Beautiful morning then tea spilling

This morning is one of the most beautiful mornings I have ever experienced in Melbourne. It is in contrast with the previous day where I saw only dark clouds and dark grey skies. It is as if the skies lose their clouds as they were swept fully by heavy rain last night.

Yesterday was one of the worst days, the opening of winter season. Rain almost all day, dark sky and it was wintry cold. I thought it was snowy too because the snowflakes like shower yesterday, falling lightly light flakes pouring from the sky and caught in the barren trees branches, pretty awesome and beautiful, as almost heavenly I could not stand to share it with someone, no matter how strange it was sounded.

And this morning yes, I came at 10.30 something, bought some fruits in the cheap food store at the tram stop, and got some hot water at the kitchen when I meat J. She looks great and we exchange words for sometimes, oh well, the classic weather small talks, but it was nice always to see some familiar faces around the office, isn't it? Then I made my tea, jasmine tea from Indonesia, Tong Tji I think, a cheap brand back there, but so far inconquered in aroma even from the expensive tea that I see at the super market shelves in here. As someone says sometime ago, we are born and raised with low quality tea, so our taste is pretty different with those that are more familiar with the higher quality tea. 

But the sky, yes, the sky is remarkably blue this morning. So I took out the room frehener that I bought this morning and hooked it near the opened window. It supposed to be .... then I spilled my cup of tea into my laptop. And, so that was the end of my beautiful day.

Bacatidaktulis

Two weeks ago I have that fire and passion to write, and then I started read again, and I was lost again, kinda lost all my apettite to write because of too much information that I should digest. Overwhelming. Stuck.

The old man is gone

For all doors that are closed for us, see it from different mindset. There might be other door opens on other time, other space. I keep wondering why God seems to always use whoever gives sermon in this church, every Sunday that I have a problem, the right, striking a chord type of sermon that seems unbelievably like God Himself is talking to me. I guess, what they say as a 'living Words', or 'living Scripture' does exist. I feel it powerful, like God uses the preacher to reach out to me, to encourage me of whatever difficulty and dilemma that I am facing at exactly the same day. Today, the theme is 'The old man is gone'. I felt suffocated to read the title on the powerpoint slide. I repeated it in my heart word by word: the. old. man. is. gone. And yes, yesterday, the -man is gone. After came and introduced himself few days earlier, he's gone. Like, ghosting, after did that one call. Ah-ma-zing. 

Since last night, I struggled with my self confidence. How come, after one call, someone decided that, no, she's not good? This hurts me so much. I feel like stupid, and think I lose some confidence. And maybe, these people, are simply consumed by their own perception. But should I the one who feels bad about it? No, it's them who should feel bad about themselves. I live, I will remain. Ephesian 4: 18-24. This passage is read today and makes me think maybe, just maybe, I am not from this world, I am not for mutual exclusive kind of relationship. I am not built for that. I am not wired for that thing. I keep trying, they say, but keep failing. Just because I am honest, nobody likes me. Is it then, my problem, or theirs? If my personality is not compatible with these people, why should I bother? I can't change who I am to be what they like. I just can't. I find it hard to explain myself. And my life. And my way of life. And my faith. And, the way I live. If one feels they are iritated by myself, then they are not worth it. I think, it's my ego that was hurt. Yes, battle symphony.

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; ²³ to be made new in the attitude of your minds; ²⁴ and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

Sundays in my childhood memory

A classic sunny Sunday morning, with family and/or friends, going to church in the morning, and after that eating out or cook together at home, with conversations that seem endless. Not a quiet one, a rather wild one, with kids running around or trying to help (but ended up ruining things instead). That is the kind of Sunday morning that I recall from my childhood. My dad will turn the music player on (and loud, since he had a big pair of standing speakers, taller than us!), with Christian songs during normal days, or Christmas carols (!) in Decembers. That is my definition of normal. That's why, with that kind of upbringing, my memories are filled with those songs, and Bible verses that I read because I did not have many books to read back then, and the only access was to the Bible - the only book that was available all the time, and had always been read every Sunday or every occasion like neighborhood worship evening. That's why, again, every time I hear the old Christian songs or hymns, my mind can't help but wandering around and remember both of them, Mom and Dad, who are peacefully rest in eternity now (Earth time - the chronos). Songs, music, they can retrieve old memory from brain cells and bring it up to present time. I think.

A sunny Sunday in the midst of winter days

Yesterday was a too beautiful day to be wasted at home. But the reality was, I scrolled down both layers of my window blind curtain down at the bottom, almost touched the floor level the night before because I thought i could retain the heat from the heater (the expensive one!) that way, and lost like a quarter of that beautiful day because I slept until 9.30 or nearly until 10 in the morning. When I woke up, it was a bit cloudy, I opened my phone and my friend texted me asking what would I do today because the day is beautiful. I was like, err, I just woke up, honestly. And it's a bit cloudy outside (a sort of justification of me not being outside at the moment. I instead, prepared my brekkie, ate and back to my electric blanket, to try get some inspirations for my draft. I have been like playing with a rubric trivia since last month, because I kept organising and re-organising the structure of my draft until I confused myself of what I have been looking for all this time.  I stucked, and then I stood and stared from my window. Hindered by the newly unfinished constructed apartment tower across my room, I still could see the sky a little beet, peeking from the northwestern side of my window. Blue. Like clear blue, crystal clear.  Then I hated myself of not doing anything. So I woke up, dyed my hair in cold water, dried with hairdryer (sorry for my housemate who pays the bills, this Oz hairdryer is a bit fantastically unbelievable in terms of electricity consumption: 2K wattage! but I had no choice when buying it, nothing at any shops that I visited, that is under 2K wattage, what can I do?). Then, I felt bit warm, indeed the sunshine felt from my room a bit. So I decided, "I am going out". Highly determined, I reached unto the top drawer of my built-in-robe where my Rio de Janeiro summer thong is stored, well, using chair to assist me reaching it, I am just 5ft tall. So that was quite an effort. I wore a short sleeves black t-shirt I purchased from Cold Play concert in Melb eight years ago, and a thin cotton short pants that I haven't been worn for ages (well, at least since last February when the weather were 'normal' in my tropical perspective of normality). And I bravely waked outside the apartment, to chase the sunshine outdoor, so brave I could almost hear the anthem We are the champion or the sort of victorious songs :-). I must have a reason though, so I thought, buying some basic groceries will be great. I thought of milk and bread, but then I recalled that I have bread remain on the fridge, so only milk, and since I have no more fruits, maybe an apple or two. Two granny smith apples and a carton of calci-plus soy milk from a brand I like. After paying, I saw that there are two or three benches outside the supermarket that I could use to sit. So there I am, sitting down alone with a pair of thong, short sleeves t-shirt and a thin jacket, with short pants, eating a green apple as my lunch. I looked at the public housing across my bench. Some people came in and out with cars or walking. Next to my bench, a guy with glaring orange vest was sitting down too. I wasn't sure whether he was eating or just being sleepy and looking for sunshine just like me. Then I looked again and I read his back vest, is written: Big Issue. Oh. So he was finishing his job, delivering and selling Big Issue, must be in the city center somehow. At 3 pm or 4 pm, he finished. After that, I looked him walking across the street, and getting into the public housing. So he lives there. And in the street and in the parking lot, many good, luxurious cars are parked and run. Also, many people lives in my apartment complex, who afford to pay nearly 2K per month for rent. I wonder how much they pay for public housing, perhaps half or less than that, subsidising by the government. But I still feel like the inequality is bit worse, because poverty at destitution level, as literature says, had long been erased in the developed world like this, unlike in the developing countries where it is rampant and pervasive. You can see and feel it everywhere, often, you're part of it always, so you think it is normal. And I, suddenly, feel so sad. Because I live in a nice apartment and he lives there in that dodgy-look public housing, even though we may have same level of income, just perhaps. This feeling, this same guilty feeling I felt when I was small, and looked at my friends who lived in the orphanage nearby my kindergarten, and looked at myself with pretty warm and nice house. Or when I looked at my neighbor who didn't have enough food to eat they had to share bits of fruits and nice food to eight or ten people, while we sometime had to throw bananas because we fed up with bananas everyday (I seldom saw bananas at their dining table, so I one day smuggled a box of banana - to avoid being rejected as I knew they had that pride - to their back kitchen door, and they suspected those stuff too mysterious to take or eat -they thought it's black magic voodoo or poisonous so they threw it). That same guilty feeling because I am richer than they are. I don't know why I was born this way, maybe I am somehow born to be leftist who are guilty of material possessions (later in life I have savings though), but perhaps it is simply the Bible verses that I read earlier in my childhood and that I memorising it in my brain, they are stick there. The verses about Lasarus the beggar and the rich person. And the verses about those who help the poor in the world that God admitted to heaven after they died. Maybe.      
       

  

The movie-wwomen

It is a good movie, I must admit. The idea that there is (are) God(s) behind the evil and good things that human beings contemplate and do is great, to begin with. Zeus, Arius, Diana, and all the Greek mythology gods. So it was about Zeus created the world and saw that all good, humans are good too. But one of his son, Ares, planted envy in human hearts, so they start to envy each other, hate and kill each other. Therefore they become more and more evil.

It is interesting that she doesn't surrender into 'politics', 'diplomacy' and all sort of'big adult talks' that make you less care about humans' lives, real people, real faces, not statistics on papers, or the 'greater good' reasons: help one wouldn't matter, sacrifice one for one million -thingy - that I always find it hard to take into my mind, but apparently there is the psychology behind it. "We can't save all lives", or "We can't stop this war unless we use strategy" and let some people die instead..because some lives are more valuable than others, and worth more to save than others, are indeed pragmatist in tones. But then I think, it is wonderful indeed to be a wonder women: having power to slew the logic and exercise MY OWN power instead, to stop the talk, the diplomatic talk, the nonsense talk, the talks that the longer they take, the more human lives are at stake.

Then suddenly I remember Jesus, the Son of God, the King of kings, who lived on Earth about two millenia ago, who also easily carried away easily by compassion toward the most despicable one: Matthew the tax collector, or the vilest ones: the lephers, or the weakest ones: the women who bleed and the children. He lookeds into their eyes and have compassion, the love that doesn't endure by time, by others, by circumstances, by pressures, love that is constantly giving, constantly flowing out, like a living fountain. The Man who once said "Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth", and not 'blessed are the contender because they get all the power on earth'. 

And then I remember the talks in the midst of power encounter between Diana and Ares, between lightning and thunder and blasts and darkness, Ares that advocate to kill all the men and start a new beginning, a new world without hatred and without wars, "a new world peace", and Diana is tempted to follow his advice..then in the last minutes she realised that to do so, means to swipe all humanity from the Earth, kill them off all. Suddenly the prospect doesn't seem to be that enticing anymore to her. And she said: no. Why that I feel the resemblance with the event when Jesus was tempted in the mountain by the devil? "If you worship me, I will give this earth, this beautful earth, for you". And He wasn't tempted, just like her. The Bible did not mention the detail, about what was in his mind at the time He contemplated the temptation, but perhaps, the imagination went like 'Maybe, just maybe, I can skip the cross, this way...'. But he didn't, because He remembers (remember the future, yes, because He doesn't quite work in time as we know), what happens when human lives are not redeemed by His death. It is His real battleground, the Calvary, not that, in the mount Olive (sic).   

The forgotten dance of the fingers

Now I know why I wrote so bad last month, I mean, since early May to early June, my writing did not develop, almost thouroughly, thouroughly under developed. It was because I did not write passionate enough. And I did not write much enough. Now I tell you what I have done too much: reading, searching, browsing, diving into literature, attempting too much to absorb them in my poor braincells and slowly....it went nowhere. My skill has not developed at all. I felt estranged from writing activity. I have been so numbed, my fingers do not understand how to dance anymore with words. How to craft words into piece of writing. How to feel the flow of my writing, from my brain, through my hands, through my fingers, to the screen and papers. It's just too long. Until last Wednesday when I was reminded by my supervisor to keep writing, to jot down ideas, to jot down thoughts, even any small thoughts of anything into writing, so that I would not forget them, can keep track them later, and learn from them.

When the lecture in Advanced QM class showed his field notes, in which he jotted down everything, from the situation at the room where he interviewed his informant, to comments from people in the room, to any single details he saw, stroke a chord to me. I should have done those. I haven't really done that before because I believe in my memory. That my brain can hold some facts and keep them for me when I want to retrieve them. Everytime. But it doesn't work that way. Brain can take so much information within few days, or even hours. I read that somewhere.

Now I realise that I talked more than I wrote last month. I talked and met people and talked. But talked my thoughts out didn't do much for my writing. It doesn't improve my skills. What I should do is write write write. 

Here are some tips from my supervisor that I should do next:

- Nice phrases and idioms (collect from articles etc!)

- Find help from others (he talked about his brother, his hiring trainer etc.)

- Using all aids when needs be: cards, books, notes 

-----> I hated it when he said not to use Balkanisation and cash-cows :-p

But the word that really really stroke a chord to me is when the lecture said: "dance", D A N C E when your fingers dance to write. That moment, was the moment of truth for me. The moment that kept me up and awake and stayed late until 1 a.m to dance, dance with my ideas, and let my fingers dance with keyboards, let my ideas flowing and dancing on the screen, to cut, paste, edit, cut here and there, decorate a bit, trashed some to bins... a work, really a nice work. Dance. Passionately. I reinvent my passion. I return my old flame. I should dance. I should let my fingers dance. I should dance passionately. Then I realised, the whole last month, I acted like a zombie, or some forced marriage bride. I didn't engulf myself with the passion. Or I danced but was at pressure. They didn't flow together. I doesn't work that way Ria, it doesn't work that way.

This is a marathon
Not a sprint
This is a long time competition that requires endurance
Not speed
Consistency
Perseverance
Determination
Now I more and more understand
What St. Paul meant by saying "“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7)
It means that he has finished a long weary race, a competition.
This is the Bible verse we put (I chose) on Mom's gravestone [peace be with upon her]. Why? Because I think, she has finished her race on Earth as well. She endured all the years of agony, being betrayed, being faithful to the unfaithful spouse, being dedicated to her children, the congregation and her students and the poor and the needy ones.  She did it. She endured life. She was able to did it all, because she believed in Jesus. Until her last breath, she mentioned Jesus' name. What a beautiful thing to know that she held onto that name, that very Name, name upon all names.
Now I remember her, and recall, that I too must follow her example. Living in faith

ODB today (13-04-2017, Good Friday eve)

"Jesus faced the agony of the garden without the comfort of a hand to hold. But because He bore that pain, we can be confident that God will never leave or forsake us (Heb. 13:5). Jesus suffered so that we will never have to experience separation from the love of God (Rom. 8:39). His companionship makes anything we endure more bearable."


“Lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 12:1-2).

Foolishness, to me is...

What is foolishness?

Foolishness is the inability to distinguish an original, pure thing from the fake one.

Foolishness is knowing that you when you have the opportunity to get only the second, third, fourth quality of a thing, and still think it is OK to sacrifice the purest, most genuine and original one with the second, third or even fourth quality stuff.

Foolishness is to believe that good thing comes fast and as we want, when we want it

Foolishness is to think that poor quality goods will last, when you know from the beginning that it would not last a second or a minute..and you still go for it, expecting some different results (that junk will turn into gold overnight, just because you want it to turn into valuables).

Foolishness is doing same thing over and over, and expect for different results (this should be quoted from somewhere but I'll do that later).

Rock of Ages, let me hide myself in Thee

1	Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee; Let the water and the blood, From Thy riven side which flowed, Be of sin the double cure, Save me from its guilt and power.
2	Not the labor of my hands Can fulfill Thy law’s demands; Could my zeal no respite know, Could my tears forever flow, All could never sin erase, Thou must save, and save by grace.
3	Nothing in my hands I bring, Simply to Thy cross I cling; Naked, come to Thee for dress, Helpless, look to Thee for grace: Foul, I to the fountain fly, Wash me, Savior, or I die.
4	While I draw this fleeting breath, When mine eyes shall close in death, When I soar to worlds unknown, See Thee on Thy judgment throne, Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee. O Love that wilt not let me go 1 O Love, that wilt not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee; I give Thee back the life I owe, That in Thine ocean depths its flow May richer, fuller be. 2 O Light, that followest all my way, I yield my flickering torch to Thee; My heart restores its borrowed ray, That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day May brighter, fairer be. 3 O Joy, that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to Thee; I trace the rainbow through the rain, And feel the promise is not vain That morn shall tearless be. 4 O Cross, that liftest up my head, I dare not ask to fly from Thee; I lay in dust life’s glory dead, And from the ground there blossoms red Life that shall endless be.

Now this..2nd day

Move

TobyMac

Another heartbreak day
Feels like you’re miles away
Don’t even need no shade
When your sun don’t shine, shine 

Too many passin’ dreams
Roll by like limousines
It’s hard to keep believin’
When they pass you by and by 

I know your heart been broke again
I know your prayers ain’t been answered yet
I know you’re feeling like you got nothing left
Well, lift your head, it ain’t over yet, ain’t over yet so 

Move, keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
Move, keep walkin’ until the mornin’ comes
Move, keep walkin’ soldier keep movin’ on
And lift your head, it ain’t over yet, ain’t over yet 

Echoin’ inside your head
Are the words that your sweet momma said
“Shoot for the moon, my dear”
So you took aim out of this atmosphere
Between high…

He is just victorious

The Wonderful Cross

Chris Tomlin

When I survey the wondrous CrossOn which the Prince of Glory diedMy richest gain, I count but lossAnd pour contempt on all my prideSee from His head, His hands, His feetSorrow and love flow mingled downDid ever such love and sorrow meet?Or thorns compose, so rich a crownOh the wonderful Cross, oh the wonderful CrossBids me come and die and find that I may truly liveOh the wonderful Cross, oh the wonderful CrossAll who gather here by grace, draw near and bless Your nameWere the whole realm of nature mineThat were an offering far too smallLove so amazing, so divineDemands my soul, my life, my allOh the wonderful Cross, oh the wonderful CrossBids me come and die and find that I may truly liveOh the wonderful Cross, oh the wonderful CrossAll…


Today, Sunday, 2 April 2017
Minggu Pra-Paskah ke-5
I have been so lost, so far away from Him
I had no idea, no feelings about Pessach, Resurrection, Lent, Easter, whatever
The classical Judeo-Christianity holy days and rituals in Spring time
I thought I will deliberate miss these moments of reflecting faith this year
2017, the year I started my life here
Because everyone here don't care anyway, of God, of Divine intervention
of those ancient myths, they say, or flying spaghetti monster, whatever
Then today, in the morning
That devil called
I felt so wild, so bad, so rebellious, almost liberated, from Him, from His command, from his Words.
I followed the devil
I followed the weak flesh of mine
and tainted this Domingo day, this memorial of the VoskreseniyeAnd there, when some odds drive led me to the church at 4.55 pm
I followed.

At that very conjunction of D***n and Sy**** Rd.

When my feet stepped into the pavement for pedestrian

After getting off the tram

I think.. when the battle started to be swinging to His side

I stopped and thought..to follow T* to the left - and didn't go to church

Or to step to the right and go to church, and accepted the fact that I'm a sinner

Which perhaps can reconcile my sins with the Words

So I took the right step, which proved to be the RIGHT STEP

I thought it was a luck of me, a lottery of coincident

But I was wrong, it was not me

It was Him, always, all the time

I think hard now.... that I imagine the process behind the screen:

Screwtape and Wormwood on the training in Inferno

And their enemy, their very Enemy (in capital)

Were trying to look at me and bet

Or did some power struggle

To get me, by my fall and wrecked or by my standing up

And there

In that old ancient red brick church

Cold and dampened in this early autumn

Again

The battle is won by Him

Something was sent

I think from heaven, while I was there in church

So when I got home

All the messages I knew I would receive

To convince me to leave the Devil

Are received, right in front of my face

That was when I know

That moment

That Screwtape and Wormwood, had been defeated

That this is a loss for them

'Cause He wins once more from them

He is victorious and He shows me that

BLUNTLY

All evidence and proofs are provided

Without me asking

Right on the table

By some stupid mistakes of others

That put me in the corner

That I can run, but I can't hide from Him

Blessed be Thy name o Lord

Nothing compares to you

Like ancient Israel in the Bible

Who knew that God has helped them through thin and thick

But still looked for other idols

And made Him jealous and angry

I am like them

Not grateful, but betrayed Him

With my repeated sins

Then I got into this song, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

Then I wept on these lines when they are sang:

 
Love so amazing, so divine
Demands my soul, my life, my all


Then I remember Screwtape and Wormwood
Poor guys
I'm sorry
It is your loss
I'm His, not yours

And then this from ODB today, which title is, ODDLY: Behind the Scenes

https://odb.org/2017/04/02/behind-the-scenes-5/

The Old Testament prophet Daniel also anxiously awaited a reply. After receiving a frightening vision of great war, Daniel fasted and sought God through humble prayer (10:3, 12). For three weeks, he received no reply (vv. 2, 13). Finally, an angel arrived and assured Daniel his prayers had been heard “since the first day.” In the meantime, the angel had been battling on behalf of those prayers. Though Daniel didn’t know it at first, God was at work during each of the twenty-one days that elapsed between his first prayer and the angel’s coming.


I can say no more. Speecheless. How great Thou art!

Evaporated feelings

This is how it ends
Usually
It's just gone
The feeling that was intense
Evaporated away just like that
I have seen it coming
Maybe I have been made this way
Endurance in keeping up the feeling is not my diet
One day it was so intense
The next day, it's just gone

Need no philosophical thinking
It is just the way it is
Move on with life
As I always have been and will

J-P_D

Dunno. No more

I dunno
I keep repeating the same mistake
Over, and over, again
2000.2001.2002.2003.2004.2005.2006.2009.2013.2015. 2017
Years added into the equation
Just like digits in calculator
Or some lottery codes
Or whatever
And yet, patterns repeated
Over, and over, again
And this time, again after, sometime in 2003. Oct 2004. {Oct 2009}. Sept 2013. Mar 2015. [May 2016]. Mar 2017.
L*** like this does not come every time, or every year.
Maybe every 4 years, or so
And still
Nothing lasted
Just like everytime
Just like every other time
The one that got away
No more
No more
Please
No more
Risky but might be worth
Accept that it isn't meant to be
If people are able to move on
I am too
Absolutely
Like many times before

Summer rain in Melbourne

This is my second edition in Melbourne. This time I arrived in summer, unlike almost nine (!) years ago when I came in winter. This summer I reckon, is a mild one. Hardly any "world record mercury high" been broken. In reverse, there's a lot of rain and chilling days than hot days. The last time I was here, almost everyday there was record this and that mercury high, fall in city water reservation, or heatwave and bushfires.

Now I am sitting in front of my window panes. Raindrops soaked the window glass, leaving droplet marks, that dispersed bright lights from the street lights down there on the street. There is a lady with formal black dress walking under the street lights alone, near the car park. All these scenes happen in quietness, only with the bacground whispering sound of the rain...and the sound of instrumental hymn piano from my laptop's playing Spotify (allright, not that quiet I know).

And Spotify plays "Abide with me" from my laptop speaker. I am so amen to the hymn's lyrics. I pray that my Lord will remain abide with me, in every steps that I take, in every decision that I make, in every things that I do. Because I need Thee every hour, every minute, every second, every milisecond of my life.

And I open the website of Our Daily Bread, the title is "Begin where you are", just as I observe the raindrops on my window pane. Thinking how peaceful it is, the nature and the universe that God has created and creates for us. How beautiful, how serene.

This is what the author of Our Daily Bread posting today (05/02/17) writes:


A trickling waterfall, the wind in the willows, a baby robin, the blue sky, a tiny flower. Why not begin your thankfulness with this?

http://odb.org/2017/02/05/begin-where-you-are/

Yes, good Lord, I thankful, very very much for my life, for the nature and the universe that You have created and creates for us. For the privilege that I received from you, the blessings, and most of all, the Salvation, through the Logos, Jesus Christ. My grateful is barely speakable, because words are not enough to say.  

Striking return of old memory of folk dancers' photograph

Babendi bendi …
Ka Sungai Tanang, amboi kanduang ei, ka Sungai Tanang …
Ka Sungai Tanang, amboi kanduang ei
Singgah lah mamatiak diak, singgah lah mamatiak kuntum lambayuang
Singgah lah mamatiak diak, singgah lah mamatiak kuntum lambayuang

Hati siapo …
Indak kan sanang, amboi kanduang ei, indak kan sanang …
Indak kan sanang, amboi kanduang ei
Maliek si upiak, maliek si upiak manari payuang
Ditimpo paneh baranti dulu diak, baok balinduang

-----

Kejadian yang sangat aneh terjadi beberapa hari yang lalu. Saya bermimpi tentang suatu pigura dengan gambar perempuan penari lengkap dengan kostum penari oranye kekuningan dan rumbai-rumbai di tutup kepalanya, dan payung berlipit-lipit berwarna putih, kuning, oranye dan merah. Gambar berpigura ini pernah dimiliki oleh orangtua saya, kurang lebih 36 tahun yang lalu (!) di rumah kami di Kampung Ba**. 

Saya ingat bahwa kaca pelapis gambar ini pecah pada suatu hari. Dan pecahan kaca itu kami ibaratkan sebagai es batu. Jaman itu, tidak banyak yang punya kulkas, dan es batu dalam potongan kecil-kecil adalah hal yang langka bagi kami. Karena itu, kami mengibaratkan (membayangkan) kaca-kaca tersebut sebagai es batu, sesuatu yang segar, yang langka, yang sifatnya "we wish". Umur saya sendiri sekitar 5 atau 6 tahun pada waktu itu.

Dalam mimpi saya itu, seluruh kejadian ini lengkap, bersama dengan musik pengiring, lagu Babendi-bendi ini (atau Berbendi-bendi, versi Bahasa Indonesia-nya). Musik ini masih terngiang di telinga saya saat saya terjaga.

Mimpi yang benar-benar aneh. Jangan-jangan ini yang dinamakan time lapse? De ja vu? Multiverse reality? Parallel reality? Atau ini hanya semata-mata gesekan neuron-neuron di otak saya yang tidak sinkron pada saat saya berada dalam fase mimpi?

*oldPost-2016