No posting in February

So..here I am. After all that happened in February, I did not write anything. I almost forget that I have this blog indeed. Trouble with sleeping, heavy workload, and so many distractions hampered me from writing and reflecting. Less reflecting. That is a sign of no good things. Reflecting and praying come in a package. Secluding one's self out of this material world and move into immaterial world. Less reflecting, less writing, less praying. That is exactly what I did in February. Which explains why I visited this blog no more in February.

It's December again

The last month of the year
Gloomy days
Rainy days
Advent period
In waiting

Yesterday was Mom's 3 months passing away
I just can't believe it
Time passes by so fast
Feels like she's still away on a very long trip
And never given us any news
About how is it up there

I'll write again, be back soon

12.12.13

Today is 12.12.13. Yesterday was 11.12.13. A triplet that would not happen again this century.

I forgot what I was about to say, so I thought I'd just posted this now, over a month after.

Unspeakable

It's not sadness, nor grief nor sorrow. It was something else. A feeling of..like there's a hole that you know will stay that way forever, because nothing can replace what supposedly be there. I don't know. The first Christmas without all parents. It's not loneliness either. It's a feeling. A sort of unidentified feeling. People say that words, written words are very limiting. Words can't say what we feel completely. Something we think, we feel, it's there, but it's unspeakable. People say music speaks thousand words and I can relate to that saying. I know that when I hear a composition, I can relate myself, relate my soul, emerge my soul in that composition, and be somewhere else, not in the here or in the now. Like the composition talks, but only to my inner self, speaks to my mind, and I found not enough words to describe. Beauty, not that, it's more than that. Amazing, awesome, not those either. It's deeper. It's just..unspeakable. And I see no points of attempting to type it down. You see, I'm failed here. I give up. 

The passing away of a great man

One of the greatest men who lived in this century has just passed away. Nelson Mandela, left the world in the end of 2013. A man who sacrificed 27 years of his lifetime to other people who might not have known him, for the crowd who were under apartheid regime. Everyone seems to applaud and tribute him now. I, for one, truly admire his resistance, his forgiveness, the principles of him: love and forgive, and non-violence. Truly great man in history. We shall never forget this for his life is written in world's history for good.

I suddenly see the resemblance between him and my Lord, Jesus Christ. Love. Brave. Forgiveness. Hate to see injustice. Sacrifice. Reconciliation with one's enemy.

I must say, I have a long way to go. To imitate these great people.

Mandela admired Jesus Christ himself, as he once said:

Our Messiah, who came to us in the form of a mortal man, but who by his suffering and crucifixion attained immortality.

Our Messiah, born like an outcast in a stable, and executed like criminal on the cross.

Our Messiah, whose life bears testimony to the truth that there is no shame in poverty: Those who should be ashamed are they who impoverish others.

Whose life testifies to the truth that there is no shame in being persecuted: Those who should be ashamed are they who persecute others.

Whose life proclaims the truth that there is no shame in being conquered: Those who should be ashamed are they who conquer others.

Whose life testifies to the truth that there is no shame in being dispossessed: Those who should be ashamed are they who dispossess others.

Whose life testifies to the truth that there is no shame in being oppressed: Those who should be ashamed are they who oppress others.” (Mandela 1994). 

And said that the resurrected Messiah:

who without arms,

without soldiers,

without police and covert special forces,

without hit squads or bands of vigilantes,

overcame the mightiest state during his time.

This great festival of rejoicing marks the victory of the forces of life over death, of hope over despair.

We pray with you for the blessings of peace! We pray with you for the blessings of love! We pray with you for the blessings of freedom!” (Mandela 1992; see also Mandela 2003, 332).

Never been into Novembers

November afternoon in Stappleton Park, from ArtRenewal.org

I don't know why
The love life of mine
Have never reached Novembers
Never
It's funny, isn't it?
Like a neat and tidy pattern:
All of them crashed, boomed, banged
in Octobers

And this is one November again in my life
A year after another
I keep seeing
and I don't know why:
love have never survived Octobers

They let me encounter end of years by myself
So maybe that I can reflect
and meditate
and think a lot
all by myself

because love,
they all ended up in Octobers

Childhood days where art thou?

Our memories are our enemies. We love them but we hate them. Every time we generate the old memories in our mind, they also generate the bittersweet feelings that have strong effects to us that we are not able to control. The memories that can sweep away the present feelings. They can overcome, flooded and stab like a knife. Bluntly, without mercy. The presence can be swept away suddenly when they bring you to the past occasions, or people, or smell, or events, or sounds, or looks, or shapes, or feelings. Consciousness and awareness of the past, maybe that's what distinguish us from animals, or plants, or organisms. We might be God's ultimate creation. But we bear the consequences much harder than other creations too as the consequence. And it is not always easy to be having a brain aka mind that keeps remembering and that is capable to retrieve the old memories and attack our weaknesses by doing it.

These are some sort of glimpses of memories from childhood that can overwhelm me at times:

• Small rock cave that we found near the vacant land, that we decorated with small porcelain statue of Mother Mary and plastic pines we took from our plastic green Christmas tree
• Small rock cave we found where a female dog gave birth and bit one of us
• Wild flowers bloomed, the dark blue trumpet with yellow middle petals
• The smell of dry soil after the first rain
• The smell of wild herbs in the morning
• The feeling of looking at the miniature model of a grass hut that I made at the left hand side of our house yard
• The sound of Christmas songs from our house
• The smell of baked cakes and cookies weeks before Christmas
• The time Mom and Dad sat with us at the dining table and everyone told stories
• Dawn time march on Easter Day
• The rain in November and December
• The flowing clean creek at the back of our old house..and the sound of it
• The angry flowing creek during the rainy season
• The sound of ocean's wave during stormy days
• The totally dark skies during rainy season
• Shallot's green and white shoots in damp soils
• Starfruit flowers
• My house models from card boards 

I miss the days. 
I miss those old childhood days. 
When the world is not hostile to you. 
When life is not complicated. 
When it's you and the big world and the mysteries around are waiting to be explored. 
When the parents are all around for you