13:28:01.161-08:00the-riddleit's just methe writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-4629968525299364662016-05-06T22:49:00.002-07:002016-05-06T23:59:49.897-07:00A holiday<a href="http://previews.123rf.com/images/kudryashka/kudryashka1203/kudryashka120300063/12840560-Summer-holidays-Happy-family-for-your-design-Stock-Vector-cartoon-family-people.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://previews.123rf.com/images/kudryashka/kudryashka1203/kudryashka120300063/12840560-Summer-holidays-Happy-family-for-your-design-Stock-Vector-cartoon-family-people.jpg" height="252" width="320" /></a>Today, is Saturday. My 6 years old son is playing with his friends in the living room, the rest of three of us: my 3 yo old daughter is enjoying you tube episodes, Lucy '"the drama queen" channel. My husband, as usual, glues in his mobile phone and watching, reading everything that is exposed in his fb timeline. Im trying to read a book, but i feel that i want to write.<br />
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It is a peaceful holiday where everyone can have their own happiness without necessary doing everything together. We might go to a mall at the afternoon, and let the children play.. and perhaps, me and my husband will have a cheap Ramen somewhere in the mall.<br />
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This is a holiday of a 40 years old mother, a worker, and once a while a businessman [but i rarely touch that role again in the last couple of months] . Actually, I prefer to see myself as writer.. but to see a lot of my writing project abandon because of my work life, and its really difficult to find a time just to read books and write... i feel doubt of my life preference, now. The creative world sometimes not really coherent with money or income..<br />
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I work as consultant in a UN institution, sounds cool, and it is cool. It gives me a new challenges, new understanding of work scheme [ i am paid daily here, and it depends to my WORKPLAN :), and not bad, but i might ask a little more for my daily payment] I meet new people.. but now im trying to back to gain the balance, and i want to see my self as a "writer" more..not a businessman, not a consultant. but i want to write more, because simply, it is the way i breathe.<br />
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And i probably will write more in English.. because this is the way for me to say "Hi" to the world, and i think the best way to start this, is just to start writing again. <br />
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<br />the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-21191835002046335172016-01-18T21:14:00.001-08:002016-05-06T22:56:38.938-07:00the "Love" Engine <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://coachingconnection.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/100purelove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://coachingconnection.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/100purelove.jpg" height="320" width="231" /></a></div>
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I often read in Sufi poems, that without Love, it is impossible to create the universe and the human kind. Love, they say, an important, essential, foundation for all creation. It is Love that makes any creation is possible and through Love God speaks in his Beauty to human. It is God's Love that we see in the thousand stars in the sky, in the depth of the sea, in any expertise and totality of humans in doing what they love, it is God's love in every noble act that we treasure. <br />
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Most of the time, we can not distinguish between love and lust. Lust relates with the physical needs, but love is not only lust. Lust can be an important part of love, but love is bigger and purposefully different with lust. As a subject, Love has its long term plan, for something big and pure. Lust, it sometimes goes randomly, whatever its all under God's plan and will.<br />
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Love is special, and it will take you to another journey. So, I will welcome you, Love, with all my heart, with its all pureness and patient. And I will ask God not to let lust cover His noble purposes putting an increased doses of love in my heart now. It's all for you God, for your Name and Eternity. <br />
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<br />the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-89849979772361588722015-03-13T03:45:00.003-07:002015-03-23T11:02:49.991-07:00Hati di atas sebuah piring <br />
Kulepaskan hatiku,<br />
kuletakkan pada sebuah piring kaca<br />
<br />
Apakah Engkau melihat bilur-bilur luka di sana?<br />
noda hitam di mana-mana ?<br />
Mohon usaplah dengan lembut tiap goresnya<br />
Teteskan air pengetahuanMu yang sejuk,<br />
Menghapus tiap keraknya<br />
<br />
dan ambilah hatiku dalam genggamanMu yang hangat<br />
Bawalah pergi, aku tak mau ia kembali..<br />
sampai rongga dadaku meruang bersama Samudra<br />
<br />the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-62307973338175039452014-10-17T20:05:00.000-07:002014-10-17T20:10:40.172-07:00True Love<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once, someone told me </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">true love is The Sun</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.suntan.com/images/content/facts/disp/sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.suntan.com/images/content/facts/disp/sun.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Burn itself to lit the dark </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Give you a way of clarity </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">of yourself and things around you </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And I said, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">now,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">True love is brevity </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to take steps of silence </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to know your hidden beast inside </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and find the light, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">yes, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the light inside you that will ignite </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">you to shine </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">once true love is in your hand</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">it will not go away</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">it will lead you to the journey within</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to find the True Love</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">that it is Your Self</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">[ a note about Love, on Sunday]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-56062430015136839512013-02-14T11:04:00.001-08:002013-02-14T11:14:08.319-08:00Dream<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I stumbled in a friend status on ... well u can mention anything in this social media era, FB, Twitter.. he said, "living the dream" hum...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">it made me thinking over my life. everything good happening to me is happened just as that. Or everything happened to me, far different than my dream, or something that i never dream off. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">First, I never dream worked in a foreign media, and I did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(my dream was working in Tempo magz, but I failed in Psi-Test, :). and I hate that. I hate Psi-Test. I think its unfair and.. blalalalal , ogh.. see? i still wanting working in the magz.. ha ha.. after more than 10 years,God.. )</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">the first reason why i applied to the job, because a good friend handed me the advertisement she got from a newspaper, and said: "Its good for you!" , well, i thought why not? at that time i worked in so called a night news paper, a day dreaming concept that ppl need something to read before they sleep, so we published news paper released at 8 pm, ha ha!. why i worked in such uncovincing institution? i just need a job, any job.. anyway, i worked there, and i keep laughing inside. They pour money for something for me, ridicoulous. The editorial chief, a nice guy, keep convincing me its a good idea. He knew, though, that i didnt buy it. But, they agree to pay me monthly and i need monye, so well i have no problem, even if they wanted to publish the news paper at midnight. he he he..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Then, there, the vacancy, a japanese news agency. I didnt expect much, though. I sent two pages of my CV through fax at 1 am. then I receive a call, for interview, then a writing test, then an interview again. .. then, from more than 300 applicants, they chose one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Working there, created experiences that i never been expected. travel and travel and travel. I know meaning of pasport, visa, immigration, jet-lag, something beyond my comprehension. I enjoyed that, I enjoyed the traveling. I crossed different land, ppl, and cultures. The work, well its a journalist work, what to expect? nothing new, expect off course the pressure. heaviest pressure in work i ever feel. But, it made me learn something, japanese is good as friend, but if you can, avoid to work with them, ha hahaa. I learn a lot off course. I love Japan and its ppl, it just part of me, it wont be riped off. But, Im beginning to suspect myself, if i have chanced to visit Europe, as often as i visited Japan, I might think that Europe is part of me too..</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Second, I never dream to have a business. and I do, now. (plus working as an editor, which is, a bit tiring)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I always thought myself a bohemian writer. I dont do business. I never think about money or future. i dont save money, I pour money in books, books, travel, and good food.. ( this behaviour change, soon, when my boy start to enter his playgroup, and i realize the education fee is crazy here, and its the opposite with the qualty. deep in my heart i imagined , ssst, its secret, to move to Finland, or any other countries that give free education and deliver world best quality teaching. ..)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">So, i why again become a businessman? i didnt plan that either.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">In a very delicate situation, ( I worked in very difficult situation, every morning, I pray to God, please God give me new job) I applied to many companies no answer. until at that day, my birthday, i prayed in fresh, and serene morning, i said: "God, anyone who call me today (for work) it is my way, " .. Hm.. then out of the blue, and old friend call me. He is husband of one of my best friend. asking me to join him in a writing project. and not only that, later in our meeting, he offered me to join his company, as a partner. Then I resigned. I gave up my salary, which considering not bad. Join my friend in a writing project, then to feed the company we must looking for projects, and projects, and now, we have 8 ppl working with us.. My salary now, is not bad either, and i have the divident to, as i have almost 50% share (49,5) .. and i dont have to go to the office everyday, i can work form home. I can see my kids grows. What can be better than that?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> the best thing is, we can give to our staffs insurance, and pension schme.. Allhamdulilah, i see the bright future. Insya Allah.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Third, I never dream to be a Mother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Now, i am a mother of two. actualy in 2006, or 7 i have a dream to see a boy smile at me in a sunny day, in a beach. and when my boy smile at me (now, he's 3 yr old) i know by heart, its a smile i knew 6 years before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">so do i living my dream?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">no. I live beyond my dream.. Allhamdulilah..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Oh today, its February 14, ah its already 15 now,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">so, i passed valentine day, was it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">humm still its not late,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">i must pondering Love, now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">so, its a thursday night ups, not its earlyyy Friday morning</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">. Time to ponder about Love, this, alone, with Him, who know me well.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">salaam</span><br />
<br />the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-51267234842145520012013-02-06T20:08:00.001-08:002013-02-06T22:34:30.605-08:00Life and Love<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">It is a little bit strange start to write again in an abandoned blog. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">its like entering a home, clean up the mess, enjoy the sphere, look at the old paintings, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">touch the wall, the knits in your living room, open the dusty books in the shelf..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">and you enter the kitchen, looking for the tea that always calming you.. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">boiling it.. and while you wait the tea boils, you sit slowly in the corner, and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">begin to write.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">almost 4 years passed since i post the last writing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">My life has changed a lot. Some are still. But many has changed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">i am now a mother of two, a boy and a girl..off course it changed my perspective </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">about how a child is in front of their parent or mother (in my case), you can read my old perspective </span><a href="http://www.the-riddle.blogspot.com/2006/12/love-our-child-love-ego.html">here</a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">. </span>But, something not change, i still have faith that it is a crime to put a child into your shoes, my shoes, i wrote <a href="http://www.the-riddle.blogspot.com/2008/05/ode-to-my-child.html">that</a> in 2008, and i still believe that, now. Hopefully, it will be forever. </span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> i am no longer a desperate worker he he.. i run a business now, with my friend. Still and may it always be relate to writing, translating, editing.. i learn a lot. i like to listen to a story, and the art to re-telling the story.. or interpreting words, anyway, i love this job.. Allhamdulilah. However, still i have angst. running the business means that i hve rare opportunity to write my column.. hopefully with a bright start this year... (we are finalizing several drafts of business agreement with hype companies), we can hire more ppl and i can have my own writing space.. aamiin.. but, i know now, the complication to choose: do you want to live in comfort while you business only have snail space or do you want your business to grow fast and giving in your comfortness for a while, let say 3- 4 years? Hm .. hm... And i beginning to see the possibility to write fiction. I know its hard for me to step into the fictional words (in the oppossite, i am a vivid readers of novels) but i sense, it would be interesting adventure: writing fiction. </span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> I am a social media activist. He he.. i find myself, happy to share picture of my kids, my writing, my temporary monkey mind, in my facebook wall. But, I know its not healthy. I hate myself becoming part of the hysteria. it is not me. Then, I decide to write again in my blog.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">So, life is becoming very interesting, mates. I enjoy the episodes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I also experienced things that may not be understood by some of you, even me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">But, like a crystal put in your hand, i know and feel it real and the light touch my heart. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">*what?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">hmmm.. let's say im beginning to understand.. how this "soul" business works...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">well.. im not the expert, but let say, beginning to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">anyway, i love you, readers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">keep reading my blog, ;) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">salaam</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span>the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-16911637436656573092009-12-17T09:36:00.000-08:002011-08-04T14:38:23.631-07:00happiness is to die (before death)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mt-_OybYmVR6uTFk5awx4uxpiJRYhWKEZ4p7OSlmOez15YEGreDJyR6HMBDsGLEVlxcXJ3UbqJJGHDSWAmUthEo1DOL_1orBSQytEYGv4d8LPL78kAp6fiTZzlHc_yefSfPL/s1600-h/smiley.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a><br />I dropped by to site of a famous author tonight.<br /><br />In one of his post, he questioned about meaning of happiness. Its a cliche question, I thought. This question might appear if one feel empty about whats going on around him. I sometimes question my life in the same, philosophical tone.<br /><br />I was reading hundred of answers from the reader fans, when i realized, its hard to me to find my own definition. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">dont</span> feel that any of this words represent what I feel about happiness, or I experienced about happiness, or whether my happiness, is the real happiness, what is the real happiness, anyway? what is happiness?<br /><br />finally, i stuck to the famous author question: what is happiness, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">siska</span>? now, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">im</span> questioning myself. its not cliche after all.<br /><br />I feel happy if I understand, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">thats</span> first.<br />And what my understanding about this worldly life?<br />its nothing. Why its nothing? because it is.<br />Your carrier, Your house, People you love, even you is nothing.<br />Its aging. Its decaying. Its fragile.<br />All is and will become nothing.<br />humans, their proud building, creations, movies, poets,<br />islands, sea, sky, galaxy, all is dust.<br />Its hardly deniable fact.<br /><br />I feel happy if I share, that's second.<br />In the opposite, this nothingness of this worldly life, offers you a meaning<br />if you share your likeness, your things, your love, your understanding, to others.<br />you feel that there is a meaning of your existence.<br /><br />So life is something, and real. Because it brings you many experiences to learn. This reality brings you means. Despite, we the material things in life nothingness existence, life is something.<br /><br />Hum? human, and life... and what is lacking of this picture?<br /><br />off course, the Creator.<br />He who creates humans, ant, bacteria, stars, planet, galaxy, who whispers you ideas, source of creativity that we witness in this universe. Source of beauty, Source of unreachable understanding, of everything that we can not think of, but we know is there. Source of energy. Source of us, and everything around us. The opposite of nothingness, He is everything. He makes the scenario, He <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">engineers</span> the interaction of things. The source of perfection.<br /><br />SO, the only way to be happy is, to understand the nothingness, share something in this reality, following the scenario of the Creator. out of the nothingness, and join with the Creator's plan...<br /><br />But the ultimate question are: what to share? How can we know the creator plan? How can we know the Creator?<br /><br />i think, first, to know, and to really find out, to be constantly in the state, to be in the know, that we are nothing.. like in the state of death.<br /><br />to die? yes, unfortunately, or fortunately.. to die while we life. to die before death.<br />how about that?<br /><br />(to be continued)<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ps</span>: to die before death, </span>title of a book contained <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Bawa</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Muhaiyadden</span> teaching, i once, read.the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-26364630715010451052009-10-28T23:11:00.000-07:002009-10-29T02:12:49.286-07:00to the pondBring me close<br />to the pond of wisdom<br />to the content heart<br />and tranquil soul<br /><br />open this eyes<br />show me things that lost from sight<br />covered by dust of mind, sins and desire<br /><br />You,<br />Source of Light<br />Cleanse me with knowledge that no one knew<br />keys to open secret gate of my heart<br />to find what You want of me<br />my sacred vow<br /><br />bring me close<br />to the pond of wisdom<br />that You ownedthe writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-89898330206273958142009-10-25T10:04:00.000-07:002009-10-25T10:39:50.716-07:00how to see the world without perspectivemy favorite question when i was a journalist .. was.." what is your perspective about.." i often intrigued to explore, one's view, their personal reference, on a subject, represented in a frame called "perspective".<br /><br />The word "perspective" is sophisticated enough to make source impressed, and think that i was not ordinary journalist.. This word, "perspective" brings me to become friend withseveral names that you often read in newspaper, made me looks, somehow, smart. <br /><br />The problem was, and this is secret, ... when they answered my question, and explained their "perspective" i was dragged into unknown territory. Most of them put theories in their answer. You can imagine, how can I understand diplomat excitingly explained the iraqi war with well... theories, or seismologist explained the earthquake with scientific words.. and they didnt know, that they were facing the dumbest journalist in the world..<br /><br />My way to survive, was, showing a vacant expression, asking some logic that i couldnt reach (LOGIC not meaning of words, because it wasting time, and showing the "dark side" of me) and wrote in capital alphabet in my notebook words that i can't understand. In the office, Google settled my problem.<br /><br />Well it was 7 months ago.<br /><br />Seeing my rather comical experience from far away, i realize when i asked someone about their perspective, their answer was not their own perspective but other person perspective by quoting theories, or wise words from some wise man. One said: nothing new under the sun..<br />but i think total submission to one's theory showing your inability to portray world with your own eyes.<br /><br />the first step to release yourself from such, unoriginal attitude, is release yourself from theories. Think outside the box. radically, there is no perspective about anything. let your eyes wide open then try to say things as it is, to see things as it is.<br /><br />I know, its rather impossible. It's like challenges wheel of civilization (he he i can't belive i wrote "wheel of civilization" made me look smart, huh? ) . but who knows, what you will find. You create your own words, understanding, definition, and theories. Off course it will be influenced by how many books you read, music you listen to, but anyway, there is no" your perspective, as long as you quote theories.<br /><br />eve maybe there is no perspective about anything, first.<br />Only you and fact in front of you. and you start digging.<br /> somehow, i think, God like this better.the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-58282815246520965362009-08-24T11:32:00.000-07:002009-08-24T11:47:44.171-07:00full moonhow to tell the full moon, that,<br /> you are in love with her light?<br /><br />: it is not hers<br />it is the Sun,<br />always the Sun.the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-79230555607826302152009-06-17T08:10:00.000-07:002009-06-21T18:55:27.788-07:00teachingLife teaches us to stay light like the air<br />Even when lightning tear off our sky<br />or thunder storms our silent bay<br />we are still nothing, nay<br />we are still nothing<br />and why bother to overly react?<br /><br />life teaches us to be strong like the old tree<br />stay still, unshaken<br />she lets the children climb up her branch<br />dont mind if its cracked<br />she has given the best for each time she grows<br />no matter when she cut off<br />or die in time<br />she'll be ready<br /><br />Life teaches us to be honest like children laugh<br />free, open, unaffraid..<br />their clarity inviting the light<br />made the children so curiously happy<br />even in the dark<br /><br />Life teaches us to be down to earth...<br />like..<br />the earth<br />to spread out<br />and accept<br />try to be fertile<br />and safe<br /><br />a sanctuary for the plants, for the people<br />for the ships, and animals<br />for the kinds, for the culprit<br /><br />Life teaches us to seek who we are<br />since we are living in a beauty of rhyme<br />since we are involving in unexpected game<br />since we are challenged in unknown territories<br />who we are,<br />what is life,<br />why we are here?<br /><br />Life teaches us to learn and find the answerthe writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-90189537996121648892009-04-13T12:43:00.000-07:002009-04-13T12:44:12.832-07:00silentWhat can I tell of the silent?<br />Its just there with me in a stream of strange notes<br />It shows you how to see inside of things, than outside<br />To look closer in everything and create distance in the same time<br /><br />Live is poignant misery if we see from one side<br />I’ve traveled around the world only to see<br />people like to argue than to find harmony<br />A one side,<br />Winning, competition, fame, gold, and glory..<br />But nothing offers me this strange notes I’ve found<br />Here in my place, now.<br /><br />What can I tell of the silent?<br />When everything, past and recent, moving slowly<br />With no sound<br />Showing nothing than my beast<br />O! illusion, the illusion of me,<br /><br />Let the silent shatter all<br />Teach me its nature,<br />to move unsound<br />But making stream notes,<br />and show me things.the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-91269416900878134112009-03-05T16:15:00.000-08:002009-03-25T09:37:40.618-07:00Sudirman's Sun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyfzsWhuS8VgoBD8wNGqToOUVHoBwc6-Bpmofq8A7EMdQZzIi6XkzIFsqdMRQzPVjdoX7KxMyVr3LOgz6IJ4yJXgBlPmKNpW-ftZtXwNuxAiSdbujrnp2t9tEggqvwMhv6V_B2/s1600-h/quit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 77px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyfzsWhuS8VgoBD8wNGqToOUVHoBwc6-Bpmofq8A7EMdQZzIi6XkzIFsqdMRQzPVjdoX7KxMyVr3LOgz6IJ4yJXgBlPmKNpW-ftZtXwNuxAiSdbujrnp2t9tEggqvwMhv6V_B2/s320/quit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309886015840655634" border="0" /></a><br />Sudirman is name of the road that i've been working in a foreign company, for more than 7 years.. or 8 years.. anyway, quite a long time.. Working in foreign company creates such a comfort zone that some people dream of. Good payment and easy, easy, easy job.<br /><br />Easy because what they need mostly is your local knowledge, local wisdom, and solution. Thats why they hired you as "local staff". No matter how good you are, in front of them you just a "local staff". An indigenous that they hire to make them understand the native land.<br /><br />Good thing working with foreigner was you were challenged with completely different culture and mindset, standard, ( interesting to learn.. but after several years, you feel exhausted because it always you who have to made adjustment, simply because its them who write number in your salary slip)<br /><br />And it would be harder if you work with a nation who used to be isolated for thousand years, before accepting foreigners in their land. Tendency of closed mindset is obvious. You see them as a puppet in a string (works controls them) and if you smart enough you can be the puppeteer. However, a lonesome puppeteer, knowing that they see you as their reflection.<br /><br />Several months ago, with all syndrome of fatigue and feel of under utilized and a good agreement on pension compensation (he he, thats' important, guys), I decided to quit.<br /><br />Reason? well, anything.. took a master degree, resting..<br /><br />The decision is so relieving, more than i realize, and i got pregnant.. a month after. Wow. and it seems a successful one.. (hopefully.. please God).. Now, im entering the last month working here.<br /><br />Well, im gonna miss this office a litlle bit. Especially, financial assuredness every month. But, one must make decision, take a step ahead (maybe not comforting for a while)... and im sure, a great adventure, happier life and bright future waiting ahead. Like morning sun I very much enjoy this morning in Sudirman.<br /><br />Allhamdulilah.the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-70426743361723490082008-11-27T02:13:00.000-08:002008-11-27T05:22:12.896-08:00conqueror of the oceanThis morning, i read in a book poetical quotes of Cheng Ho,<br />placed at the temple at the mouth of the Min River on the Fujian coat, China.<br />It said:<br /><br />“We have traversed more than 100,000 li<br />of immense water spaces,<br />have beheld in the ocean huge waves<br />like mountains rising sky-high.<br /><br />We have set eyes on barbarian regions far away,<br />hidden in a blue transparency of light vapours,<br />while our sails, loftily unfurled like clouds,<br /><br />Day and night continues their course,<br />rapid like that of a star, <br />traversing those savage waves,"<br /><br />I feel that, each of us are sailing our own ship everyday, in the ocean of life.<br />We have beheld in the "ocean huge waves, like mountains rising sky high" , and we continue to sail, no matter what,<br />hope, our ship continue to cleave trough the ocean, "rapid like that of a star,"<br /><br />I wish all of us have all the spirit, courage, wisdom, we need..<br />to conquer the ocean<br />and together reach island of eternity<br />the land for the brave..<br /><br />aamiin<br /><br />ps: for my brave Comerades. salute. teach me how to sail.the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-75929424881974818042008-11-24T20:03:00.000-08:002008-11-24T20:13:49.608-08:00Today Is No Sunday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67IcljN285ckvQJLCStL2b_db9vfXPXEHtSwRm9llsI-76IgwoeQb8Y543GJ8tSUanSWbTW2r_yRGfHGRMTqoTsNwxU-51y_Xw2NgmsLmCCsWFkit8e_0GMvQEEFGzMn_RT5R/s1600-h/bookshelf.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 83px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67IcljN285ckvQJLCStL2b_db9vfXPXEHtSwRm9llsI-76IgwoeQb8Y543GJ8tSUanSWbTW2r_yRGfHGRMTqoTsNwxU-51y_Xw2NgmsLmCCsWFkit8e_0GMvQEEFGzMn_RT5R/s320/bookshelf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272443002557548834" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">music by white shoes and couples company</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">song and lyrics:Aprillia Aprasari</span><br /><br /><br /><br />Its rainy season and the grey clouds<br />complete the theme<br />the rusty fence, the noisy thunder<br />creepy storm and the falling trees<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzr-C8nrrt_-8Cbj-ZNlBaSTCUFT51AJcE8tam8L7oktcReE5N5TPRMpPq3954np71OH3Z_rayvdupzIy8k95R1-BIkULnayMrcDMpfV7Pofk0K-YUOb8fl2N4JQ6vJpPf2XSx/s1600-h/coffee.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 87px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzr-C8nrrt_-8Cbj-ZNlBaSTCUFT51AJcE8tam8L7oktcReE5N5TPRMpPq3954np71OH3Z_rayvdupzIy8k95R1-BIkULnayMrcDMpfV7Pofk0K-YUOb8fl2N4JQ6vJpPf2XSx/s320/coffee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272443112189385858" border="0" /></a><br />Television, tea and coffee<br />all the books are getting dusty<br /><br />If there is a way i will catch up for you<br />visit the spring<br /><br />Where the ices are melting<br />and the new plants are growing<br />flower is blooming<br />and lovers are kissingthe writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-36199913393905929342008-11-24T18:56:00.001-08:002008-11-24T19:04:01.608-08:00life choice affair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5PpukFcPShNEhykM_JciIN3hyphenhyphenXGu6VxIh02vV8JLqdh1yoePEVWK19AKfFoLx1z_XezeJrjZvwXIkOBP6PgrTNw1C8NnBbYOmHnDXpN07hNDqlaZL-eg7Z3eoDw2fDhT0smce/s1600-h/dylan+thomas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 83px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5PpukFcPShNEhykM_JciIN3hyphenhyphenXGu6VxIh02vV8JLqdh1yoePEVWK19AKfFoLx1z_XezeJrjZvwXIkOBP6PgrTNw1C8NnBbYOmHnDXpN07hNDqlaZL-eg7Z3eoDw2fDhT0smce/s320/dylan+thomas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272425108088120194" border="0" /></a><br />In an interview, Dylan Thomas said poetry is statement made on the way to the grave. These words cut my heart in pieces.<br /><br />Thomas definition of poetry explains things like: anything that is too beautiful, so beautiful, makes you cry?<br /><br />What is the right word for this? melancholy? right. melancholy.<br /><br />Melancholy is always in tune with introvert, something closed and hidden. Its just painful and full with desperation.<br /><br />Meanwhile, in another interview, John Lennon said: usually something real, is simple, and<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSy2Qs_zMPuyOFeXWvd_VM8Zb7Rp-BdEER5AGcV7uStEbKbswp_iVtHFEqruHTcWC4k6aEkTAsx52qnJQmV_rwOv2lFBSeQWzImRoiJJxC8ygy35s5egRurFh8p9mVglVJLVy/s1600-h/joh+lennon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSy2Qs_zMPuyOFeXWvd_VM8Zb7Rp-BdEER5AGcV7uStEbKbswp_iVtHFEqruHTcWC4k6aEkTAsx52qnJQmV_rwOv2lFBSeQWzImRoiJJxC8ygy35s5egRurFh8p9mVglVJLVy/s320/joh+lennon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272425447016397986" border="0" /></a> everything that is simple, is true.<br /><br />I think there is always two perspectives in life that we can choose: Thomas or Lennon perspective.<br /><br />What will you choose, dwelling in desperation, endless pain or unrevealed passion like Thomas or break the mundane life in such honest, rock and roll tune, like Lennon?<br /><br />Anything, it always depend on each of us, how to see life.<br />I choose anything that makes my soul free.<br /><br />well.. maybe.. a taste of John Lennon simplicity make things better.<br />A little bit. :))the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-17950876085380339442008-11-24T18:54:00.000-08:002008-11-24T19:09:01.782-08:00megatruh<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXi3fFDCKwykFH09CEbXX1YAfLLEzTbsriC-qXGFycfitPLI3vplULUjKaB7H4Vlg8cI2jd8qXHJVjYK4FYeLYPBwnw1sdysT8snuBr9BSX3lMPXonYKDIf7XaFVQpCx9x_NK/s1600-h/soul.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 105px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXi3fFDCKwykFH09CEbXX1YAfLLEzTbsriC-qXGFycfitPLI3vplULUjKaB7H4Vlg8cI2jd8qXHJVjYK4FYeLYPBwnw1sdysT8snuBr9BSX3lMPXonYKDIf7XaFVQpCx9x_NK/s320/soul.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272426841761980226" border="0" /></a><br /><div class="note_content clearfix"> <div>(kutipan satu sampai tiga)<br /><br />Hawya pegat ngudiya ronging budyayu, Margane suka basuki,<br />Dimen luwar kang kinayun, Kalis ing panggawe sisip,Ingkang taberi prihatos.<br /><br />Ulatna kang nganti bisane kepangguh, Galedehan kang sayekti,<br />Talitinen awya kleru, Larasen sajroning ati, Tumanggap dimen tumanggon.<br /><br />Pamanggone aneng pangesthi rahayu, Angayomi ing tyas wening,<br />Eninging ati kang suwung, Nanging sejatining isi, Isine cipta sayektos.<br /><br />(Serat Sabdojati, Ranggawarsita)<br /><br />artinya:<br /><br />megatruh (memutus ruh)<br /><br />Janganlah berhenti, selalu berusaha berbuat kebajikan, agar mendapat kegembiraan, keselamatan serta tercapai segala cita-cita, terhindar dari perbuatan yang bukan-bukan, caranya haruslah gemar prihatin.<br /><br />Dalam hidup keprihatinan ini pandanglah dengan seksama segala sesuatu sebagaimana adanya. Telitilah jangan sampai salah, endapkan didalam hati, agar mampu menangkap dan menempatkan.<br /><br />Cara menempatkannya adalah dengan menyelaraskan dengan keindahan, melindungi di dalam kejernihan hati. Kejernihan hati yang kosong, namun sebenarnya berisi.<br />Isinya adalah cipta yang sejati.<br /><br />diambil dari website:<br /><a href="http://ahmadsamantho.wordpress.com/2008/07/29/sarah-serat-sabdo-jati-ronggo-warsito/" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://ahmadsamantho.wordp</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>ress.com/2008/07/29/sarah-</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span><span>serat-sabdo-jati-ronggo-wa</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>rsito/</a> </div></div>the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-67039742005845545632008-11-24T18:51:00.001-08:002008-11-24T19:09:53.893-08:00the third eye<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUThdpC5fORfChkGJNyTuiDjCucofqHrSNJBwXeRorarNX16PE4sWIN-fJWRWGkZ2JiHgcIMSBjwrm6cZRSG-FcU1b9wwojv4P7kQvh1bESvwu1SwEvqXW0NbK804G27G-Vgmz/s1600-h/third+eye.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 98px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUThdpC5fORfChkGJNyTuiDjCucofqHrSNJBwXeRorarNX16PE4sWIN-fJWRWGkZ2JiHgcIMSBjwrm6cZRSG-FcU1b9wwojv4P7kQvh1bESvwu1SwEvqXW0NbK804G27G-Vgmz/s320/third+eye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272422358619565554" border="0" /></a><br />concept of third eye, its known in the west and east. Means the eye of wisdom.<br /><br />I remember dialog in a movie, where an Indian girl asked by American-guy, why she needs to put the red spot between her eyebrows, and she said "Its the third eye, we need that. Sometimes, these two eyes not enough for us,"<br /><br />In Hinduism and Buddhism, the third eye is a symbol of enlightenment. In the Indian tradition, it is referred to the the eye of knowledge, which is the seat of the "teacher inside". The "teacher inside" in one of Islamic sufism teaching, known as, Ruhul Quds, or "Holly spirit " that every human born with. "Light upon the light" as it mentioned in the Qur'an surrah An-nur: 35.<br /><br />For me, having the third eye, does not mean you can see the future, or see beyond physical realities. Some people might be given talent or gift to have that. But, having the third eye, means that you can deliver wisdom, or at least you try to deliver wisdom, to face reality of mundane.<br /><br />In western science, the third eye, is common known in the neuro-psychology, as spot in the brain, called the pineal gland. A senior psychologist I know, said the the neoro-psycho scientist suspects the pineal gland as "the bridge" between soul and human body. Active pineal gland found in the brain of indigo child. Some Scentist in the west call pineal gland as the third eye.<br /><br />Soul, a completely different entity from human physical bodies who can understand things beyond reality, and deliver the wisdom. Soul an eternal variable in us, human. The delicate one inside us who is longing for the truth. The substance. Entity who connects human with the Beyond. God.<br /><br />In my understanding, and knowing of my limit as ordinary human, without extra abilities to see beyond realities or future, having the third eye, is the ability to transcend from routine live and problems, sees all from high above, and finding the substance in each reality, deliver the wisdom and act accordingly.<br /><br />The ability to transcend famous in Sufism method as "to die". it means "to die" from everything that forming us now such as job, friends, family, books, music, etc. for me, "To die" does not mean we leave everything behind, or drawing the lines, but 'to die" means to detach all the things that- we think- is us. To die from classifications. to die from ownership. to die from definition. to die from the self.<br /><br />To die of every "my" we know :))..<br />My job, My family, My parents, My computer, My handphone, My Car..<br />everything that we think, define us.<br /><br />Its a way o f thinking "out of the box", boxes, literally.<br />Out from the job box, family box, friends box, conflict with boss in the office box.<br />Out, out, out from those reality that we know temporary. and not real.<br />to let the soul transcends and looking back to see everything in distance,<br />find the substances, with the eye of wisdom.<br /><br />The third eye.<br /><br />May God continue to show us the way.the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-53674600169762986752008-11-20T22:26:00.000-08:002008-11-20T23:20:23.615-08:00summer dance<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWZCP_JZvNHeS30XTn5vJJCJIpc5DyWogWgxL1FUl9_qIGtIYvV5oRFjqCPJuxPiyCeCOoBg1lp1uxi_NR6__Hu_egQ8bD05hI0DPcNPUT4yIE2TRIzdJYDIgPXc7IPB_IECx/s1600-h/fish.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 111px; height: 111px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWZCP_JZvNHeS30XTn5vJJCJIpc5DyWogWgxL1FUl9_qIGtIYvV5oRFjqCPJuxPiyCeCOoBg1lp1uxi_NR6__Hu_egQ8bD05hI0DPcNPUT4yIE2TRIzdJYDIgPXc7IPB_IECx/s320/fish.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271007157252298466" border="0" /></a>I wait you in the rainbow<br />let alone the jealous sky<br />thousand stars are wailing<br />shoving clouds<br />taming the wind<br /><br /><br />Lets play<br />down to sea,<br />dive to the bottom of the ocean<br /><br />fly into the air,<br />touch the butterfly wings<br />hop to the trees<br />pick the mocking bird nest<br /><br />Oh,<br />this beauty,<br />let it be no words<br />let it be nothing<br />but us<br /><br />ps: thanks kikujiro, you make me write again !...the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-56541662757083455792008-11-05T21:57:00.000-08:002008-11-06T22:23:24.617-08:00Tombo Atihttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wX66z76GDVM<blockquote></blockquote>by: opick<br /><br />Tombo ati iku limo perkorone<br />Kaping pisan moco Qur’an lan maknane<br />Kaping pindo sholat wengi lakonono<br />Kaping telu wong kang sholeh kumpulono<br />Kaping papat kudu weteng ingkang luwe<br />Kaping limo dzikir wengi ingkang suwe<br /><br />Salah sawijine sopo iso ngelakoni<br />Mugi-mugi Gusti Allah nyembadani<br /><br />Obat Hati ada lima perkaranya<br />Yang pertama baca Qur’an dan maknanya<br />Yang kedua sholat malam dirikanlah<br />Yang ketiga berkumpullah dengan orang sholeh<br />Yang keempat perbanyaklah berpuasa<br />Yang kelima dzikir malam perbanyaklah<br /><br />Salah satunya siapa bisa menjalani<br />Moga-moga Gusti Allah mencukupithe writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-60356824495453705822008-11-04T03:45:00.000-08:002008-11-04T04:41:19.132-08:00Jealousy, what is that actually?A site tells jealousy typically refers to the negative or angry <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thought" title="Thought">thoughts</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feeling" title="Feeling">feelings</a>, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Behavior" title="Behavior">behaviors</a> of insecurity, fear, and anxiety that occur when a person believes a valued relationship is being threatened by a rival, or when another person is perceived to have some type of advantage.<br /><br />Jealousy often contains a mixture of emotions such as anger, sadness, disgust, which are focused by passion or anger. Parrott makes use of the cause of jealousy to define it: “jealousy is an emotion experienced when a person is threatened by the loss of an important relation with another person”<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>So basically, jealousy <span style="font-weight: bold;">concerns something one has and is afraid of losing.<br />Jealousy is Fear.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Ok, then the question is, is there something that we really have?<br /> we really own?<span style="font-weight: bold;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span>we dont even have our life<br />we dont even have our breath..<br /><br />We are nothing, and have nothing.<br />and, so joker said: why we are so serious? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span>and I wrote a letter to a friend today, saying that, besides those ideals, we are pathetically just a modern, post modern human. We are what we read, we are the music that we listen too, we just a code of history <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>...<br /></span><br />and we will leave everything, the form of -me-, soon. <br />the beautiful -me-,<br />the grand house of -me-,<br />proud children of -me-,<br />lover of -me-, <br />soon, soon...<br /><br />And what we will bring when we meet God,<br />when our heart only full with flame of jealousy? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>Dont let the flame burn garden of your heart<br />blurry your wisdom,<br />barring your vision,<br />and destroy your soul.<br /><br />Salaam :))<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-19055803218977283712008-11-02T06:48:00.000-08:002008-11-02T06:51:50.223-08:00Great monologue<meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cuser%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Comic Sans MS"; panose-1:3 15 7 2 3 3 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:script; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} pre {margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >O Me! O life !
<br />of the questions of these recurring;<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" ><span style="">
<br /> </span><i>Answer</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >
<br />That you are here—that life exists, and identity;<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></pre><pre><span style=";font-family:";" >That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.<o:p></o:p></span></pre> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >-</span> Walt Whitman</p> the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-28816733693927923852008-10-28T07:27:00.000-07:002008-10-28T07:29:58.807-07:00a love poetI love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.<br />I love you straightforwardly without complexities abide.<br />I love you because I know no other way than this.<br />So close that your hand, on my chest, is my hand.<br />So close, that when you close your eyes, I fall asleep.<br /><br />*Walt Whitman*the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-69295743646250295542008-10-11T07:59:00.000-07:002008-10-11T08:31:12.293-07:00Gitanjali<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2C8qTLXQ1NVanT9hasswU84-WpTGf44Gc9dJSw8KcI8prKnoLCG0Q5uQCpdJR5jwmmfcXIeBg6dzAU8iqlhYVVDIGFuIWCDvEMTlQl2xV8-v7VrBKPpQbHinCwOAVHIAOF8Aq/s1600-h/flowers.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255918847750231346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2C8qTLXQ1NVanT9hasswU84-WpTGf44Gc9dJSw8KcI8prKnoLCG0Q5uQCpdJR5jwmmfcXIeBg6dzAU8iqlhYVVDIGFuIWCDvEMTlQl2xV8-v7VrBKPpQbHinCwOAVHIAOF8Aq/s320/flowers.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> <div><div><div><div><div><em>Beautiful quotes from Gitanjali, written by Rabindrannath Tagore: </em></div><div></div> <br /><div>I THOUGHT that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of my power, that the path before me was closed, that provisions were exhausted and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity. But I find that thy will knows no end in me. And when old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.<br /></div><br /><div>ON the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances. They build their houses with sand and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.<br /></div><br /><div>They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl fishers dive for pearls, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKFdRUx2hS3z1nHkOH-79tBN_5H84B4_MM0odffNTdeXnDGW5Zbc0mugBxVridYQPcrr0j_y4o6ebM3-rT7nFXbDlwuPJsuQ7trTVSIgeYuhGw9Z_9aO9hEbzlDS6MGOm3yLqj/s1600-h/sea+shell.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255915362482015858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKFdRUx2hS3z1nHkOH-79tBN_5H84B4_MM0odffNTdeXnDGW5Zbc0mugBxVridYQPcrr0j_y4o6ebM3-rT7nFXbDlwuPJsuQ7trTVSIgeYuhGw9Z_9aO9hEbzlDS6MGOm3yLqj/s320/sea+shell.jpg" border="0" /></a>merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets. The sea surges up with laughter and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with children and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.<br /></div><br /><div>In the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships get wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children .<br /></div><br /><div>THE sleep that flits on baby's eyes does anybody know from where it comes? Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling where, in the fairy village among shadows of the forest dimly lit with glowworms, there hang two timid buds of enchantment. From there it comes to kiss baby's eyes. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-JHfhr9JWeaLTDqTqapYpIJZoVpzGhtIrhPNzIRWn8oKH5ZAJiSIvcLCHekjKooj02Mr1m2bMtYZN-FLF6kURFbQqo3pAdhyUhyphenhyphenrMiilPskMvNBtvJW3Chp3CHVjV0gmZIam/s1600-h/children.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255916876711375202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-JHfhr9JWeaLTDqTqapYpIJZoVpzGhtIrhPNzIRWn8oKH5ZAJiSIvcLCHekjKooj02Mr1m2bMtYZN-FLF6kURFbQqo3pAdhyUhyphenhyphenrMiilPskMvNBtvJW3Chp3CHVjV0gmZIam/s320/children.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div>The smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps does anybody know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumour that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning, the smile that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps.<br /></div><br /><div>The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby's limbs does anybody know where it was hidden so long? Yes, when the mother was a young girl it lay pervading her heart in tender and silent mystery of love, the sweet, soft freshness that has bloomed on baby's limbs.<br /></div><br /><div>WHEN I bring to you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints when I give coloured toys to you, my child.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_r7v24GyEuTaQPu1r1YbvQQkpVE_vjggmDUKd514KuaW9I5_4sBFVMzCtjjiXvOPiygK2tMLXiqgvwOuwU_hu5V9gzf5zi6NRMyCU5OR-baI4Z6pec1bOvEA6h6nworWTg2G-/s1600-h/flowerssnd+buterfly.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255918187055842210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_r7v24GyEuTaQPu1r1YbvQQkpVE_vjggmDUKd514KuaW9I5_4sBFVMzCtjjiXvOPiygK2tMLXiqgvwOuwU_hu5V9gzf5zi6NRMyCU5OR-baI4Z6pec1bOvEA6h6nworWTg2G-/s320/flowerssnd+buterfly.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div></div><div>When I sing to make you dance I truly know why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth when I sing to make you dance.</div><div></div><br /><div>When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands I know why there is honey in the cup of the flower and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands.I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagining all work had ceased. </div><br /><div>In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.<br /></div><br /><div>EVER in my life have I sought thee with my songs. It was they who led me from door to door, and with them have I felt about me, searching and touching my world.It was my songs that taught me all the lessons I ever learnt; they showed me secret paths, they brought before my sight many a star on the horizon of my heart. </div></div></div></div></div></div>the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29578376.post-91140952175875382562008-10-07T05:19:00.000-07:002008-10-07T06:00:09.866-07:00secret garden<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQ5ufFKkxAvp5LCo8EocsHbO0SJyUlLdpXTyrCeKjFLJPs6gehlMfwT108rvpC9RLiHQDT0BMGMdfG3CLp0N29m9qdNJdCHAco8LkDFYLQmHA7zVElEixSMWZYitDBFVh9S-V/s1600-h/secret+garden.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQ5ufFKkxAvp5LCo8EocsHbO0SJyUlLdpXTyrCeKjFLJPs6gehlMfwT108rvpC9RLiHQDT0BMGMdfG3CLp0N29m9qdNJdCHAco8LkDFYLQmHA7zVElEixSMWZYitDBFVh9S-V/s320/secret+garden.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254394384043857554" border="0" /></a><br />come to my secret garden..<br />where i put flowers right there<br />you can take it<br /><br />come to my secret garden<br />where rose and lilies<br />just sparkling their beauty<br /><br />you can take it<br />ill be happy.<br />take everything out, and ill be happy.<br /><br />just come<br />and come again..<br />take everything you want<br /><br />or you want to try the carousels<br />or merry go round?<br />play in the fountain?<br />you like the sounds of water..<br />are you not?<br /><br />this is for free<br />for free..<br /><br />come to my secret garden<br />where you can take a rest a little while<br />where love becomes the only word we speak<br />when there is no need to unveil the secret<br />because we already there<br /><br />where there is no worry,<br />no jealousy<br />no miss understanding<br />no sadness<br />no separation<br />no ego<br />nothing.<br /><br />i give myself.<br /><br /><br />ps: based on a conversation with one of "The secret guard" and... Sundari Soekotjo's karaoke's song and some fruits in the table. Thanks for the lesson. Allhamdulilah. its always mythical.. :))the writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17771186774996882170noreply@blogger.com0