Home: A sanctuary of life

what is home for you?

Is it a place? For most, we associate home with a concrete building with walls and roofs, with door of which we own the key to enter in. It's stood somewhere where we can point in the map. It has address, either a geo-wise or social-wise direction (33 Antill Street, or next to the church which pastor was accused of having an affair).

Is it a person/persons? Family, friends, partners, kids? We say people at home to refer to our families. When we say, "I miss home", often what we mean is, "I miss my family, my comfort zone, people who love me and accept me the way I am, people who mean much to me".

Is it a memory? Good, sweet, comforting, securing, encouraging, warm, upsetting? childhood memories? the cute guy next door? when you and mom baked new year's cake in the middle of night? your dad planted a kiss on your forehead? that first kiss with your crush? all the giggles with your friends? maybe


What reminds you of home? A smell? of your mom's favorite perfume, of your dad's body odor, of restaurant next door spices, of cheap coffee-to-go, of minyak kayu putih, of a rose. A taste? of a tea, of beef rendang, of Indomie :D. An image? A song? A chant?

There's a sense that home should be a fixed entity, be it a place, a person, or a memory. A reservation that remains still, where we can resort, if we get tired of the ups and downs in life. It's always there, somewhere definitive of which we are all equipped with familiar maps and direction. So if Sally gets upset about something, she only needs to think of that sweet memory of her 17th birthday.

I don't know, I am not as lucky as Sally. I have bits of all those things, at the same time, none of them. I don't feel belong to any association with home. Medan, it's no longer feel home to me (come to think of it, I wonder, if I ever felt Medan my home?). Jogja, hmm, it's always there, its door always opens. Once I forced it to be my home, tried to shape it, change it, tailor it to my definition of home. I lost. Jogja doesn't feel like home yet, I always want to come back. Tokyo, I don't think it has a place for me there and vice versa. Canberra, it's comforting but don't feel belong here.

Family, friends? Well, I am an emotionally independent person. I love them, truly. I just don't feel like coming back. I miss them sometimes, but honestly, what's more important for me is for them to live a happy, fulfilling, peaceful lives without me. I'll love them from a far, sincerely.

So what's home for me? Life for me is a journey of constantly refined destination, it's about getting there not being there. I guess if home is where your heart is, it's within me all the time. The life is my heart. My home is on the road, the path, the journey I take. A moving sanctuary of life.

1 Anno Canberrae

It's one year in Canberra (2 days ago, more precisely)

So much has happened since June 3rd 2010. I think a year in Canberra has offered me many opportunities to learn so many aspects of life, not only in academic stuff, but more importantly real life lessons.

I've met so many people from different backgrounds and I cherish each of them, even the one who did some harm to me. I think, each person life has brought to me, taught me essential clues that I should learn to proceed my journey.

I lost some good connections. The distance between me and some people were widened for better. It's a difficult lesson to understand that, sometimes, things are better left abandoned. I guess, it's a part of knowing when to let go, when to fight for maintaining the relationship, and when to change the relationship. Knowing that sometimes things and relationships take on their nature courses, and there's completely nothing wrong with that.

Nevertheless, I also have been trying to maintain good relations and to connect and interact more genuinely, less selfishly, with many once-strangers: a lovely perfectionist lady in Islamabad, a skeptic yet hopeful Vietnamese girl, a sarcastic yet encouraging academic adviser, a patience atheist-biologist, an arrogant yet gentle musical theologists, an enthusiast Chinese faith-seeker, a coffee-addict Egyptian girl, an ex journalist who is obsessed in Indonesia, a friendly yet muscly Pakistan, a helpful Bhutanese guy, and an Afghan boy who couldn't stop laughing. These are the people that Canberra has kindly introduced me and I hope the list will keep on going. Interacting with people and listening to their stories are, for me, the way to celebrate life that I am forever grateful for.

For these people, the lessons they've been teaching me, for many other reasons, and for people and lessons to come:

to Canberra, I say thank you
to God, I say thank you

and to these once-strangers, I say thank you, friends :))

The Pain of Silence

Pain comes in silent, and we suffer silently.

It was an usual sunday morning. Some new faces at church except the fact that there were tw0 young people who would re-affirm their faith, and one guy -the piano player- who would become the member of Australian Uniting Church. I personally, don't really understand the implication of being a member and don't really see the points of reaffirming your faith in public.

In the beginning of the sermon, I went outside, gathered couple of kids to play with. Oh well, we weren't actually playing. I didn't have any plan for them. So it was kind of impromptu things. I decided to tell the story of the Good Samaritan. I am not a bad story teller, if I should say so, :D. I asked them to imagine the case where they passed a street, found this half-naked-tortured man while they were in a rush to meet a beautiful lady (note: the kids were all male, note: please don't allege me suggesting sexual attraction too early). They gave quite honest and logical answer. One said he didn't know what to do, while the other said that he would call his waiting friend and explained the situation. Well done boys!!!

As we were about to wrap up, a man came out of the church and talked to one of my boys. I listened something like, 'I'll meet you soon, don't worry'. I interrupted and asked the man of what was happening. He said that he needed to go to hospital or called an ambulance as he had this pain in his chest. So I asked to sit and called 000. To sum up, in less than 10 minutes, an ambulance came. The man was examined and monitored and he had arranged his relatives to take care of his son (some people who were in the church as well at that time). The kid was a bit disoriented after that. He was quiet during our sunday school but I could tell that he was a bit confused of what happened at that time. After the worship finished, the ambulance took off and brought the man to the hospital.

All these things happened pretty quick and calmly, almost inaudible by those in church. No one in the church noticed, let alone asked what the hell was an ambulance doing in front of the church. We called an ambulance, the kids were a bit terrified, ambulance came, paramedics diagnosed him, monitored him, took him off. And within the same place, about 80 people prayed, listened to the sermon, reaffirmed their faith, sang hymns, chatted, exchanged news, and felt refreshed.

For me it feels like, each of us suffers our own pain and we are suffering in silence. Quietly the pain seeps into our life, sometimes not by our own choosing. In some contexts, those who are close to us, might feel our torments to certain degree, but no matter how close they are, our miseries are properties of our isolated being.

In contrast, happiness is most of the times louder than misery. Look at the celebration of royal wedding. We shout, we sing, we scream, we laugh, we clap sharing the joy. Maybe, just maybe, outvoiced by our celebrating sound, some people or even the supposedly happy bride and groom, were crying in their heart.

The sound of our joy has successfully covered the quiet voice of crying people in Syria, Libya, the silent agony shared by those who lost their loved ones in Alabama. It's always the case that those who win the battle will roar, and those who lose will surrender in the inexpressible and unspoken state of defeat.

As the world keeps on moving, the earth keeps on rotating in silent, undisturbed by the fact that each of us suffers the unpronounced, inarticulate, aphonic grieve and anguish, in silent.

Sahabat - Prolog

Sahabat

Saya memutuskan untuk menulis blog dalam bahasa Indonesia lagi karena topik yang satu ini, sahabat. Sulit sekali menemukan padanan kata sahabat dalam bahasa Inggris. Mungkin saja karena bahasa Inggris saya masih amburadul dan saya belum sepenuhnya mengerti makna yang terkandung dalam kata-kata seperti friends, buddy, mate, pal, dan sebagainya. Sahabat, hanya satu kata, tujuh fonem yang menangkap begitu banyak adegan dalam perjalanan hidup saya.

Bagaimana persahabatan dimulai? Apa yang membuat saya memutuskan untuk memanggil teman saya ini sahabat? Mungkinkah persahabatan berakhir? Kapan dan bagaimana? Ah teman, saya pun tidak mengerti. Apa yang saya mengerti, saya adalah orang yang berbahagia setiap kali saya menghitung sahabat saya. Sahabat saya tak banyak, tak perlu banyak, cukup untuk berbagi kesedihan, dan melipatgandakan kebahagiaan bersama.

The Social Solitaire

How do we got from here to there?

Some people walk, some drive cars, some ride bikes, some, like me, take buses

Bus, a means of transportation, a public transportation, more precisely. This is a mode of mass transportation that I use here in Canberra, or even back then in Indonesia. Although, the buses here are ten times better than those in Indonesia. Cleaner, more punctual, safer, and more comfortable.

It is times that I spend getting on the bus, sitting alone especially by window, looking outside, watching the road, people and things, passing by when I usually contemplate on my days and my life in general. Of course, it wouldn't be complete without my favorite songs played like soundtrack of a movie; like I am in sort 0f clip with glimpses of my past appearing and dissolving.

But it is that very damn songs that I would curse today (I have to curse at least one thing in a day, otherwise I can't sleep). So, what makes me get agitated by these songs in our iPods??

Because it eases solitary, it creates distance, it alienates us from the rest of passengers in the bus!! Each of us, lonely passenger get on the bus, greet the driver (hi, how's it going? good thanks), take the most comfortable seat where no one sits next to us, put our baggage beside us so that no one will try to sit next to us, plug in those two tiny speakers into our ears, and ignore the rest of the bus. I say we since it's not only me, but most of the passengers.

I imagine, like 100 years ago, there was no public transportation. Every one of us, at least every family might have had their own horses or carts, or whatever. How about poor families? I reckon either they had to walk, or they had to ask for rich neighbour's favour to pick them up, to drop them off, preferably those who are going to roughly the same direction. They must've know each other so during the journey, they were most likely to talk to each other. You know, who will get married, how's your grandson, that the priest had an affair, etc. They didn't mind talking, maybe because they had not invented iPod back then, or even Sony Walkman. They had to talk, to make the journey bearable.

However, as people get smarter, get more fragmented and things are commodified, we invented our own talking friend, our own comfort in the journey. Cell phones, books, iPods.

If bus is going to take us through the same journey, even the same destination, why would we not want to know who are those people taking the same path. Hey, you're listening to music too, maybe we're actually listening to the same singer? Do you like Jamie Cullum? Or maybe, we've been to the same place? Have you been to Tokyo? Or maybe, we want to do the same things in the future? Sky diving, anyone? Or maybe, we just had a crappy trashy day? Ah, same here!

But no, instead of changing our seat to sit next to our fellow passenger, we change our mp3. Instead of listening to their stories, we raise our mp3 volumes. Instead of talking to them, we sing to our songs (worse, we just do lypsinc). Sometimes, it really looks pathetic!!

How do we got from there to here?

We are human, we are wired to interact, we can't stand silence for too long, we need sound!! But we are also built to seek control, to manipulate environment for our own satisfaction. That's why, we find that sound from other human being are, most of the times, annoying (probably because they just talk about themselves, silly stuff, inessential and insignificant). We are not able to know what kind of 'music' will we hear from them in advance. Not like iPod where you can customize 'your talking friends' and skip, delete, remove some of the songs when we feel they don't serve our interest. With human, we can't really control their voices, the volumes, the pitch, the pace. We can't mute them whenever we are tired of them, we can't fast forward or rewind, we can't skip, we can't stop them as we like. Hence, the iPod and those two tiny wicked speakers.

And we call it civilization. well, well....