Goodbye is for everything, everyone.

In the end of everything, there must be goodbyes. I am counting the days to say goodbye to things that have been so familiar to me this past two years. And not just things, but off course, people too. For example, all the trams and their bell sound, train, pathways, streets, buildings, trees. Or some people from the early days, whom I couldn't be in contact with anymore for some classic reasons: busy. Or people from the second period, it is the distance that hindered me to meet them. For the next and the last ones, contacts are still pretty well maintained.

Soon I should say goodbye to everything, everyone, here.

I have learned to manage the bad feeling of saying goodbye since I were a small kid. When the cats and the dogs you loved were gone for various reason, you just have to continue your life. I mean, you would wake up in the morning, realizing that you wouldn't hear their voices again, or see them again, not even the tail or the grin you have been familiar with. They've just gone. Don't exist anymore in your sights. But then you have school lessons to think of, other friends to play with, your papers and pencil colors to play with, problems to solve, etc. Always there is something else come after that, that you need to wok it out. Therefore the goodbye is bearable, and naturally, absorbed in time. Some wisemen say, 'time heals', and I can't agree more.

Or, when brothers and sisters and me myself must be separated for studying in other island. Either they left you, or you left them, is as difficult to bear. But then days come and go. You learned to manage the sense of loss in the first days or weks. But then you started to step the ground realistically: there's not so much you can do about it: they left, you left, what can you do about these facts? Only one: focusing on things forward, and not backward.

That is, consequently bring me again to what I called the importance of perspective, as I mentioned earlier in previous post about why I enjoy elevations. I recall everytime I move from one city to another, from one place to another, the hardest and the most important moments are when the plane is taking off and starting to fly. When I see the city from such elevation. I usually notice a building, or paddyfield, or sea, or trees I recognized. They are getting smaller..and smaller..and smaller..until they vanished from my sights. Then the stewardees start to announce about the elevation, the meals, the entertainment, etc. Then I start to think about the new place I will come to and what I should do. Then I feel better. Hardly there is regret about what have been left behind. Because I believe time cannot be moved backward. It is moving forward. And whatever hard I cry or regret, nothing will ever ever change.

When someone dies, it is the hardest thing to manage. Because, you know, when they're dead, it means you will never see them again in the real life. Death is a no no separator. No one can jump over the barrier between the deaths and the alives, unless God Himself. So when you look at the face of the loved one for the last time, it is really really hard to manage the feeling that you'll never be able to look them again that way in this life. Thanks God, His promise, is the only thing I can hold on to in this situation: that all of us will meet again in the land, a better land than this Earth. It is in His land, it is in His House, the eternal house for our spirits where there is no more goodbye, where there is no more sorrow, where there is no more tears, where there is no more deaths, where there is no more concept of 'time' as we know.

Then I suddenly remember this song that has strengthen us so much when we had to say goodbye forever to my father:


There’s a land that is fairer than day,
And by faith we can see it afar;
For the Father waits over the way
To prepare us a dwelling place there.

In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

We shall sing on that beautiful shore
The melodious songs of the blessed;
And our spirits shall sorrow no more,
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest.

In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

To our bountiful Father above,
We will offer our tribute of praise
For the glorious gift of His love
And the blessings that hallow our days.

In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore
Words: Sanford F. Bennett
Music: Joseph P. Webster

The dark side of imagination

A chilly afternoon in this city. Seven degrees only. I went with Judy to Tim Burton's exhibition at ACMI, Federation Square. We have to pass a long queue to be able to observe an enormous number of pictures, sketches, statues, moving images, cartoons, costumes, replicas, etcetera.

I realized, time and time again, that most of the genius are introverts. They live, to some exent, in their own realities. They imagine things, sometimes, or most of times, different, almost deviant, from others' thoughts and imagination. It's clearly obvious from the life of Tim Burton too. His imagination has particular characters. They'r dark, they're gothic, sort of creepy and sadistic. Baby pinched with nails, corpse brides, sound monsters, Joker, Mad Hatter and everything else that are beyond 'normal people' imagination I suppose. And he sold them well. The company did.

I also realize that people do enjoy darkness, deep down under their unconsciousness. I, for instance, liked to play on the cemetery long time ago. Looking at the 'valley of the death' when the sun set raised a feeling of helplessness as a human being. Reminded me of the end of our profane being in this world. 'Cause all men die, -as James Blunt sadly sang.

I personally don't really like these gothic, creepy stuff. But I was curious to find out how's the creative process was conducted actually. From sketching on the piece of paper up to the moving image production. How the creative process took place in the beginning. And how it touched people emotionally. Exploring their own darkness side of self. A message of bitterness and mockery I smelled from Mr. Burton's work. By leaving all the 'normalities' and sentimental feelings behind, he twisted around with realities. 'Till we, the audience, see the light again, 'till the screen rolls down, and we wake up, and realising that they're just creatures from someone else's imagination. That they're just unreal.


Note: To check his works, his official website is: http://www.timburton.com. The picture in this post was taken from the flyer.

The end of an era.

The university era has come to an end for me this month, July 2010. Papers and thesis have been submitted. Results have been released. Walking down the isles of the libraries triggered a different feeling. Different senses than the ones that I perceived when I was in rush for finishing those academic papers. They were emptier than before. Winter break it has been. It was a chilly evening, the mercury stood between 9 and 10 degrees. Jumping off the tram at Stop 11, I found the pathways emptier. The trees along the pathways are bare, more than the last time I recalled, which only a week or two away from now. Mere empty branches, leaveless. Winter has took them off of the trees.

I reckoned that the cafes close earlier. Came at 4.30 and the staff of Professor's Court cafe were folding the chairs and closing the sliding glass door, preparing to close it. The taste of the muffins are still familiar, and so do the chai latte.

They looked different to me now 'though. Never knew why, I sort of looking at replicas ("a replica is a copy that is relatively indistinguishable from the original, which are a copy used for historical purposes, such as being placed in a museum", according to Wikipedia). Or artefacts perhaps. They're fading away from my memories. I felt like the curtain of the cinema is rolling down, starting to cover down the main screen of my part of life here, if my chunk of life here is illustrated as a movie, with stories and plots, laughters and tears, food, travels, lunches, dinners, celebrations, seminars, rains, hails, flood, drought, fires.

I don't know why, I always have a strong feeling of time as a linear process, the feeling that I always move forward, not backward, and defnitely not static either. Everytime I move from one city to another, there's always been the sense of 'closing and opening curtain'. In between, there have always been series of adjustments, famliarization to the new work, places, senses, smells, crowds, speed, temperatures, traffics, markets, skies, and the peoples, most of all. And likely, when all things were way too familiar, too established, too settled, I started to smell a sort of, boredom, a weariness of sameness. Losing of challenges. City's dynamics turned into statics. Familiar routes to and fro work place started to look like the same page of book that I read over and over. So did the job. The page needs to be turned to the next. Moving. It is hard to be a sedentary creature*, indeed.


Note:
*definition of sedentary: "remaining or living in one area, as certain birds; not migratory", from www.thefreedictionary.com)

"Don't be offended if I give you some money"

The world as we know (and at least, as we read on papers and screens), is the world lack of compassions, exceedingly greedy, where everything is calculated, valued and monetized with price tags. The habit of calculating everything, widely discussed in an intriguing way in Freakonomics by Stephen Levitt (2005) for instance, seems to be the most common and acceptable human ways of deciding any actions and decisions. The main idea is that incentives is the root of all human actions.

This is where I find it difficult to match some 'uncommon' acts of mercy and compassions. What if people do something good simply because they think it is good to do? Not because of the incentives from superior, peers, nor because of any financial incentives? I don't suggest that people who do this have been extinct, but in our contemporary politics at least, this idea is way too hard to perceive. It is almost impractical. Many researches were conducted to find out whether a regent really did all good policies because he/she simply wanted the best for his/her citizens, or because she/he was moved by political and economical incentives?

I suddenly recall a small debates we've had in our small office few years ago. While we analyzed why a particular regent issued a pro-poor policy that did not seem to give him a significant political reward, a colleague inquired us to find what is the incentives he might have gained through that, or what was the driving force/motive of his action. Other colleague stated that it's because the regent is widely known as a kind person. As simple as that. Way too simple it looked odd. The other colleague contended that it is (nearly) impossible for one to do such things without a beneficial incentives in my mind, be it financial or political. Two people with two different way in approaching and examining a good action. That debate I found substantially important as a reflection and an interesting topic to explore human beings' diversity in general.

It is common to find that when someone is being kind to others, the kindness is often abused, because kindness, true and sincere one, is of the rare commodity. It is easy to exploit, since the doer mostly does not realize that he/she is a rare creature, a sheep in the wolves' world. Or else, it is hard to perceive, therefore it is always being seen cynically as a 'no such thing as free lunch' approach. What if the free lunch is truly for free? Chances are, if the doer did this, he/she thought that it is a normal way to do things. But most people will find it odd, and do an action that 'normal' people would do: grateful in a calculated manner: giving money, giving a price tag to the kindness action. In normal language, it is a symbol of grateful. However, in the doer's perception, that is not necessary at all,since she/he did that for his/her own pleasure, for the joy of giving, of doing good and right things.

That is when you did something you think is just normal, and people who you did good thought of replying your kindness financially. Knowing that you are not the type of person who thinks of it in a financial and incentives-motive way, people who you did good usually inform it to you politely: "Don't be offended if I give you some money". What will you do next?

caption: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Freakonomics.jpg

Paintings in my mind (2)

Today I attended European Masters' painting exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV). These are the collection of Stadel Museum, in Frankfurt, which were shipped here for one of the main attractions for Melbourne's Winter. I saw the original paintings of Picasso, Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir and other famous names, such as Rodin (with his sculptures). Their paintings are great, although not all of their iconic works are there.

Looking at them, again, reminding me of the paintings I have never been able to make. The brush strokes, the blend of paint colors, the lighting effects...all have frustrated me because of my inability to properly do them, although I have wished for it so much.

Anyway, I'm glad, some of my childhood dream again came true: seeing the world-class paintings with my own eyes in my lifetime. One item checked!

PS:
Caption:
Pierre Auguste RENOIR
French 1841-1919
After the luncheon
(La fin du déjeuner) 1879
oil on canvas
100.5 x 81.3 cm
Städel Museum, Frankfurt
Acquired in 1910

U. Edelmann - Städel Museum/ARTOTHEK

From:
http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/whats-on/exhibitions/exhibitions/melbourne-winter-masterpieces-2010

Window of the world

Three generations before me, my ancestors perhaps did not know that there is a world beyond their small tiny island. Two generations before me, they started to be able to read and knew that there were some lives as well beyond their small island. With the opening of schools, my grandfather started to acknowledge that the world is so broad and that it is possible to travel to, and there were some great people outside his small world. He started to travel outside the island, to serve as a teacher in other island. My father and his brothers were sent outside the island, to pursue their higher degree. Back then, he realised that his children including the girls must have the opportunity to be educated at whatever cost possible. Learning from his sisters who had not gotten the opportunity as good as his, all of his daughters enjoy the same level of education as the sons. Now I enjoy living abroad to study, as my brother did, as my other brother will. Other siblings have also been lived or travelled abroad quite extensive. Something my grandfather and grandmother might have just dreamed about! Therefore I may say, education is indeed, the window of the world!

Caption: window of Irene's room, at Dorothy Impey Nursing Home, Pascoe Vale.

The girl who has never eaten oranges

This title may be unimaginable for those who live in the developed countries, or even those who live in Indonesian cities, yet this is a 2010 story.

Her name is Y. She's about 12 years old when I met her. She now lives with my Mom. The story about how she eventually ended up in my Mom's house is probably just a normal story for those who live in Timor, or Kupang to be precise. There are way too many poor families live in rural Timor areas; Y's parents are among those hundred of thousand families. Her parents have 6 children. She's number 3, and has 3 younger siblings. One of them is still breastfed. She comes from a typical poor farmer family, who has very small plot of land, living subsistently, and very much depends on the so called 'social capital', a.k.a, social network: the neighbour and uncle who work as construction worker in Kupang. I don't know how it started, but my sister happened to find Y's older sister to work for her from one of the construction worker uncle. A, if I'm not mistaken, is her name. A's work is very good, that when my sister needed a boy to help her family with gardening etc, the uncle and A ask for A's younger brother to join with my sister's family. And Am, that's the boy's name, came and joined his sister, by living in my sister's house. Since he was in school already in his village, my sister and her husband, -both are teachers, continued to send him to school where my brother in-law teaches.

Then came my younger brother's wife, who has a 'babysitter' for his infant daughter, who also the A's family connection (yes, this is part of the 'social network' I was talking about). She said that A's parents 'offered' their younger daughter to be a help for her, with cooking and babysitting. So, that's how Y came to our family's life.

One day, my sister in law found that the fruits she kept for my niece were missing. Someone stole it from the shelve. Y denied that it was her. Several dramatic interrogations by my in-law, who believed that Y's a cheater, resulted in her being transferred to my Mom's house (to shorten the story, I wouldn't give any details here), as per our advices. We're concerned to keep her in school because she was just transferred from the school in her village for a week, so if she had to return to the village, no school will accept her back.

After staying at our home for some days, and I suggested Mom to feed her well, we found out that this girl apparently had never been exposed to different kinds of food. Terribly enough, she doesn't eat fish because she was not used to from her 'landlocked' village. As for fruits, she had never practically seen apples, oranges, moreover grapes or strawberries for example. It's amazing how we take it for granted, that fruits must be available in our daily diets, to keep us healthy. Some people have never imagined such fruits. We, at home, started to get the real picture now. Imagine oneself, in one's teenager days, eager and curious about the world, and looked at a red apple, or a shiny rounded orange, and one just can see it but not allowed to touch it. It's probably hard, unless, one's parents educated one very good on ethics and morality, good and bad (eg. stealing is not good for whatever reason, even it is deep poverty). That, is too much to expect from a poor family who has 6 mouths to be fed with the crops from their small plot of land. The most probable thing is, one would like to try taste it, at any cost. And Y, has just made sense for her circumstances. She chose to take it. She tasted it. And she became a thief in common people's eyes. But she was given second chance I supposed. With a bit of effort to understand the circumstances, she was given the opportunity, as Mom said, she was too young to be punished. It was just oranges, by the end of the day. Imagine her future as a human, capable of learning and doing much better things than her parents in the village, for herself and for others, must be damaged because of the stolen oranges*.

Just because she has never eaten oranges before, doesnt mean her life must be ruined....

Epilogue: I was just rang home, Mom said that Y got good marks at school. The teachers admired her, since it is very rare that a student transferred from village would make a good rank in the city school.


* I remember Les Miserables that is about this theme.

S.U.N.Y.I...S.I.L.E.N.C.E

Buat beberapa orang, sunyi adalah hukuman
Buat beberapa orang, sunyi adalah neraka itu sendiri
Sunyi adalah perjalanan meluncuri jurang
Saat jatuh, dan tidak tahu kapan akan mencapai dasar jurang
Seperti itulah rasanya sunyi
Kita merasa harus mengisinya
Kita merasa kita harus memberi isi pada wadah kosong itu
Kita merasa harus memberi makna pada volume kosong wadah itu
Karena jika tidak, kosong itu tak terdefinisikan
Sehingga orang menciptakan realitas (realitas) lain
Untuk mengisi sunyi itu

Peradaban manusia bagaikan upaya mengisi sunyi yang panjang
Karena dalam sunyi panjang itu kita tak dapat diam saja
Kita mencoba menciptakan realitas-realitas lain
Karena tak satupun yang telah sampai ke dasar itu
Datang dan menceritakan kepada mereka yang menunggu,
Apakah sunyi itu tak berguna sama sekali?
Ataukah berguna sekali? Siapa yang tahu?

Lebih berbahagia mereka yang tahu hakekat sunyi itu sedari awal
Sehingga sadar bahwa mereka sedang dalam perjalanan menuju dasar
Yang mereka sudah tahu rupanya
Atau paling tidak, yang mereka yakin mereka sudah tahu
Karena jika kita tidak tahu sedang mengapa sekarang kita
Atau sedang menuju ke mana kita nanti
Tidak masalah di titik mana kita berada sekarang
Karena tidak ada bedanya

Lebih berbahagia ialah mereka yang tahu hakekat sunyi itu sedari awal
Daripada mereka yang menjalani kesunyian tanpa kesadaran
Bagaikan orang yang bermimpi dalam perjalanan
Dan terkesiap saat terjaga
Dan mendapatinya berada di dasar jurang
Yang tak pernah diketahui
Namun yang tidak ada lagi gunanya untuk diketahui…

----------------
SILENCE  (Englist transl)

For some people, silence is a punishment
For some people, silence is hell itself
Silence is like sliding down the abyss
On the way down, with no knowledge of when it will reach the abyss
Such as quietness
We feel compelled to fill it
We feel we had to give substance to the empty container
We feel compelled to give meaning to the volume of the empty container
Because if not, the empty remains undefined
So people create other reality 
To fill the silence

Human civilization is like an attempt to fill a long silence
Because in the long silence we can not say anything
We tried to create other realities
Because none of them have come to the bottom of the abyss
Or come back and tell those who wait,
Is this quietness useless at all?
Or is it useful? Who knows?

Happier are those who know the essence of silence outset
So they aware that they were on the way to the bottom
That they already knew apparently
Or at least, that they believed they already knew
Because if we do not know what are we doing now here
Or where we are heading next
It is none of a problem at which point are we now
Because it makes no difference

More blessed are those who know the essence of silence outset
Than those who underwent silence without awareness
Like a man who had been dreaming all the way
And gasped when awake
And found him at the bottom of the abyss
that he had never known
But that there was no longer any point to know ...

Inspired by: Waiting for Godot, Samuel Beckett
Caption: Poso, Rima's platform in the morning, 2005