State of Grace

How does it feel to be in the calm? I've been wondering lately about it. It's not something new, it's just something I'm not used to, for quite sometimes. There's a deja vu feeling about it, a distant memory of being in a similar situation as I previously ever had been yet I couldn't as much as place where and when. All I can indicate is a fleet of nostalgia, like a second chance to reliving a certain moment I almost forget ever happened once. And when it's over, there's bits of peculiarity that I might have traveled the time, without the consciousness of ever changing time and scenery.

I don't know about the right or wrong in the case of adulting: should I flow down the stream or should I pick up the battle I've left halfway a year ago. Or, am I supposed to to both, finding the so called balance without pushing myself tiptoeing the fine line of ambition and greed. I don't think it will ever be right or wrong, as much as there's 50 shades blue during sunset and couple layers of reasons to do or not to do. But when it calms, they almost loose their urgency to place me on one side. Instead, I'm everywhere, in the presence of a new day and somewhere along my early years as child, or teenage or anything in between. Some night I cry out of estrange loneliness, some morning I wake up with a smile of gratitude. When I look around through the day, I always find a corner where I can belong, more rather than less, sometimes I can even stay longer than I expect.

I don't know if it's calmness, or an absence of distortion, or the best bet will be, growth. If I can take something out of this unknown state, it will be the graceful quality of peace inside my heart.

What ever will be, will be.

Eclipse in Gemini

Hey, it's been 4 months! I haven't writing here much, that is obvious. I don't journal too, either manually or digitally. What I did most of the time was writing short stories and poetries. At first it felt kinda out of the norm not to blog or journal at all, cause that's one way for me tracking my growth, momentos, emotions. I've been wondering the last 4 months why I didn't touch them at all, I couldn't, even after I forced myself to. Even my birthday didn't move myself to do them despite doing it every year as a celebratory self reflection. My hands wouldn't move, my head wouldn't talk, it was a total paralyze.

Now I'm sitting here trying to recall what's been going on through April and May. Those months has gone into blurry images and scarp of conversations. I remember having a packed schedule on April. There's this big project we've been preparing since December last year. Then I met someone interesting during that project, someone I wish had the same amount of interest for me. It was the peak of rainy season in this country, I spent a lot of time got caught in big pour and thought of him. How he casually told me his coffee order when I had turn to run errand. Him and hers, they love their coffee the same. What a shame. For me, at least. I wrote a lot of poetries about it, and a short story too. I guess, heart break, if you can call it that, is indeed a food for writer. It's rare to have a clear sky that month, literaly and figuratively. There's always a chunk of grey cloud hanging low, whispering weighted air and uncertainty. I couldn't do much laundry, but if I could, they smelt damp almost every single time. There's this sticky and heavy atmosphere everywhere I went. Reading Franz Kafka didn't help much.

May was a salvation. I had a long holiday which I spent at home due to the everlasting pandemic state in this country. I tried my best not to get angry about it, since I've been dreaming a road trip to the west, probably driving a lil further to Bandung and surprising an old dear friend. I tried my best not to get mad about people who cheated their way to travel during pandemic on new year holiday and in result, increasing the number of daily new cases while I've been keeping myself and my sanity in the city. I was deeply disappointed, I didn't know how to describe it. The best I could think of was a drought. That's how it felt after full year without traveling. Then the unexpected happened. I said yes to every coffee invitation from friends, people who actually reaching out to me during my sabatical leave from Instagram. And lord, salvation it was. I didn't expect to have conversations that were so enlighting. As if God told me wisdom himself, through the experience of my friends. I was sitting there listening to their stories and all I could think of was grateful, to be there with them and got inspired and motivated and answered. It gave me a new sensation of satisfaction, similar to what traveling makes me feel. The rest of the holiday was spent for spring cleaning, an annual event since I couldn't remember when. I also did a little furniture shopping which was really fun. By the end of the holiday, I'm pretty much feel calm and peaceful. I feel fine, not in the way that I tolerate most part of reality, but more in the way that I understand why things happen and decide to live with them. Plus I have a brand spanking new bookshelf which I'm super in love with.

By June, I found it steadier to stand on my ground. I mean, the last 18 months had been a handful of cascade ocean wave blues. It felt like I lost my mind, my identity, my purpose. But for once, I felt the optimism of begin again. Like, there's still a possibility of good thing happen to me in the future, if I put the effort and the time and my heart. One thing stands out amongst the other during that period. My siblings and I have grown closer emotionally, somehow finding a way to each others' company. It's not a perfect relationship, but it is a supportive one. For once we do see each other as family, not a competitor for affection, not a stranger in a boarding house. We spend a lot of time together while grilling meat and having coke. They are nursing their wound, so am I. Every friction is us trying to shape our edges so we won't hurt each other, intentionally. It becomes quite bearable to stay at home now. It's really nice and relieving.

Lately, there's been a lot of conversation happens in my head. It's out of nowhere, probably the product of a day dreaming or a movie I watch before bed. That's how most of my short stories start, out of scarp of fictional conversation upon two person. I find it enjoyable to try developing the dialogue, revealing the character of the people involve by the way they talk and respond to a question. I love putting layers, sometimes too much, on statements, illustrating the conflict and their train of thought. I love when it simple on the surface but complicated underneath, which in my opinion, are how human is. My biggest inspiration that month was this book called Song of Achilles. The way the story flows, carrying me far out to the ocean of passionate bond and promising youthfulness. And the conversation, I can imagine the distinct tone when each character speaks, adding dimention to the whole construction of storyline. Oh, how I want to be loved the way Achilles do to Patroclus. The book is easily on Pride and Prejudice level for me.

As you can see, I've been indulging myself with what life offers on daily basis. I don't really plan far ahead of time now. For now I just want to be: be present, be here, be now. I still have some blues every couple days and scary thought comes back every now and then. I feel fine, cause I understand it will keep happening throughout my life and I have the confidence to be fine with them in my life, the confidence to call my strenght and courage everytime I need them. I will never loose what originally comes from within, as long as I have faith. And if I ever stray from my path again, it will be an adventure, not a failure.

I guess it's a good thing to take my time off of blogging and journaling. That way, I can get out of my own head and go outside, talking to people, getting nervous doing things for the first time, being sad for someone else. I can forget who I am for a while, shedding the excess of emotions and opinions and judgements I drew on the painting I worked on. It's starting to feel liberating being inside my shell, even though I don't know whether to stay or venture to another form in the future. I'm not gonna think about it now. I just want to be, for now.

Daringly Quite

So I've been gone from Instagram for almost a year. For the last 9 months I forced myself to stay quite, to keep most of the things for myself and my closest family. At first I thought of going for only a month or two, but then I found myself keep pushing it back. Here I am 9 months later, feeling like I finally leave a party I don't want to be part anymore.

The past month has been the most interesting for me. Several friends I know from Instagram chat me on whatsapp. They said they noticed I've been gone for a while. Some were genuinely concern, they thought something unfortunate happened. Some were more casual and curious. Some others were too shy to contact me directly and prefer to asked around. At that point, I find it really amusing. For me, never before people noticed my existance. In my mind, I'm that kind of person you will just pass by the street without turning your head twice. I'm not someone who leaves great impression on the first meet. By the time the night ends, you might have forgotten my name and my face. So it is amusing for me, knowing that I'm probably not the person I thought I was. Or I'm probably no longer that person I thought I was. I changed. I left impression. They remember my name.

Since going under the radar for the last 9 months, I get so comfortable not being seen by people. Not to mention that wearing mask is the new normal, so you will see my face even less. It feels truly liberating for me. Probably it is caused by my mental image of being judged by my appearance, the level of success, the people I'm friends with, they grew less too. I feel like experiencing the early 2000 again, when your life was yours to own, not the gram. You know, all of those thought were the product of my own mind. But I can't deny the various lifestyles I had for the last 10 years shaped most of them: those lifestyle choices were made mostly to fit in with people I wanted to please.

I think I'm not going back anytime soon to Instagram. It grows too crowded for me. But today I have a thought that persistently provoke my nerve. Instagram has been a place for us to meet and connect with others from around the world. If I'm leaving, does that mean I'm going to live my life lonely? Will I miss all of the fun stuffs that we know only happen in there? Will I be old fashion? Can I go back there and keep my state of mind? Will I get tempted to just follow the crowd? If I'm no longer putting myself out there, will they forget me?

I really like how life goes now. It's a small pond which I've been super selective with. I like that I know every single one and I don't have to worry about their judgement, it's out in the open. However, I do wonder how are things beyond my own garden, thou stepping out always makes me feel like being eaten alive in the wild.

My Claim

 I was scrolling through green sage wall pictures when it hit me, "how much is the price of freedom?"

Maybe it's the soothing color, or hundred pictures of beautifully sunlight rooms I'd seen. There's an idea of how the morning rolled up in those rooms, the smell of coffee that tickled your nose, and all the spaces you had, with only your mark all over it.

Your very own marks.

How much money do I have to earn to buy the pretty house? How far the distance I have to run to reach it? How many time do I have to spend thinking about it? How long do I have to hold on to the thread I hang my live with?

When I thought about it again, I guessed I got it all wrong. I didn't really want a pretty house with green sage sunlight room. What I wanted was the feeling it gave me: a freedom to go by my rules, marking every inch of it with my finger prints, making it my own. My very own.

It doesn't matter whether it will be green sage or dusty pink or baby blue. As long as my name is written all over it. My very own.

Traveling Through

I'm in Planet Blue. This place is no strangeland for me, yet I always fail to recognize its scene. For me, it's always feelings first: when you've done rotating or taking a turn, you are a little bit empty, there's nothing particular in your head but buzzing of high speed train of thoughts, flashing sunlight or muted grey sky, pouring of emotions, coming one after another, never stay, never settle.

Yes, it's unsettling, just like the moment you know something grows wrong ahead of you, just like the moment you feel the ground cracks underneath you, just like the moment you realize it takes another inch to reach the stars above your head. You know it's been written down. You're going down next.

So I arrrived at Planet Blue. Someone sent me a one way ticket. When I opened my eyes, the day was new but the air suffocated my chest. I tried to draw a map, finding the destination under my name. When I couldn't find it, I wondered if I actually unwanted here. This place was not where I laid my head at night, now I know for sure. I wanted to leave, but I lost the ability to pull my tricks under my sleeves.

I have to remember again. I have to trace the trail of memory before waking up here. I have to relive it one by one, find myself some strings I could hold on too. I have to be patience, cause looking back is not always easy for the soul and the neck. It's been a pack of full moon, it might be another dozen. I learn to be compassionate toward the person who is loosing her way and the identity she was once.

It might be another dozen.

But as long as I'm fully aware of the change of the day, I can still make my way wherever home will be.

A Holiday

I had a 4 days off for new year holiday and it felt goddam good.

That 4 days gave me spaces to breath, like really breath without anticipation of something waiting for me around the corner. It felt different from the previous holidays, when I took 10 days off to travel, discovering the unknown, then crying myself on the way back home, scared to be chained to responsibilities that was shoved my way, resposibilities ride my mental and drained my blood. Resposibilities I kept wonder, did those belong to me in the first place? Or I voluntarily claimed them to be mine?

Hmm, holiday looked more like a prison break before. Time to escape from the daily routine I talked myself to live in, mostly because it's out of my comfort zone. I thought, this what grew up meant, waking up to the fear of the unknown, fighting for a chance to prove myself's worth. Sometimes it's so uncomfortable, my hands turned cold and trembled, my mind went blank, what I knew was trying to hold my breath as long as possible, until I felt like fainting from dizziness. The next time it happened again, I would push myself to hold it longer and longer, until I lost the cue to be back inhaling the air. No wonder I cried at the end of the holiday. It meant going back to the version of life I thought I had to go through to become someone I aspired to be. And that version of life was something encouraged, by those pinterest quotes, by those unicorn leaders, by the whispering neighbours, by my partners, by me, against my better judgement that there's ways to achieve that without sacrificing my sanity and sleeping hours. It's hard.

That 4 days gave me opportunity to be myself, to listen to what I wanted and needed. I didn't feel the need to put my phone deep in the closet, a way to avoid phone calls or texts or emails. I didn't feel the need to runaway to an isolated place, somewhere out of reception, somewhere less crowded with humans. I didn't need a celebration, toasting my freedom of should haves and must bes. I was staying inside at home, waking up slow, grabbing a book and spending the whole morning flipping till the very last page. Digging food out of the fridge, having sandwich with a little bit of everything I found while enjoying the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I was lying still, staring to the sky, thinking how good it was to remember the sensation of air filling my lung, circulating blood to my brain, delivering warmth to the tip of my fingers. I didn't plan anything, except spontanious run to the grocery or a visit to the book store. I didn't obligage myself to be somewehere or with someone in a designed time. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't escaping anything. I was my own captain, embracing my guts and will. It felt good to return the faith to my own belief, letting myself took a chance on, well, myself.

I feel great. I feel like stepping forward. I feel like leaving 2019 and 2020 in the past, two chapters that extraordinarily complicated and exhausting and also precious. Two chapters that make me who Iam when I'm writing this.

What a holiday :)