2014: Feeling the Ground Beneath My Feet

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To be honest, I didn’t know what struck me last year. Places like dreams are all over my memories. Things happens so fast, it all feels like some kind of explosions, over and over again. Moments, people and experiences all somehow cramp up until I lost for words. It is one of those moments, where you feel at lost even as a writer for no words seems audible even for your own sake. I give it time to digest it, to let things seep in. I closed my laptop for some time, even unplugged the internet connection for time to time and in the end finding myself scribbling endlessly in a notebook trying to get some sense back to myself. I know for myself that I for once need to slow down. To stop even and I need too.

The last few days, stranded under the volcanic ash reaching as far as 300 kilometers from where it spew, I picked up some novels which I bought in Kathmandu last September and read on. And thanks to Amitav Ghosh and some Rilke poems found within, I’m tracing this blog back as an attempt to write things down again. Somehow I gain my belief that in the end literature never fails you in a journey, your journey anywhere. It is always a habit to me to have a book in hand wherever I’m going somewhere. It is in the end the best company.

As someone who always constantly moving around among places, I’m starting to accept that life has been offering me that. That movement is part of my energy within, it is part of something that fuel my life. Even with my son’s around, I can’t denied that pulse is still in constant calling. My journey last year has teach me so many things and one thing is to accept my nomadic nature. The title of this blog describe me no less.

Although I’m not too sure whether I could tell all or I would tell less, for that I cannot answer. But I do want to begin with this reminder of Rilke found in Ghosh:

‘ Look, we don’t love like flowers

with only one season behind us, when we love,

a sap older than memory rises in our arms. O girl,

it’s like this: inside us we haven’t loved just some oneĀ 

in the future, but a fermenting tribe; not just oneĀ 

child, but fathers, cradled inside us like ruins

of mountains, the dry riverbed

of former mothers, yes, and all that

soundless landscape under its clouded

or clear destiny – girl, all this came before you’

For all that happened, I miss my days in the Himalaya.

If Tomorrow We Disappear

564329_10150669284377043_1967720761_nIf tomorrow we disappear, I want to remember life as it is. As a cycle of life.

2012 has been a year of calling. And now I recall.

P1040227Of remembering my first step arriving in Dharamsala, the first snow that fall in my face and saying to myself that it is not a dream.

IMG-3815Of remembering the sea and remembering the mountain.

P1060347Of remembering the many sunrise and many sunset all over the places.
IMG_6026Of remembering the feel of home and the feel of going away.

IMG_6474Of remembering the good times and the bad ones.

IMG_6911Of remembering the death and be among the living.

IMG_5304
Of remembering to let go of your hate to feel loved.

IMG_5379Of remembering to share to feel rich.

IMG01216-20120402-1727Of remembering to throw all your emotional baggage in the exact bin.

P1040372P1040344Of remembering what is important and who really matters.

P1000564Of remembering in order to reconstruct you have to deconstruct and it’s a pain, and all of it goes away in the end.

mpOf remembering that the past help you to move on to the future and to be in the present.
P1010038Of remembering your own darkness and to make it your best friend in peace.

_MG_0014That going outside is merely to go deep inside yourself.

P1060212And in the end remember your balance.

_MG_0253That in the end, beauty stays. No matter what.

The last two months, after my trips from Rembang, I fall sick. I stop everything. Turn out I also need for my wisdom teeth to be pull out. Turn out also wisdom did not left me although it prolong my sickness. Sickness also is not always physical.

I’ve been sick, tired and overworked. I’ve been broken from time to time. But I have learn that I could heal myself. That the hardest thing when you feel dark is to wake up to the light. And that the undying light itself is within yourself. I learn that my parents name me, Dian, not for nothing. It mean to be the candle that never died.

And that every lesson are trying to teach you the same thing until you learn. That by learning to listen and see the universe, you realized how things are connected. Now and again. You learn and grow. And even, if tomorrow we disappear, I choose to wake up to the light.
525467_10150760778032043_1418206860_n

Sam: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it’s worth fighting for.

The Lord of the Rings – J.R. Tolkiens

Photo caption:

[1] 2012 – My first sunrise in Ternate, turn out that Sultan Tidore just passed away and the coffin come out right under my seat. Photo courtesy of Labodalih Sembiring.

[2] 2012 – Me in my Kashmiri slippers while drying my boots after a snow fall the night before, at Ladies Venture, Mcleod Ganj – Dharamsala

[3] 2005 – My long time converse sneakers, on a ferry boat trip from Merak to Bakauheuni, on the way to Lampung, it was my family last trip together before my mother got sick

[4] 2012 – Sunset in Sale, Rembang among the teak forest

[5] 2006 – My mother on her 60th birthday, two months before she died, we were from the hospital from her last chemotherapy and ate lunch in her most favorite restaurant of her lifetime, Trio Restaurant, Cikini, Jakarta

[6] 2006 – Farabi’s farewell dinner to Netherland and sleepover, minutes before my flight to Jakarta when both of my parents were critical in the hospital

[7] 2006 – My father with my brother, reading a birthday card from me, my father first birthday without my mother

[8] 2012 – Me and my son, Asabhumy, at our house in Jogjakarta

[9] 2012 – The AMAN Media team going home from Dodola Island, Morotai

[10] 2012 – Me in North Java Sea, Lasem coast

[11] 2012 – The books from New Delhi and my son, Asabhumy. My soul mates and best friends in Sangam Restaurant on Losar 2012, Labodalih Sembiring and Abmi Handayani, photo taken by Jean Pascal Elbaz

[12] 2010 – Finishing my tatto series of Om Mane Padme Hum, with Munir Toxic Tatto, Jogjakarta, photo taken by Megan Ryan

[13] 1965 – My father at 24 and my mother at 19, Buitenzorg, the photo taken by my father’s best friend who become a photographer later on (I forgot his name). It was the year when they started going out, it is also the year when darkness swept Indonesian contemporary lives.

[14] 2005 – Buddha in Borobudur Temple

[15] 2012 – Me in my journey from Ternate to Sofifi, Mount Gamalama at my back. Photo courtesy by Labodalih Sembiring

[16] 2012 – My son at the back of Inna’s house, Nitiprayan – Jogjakarta

[17] 2012 – My hot pink nails and a small white butterfly in Tobelo, in the middle of AMAN Congress. Photo courtesy by Labodalih Sembiring.

[18] 2012 – Me doing a warrior yoga pose at the dock of Dodola Island, Morotai. Photo courtesy by Labodalih Sembiring.