Little Mischief Guys Called Thought and Emotion

There are two things that us human, love the most: Thought and Emotion. 

We love them so much that we let them take control of our lives. We are so into them that not even in a second, we are willing to let them go. We are so full of them that we become them and they become us. We adore them so much that we keep on denying that they bring us pain. We’ve been blindfolded, yet we can’t help but to keep them around, waiting for them to untie the fold.  

Like us, Thought and Emotion have their own favorite: the illusion of time. They like dragging us to the past and the future.

“In the past,” said Thought. “Things were better.”

“In the future,” Emotion takes turn. “We will be happy.”

They are so seductive that it’s almost impossible not to trust their words. Unfortunately, it makes us detached from the present, the only time where we live, the only thing Thought and Emotion dislike. Sometimes, when we claim ourselves as being present, we still do judge and analyze. We bring over our two lovers to the only moment that should’ve been for us to experience. We frame the now in the eye of Thought and Emotion, ignoring the eyes of our own.

This might not be easy, as we’ve been under their control for most of our lifetimes, but this requires one thing only: be a watcher. Watch the now as it is: watch what Thought is doing to our heads, what Emotion is doing with our chests. Head and chest, both are part of our bodies, the most truthful character in this play.

We might be manipulated by Thought and Emotion, but Body will always safe the day. Body gives us physical signs of what Thought and Emotion have done to us. Once we become the watcher, we’ll listen when Body tells us the ache in our muscles, or the pain in our stomachs.

Listening to Body means, we withdraw ourselves from the illusions and bring ourselves back to the present. Thought and Emotion will still be there, but they’ll lose their control over us. We know that those little mischief guys are still inside, but now they’re under our watch. They might still come and go, but they’ll no longer inhabit the life that we own.

*this post was written after reading The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle

Collective Pessimism

Collective pessimism: an act of responding to a global issue in a pessimistic way which done by a large group of people.

Human are all pessimistic in some extent. This keeps us survive the harsh reality of life: choosing the right path over the wrong one, picking a true love over a toxic relationship, working a nine-to-five job instead of lying on our beds all day long.

In individual level, the results of being pessimistic come in a short-term period and experienced by only a singular person or a little group of people. The consequences are so visible to our eyes, touchable to our skins, that we could see and feel it coming in daily basis.

On top of that, this pessimism is so little compared to how we feel about our capabilities. We might feel doubtful if we will get the job we applied for, but we silently believe that we can send another thousands of applications to other thousands companies. We know we could do it despite of difficulties we might encounter through the journey. It is the confidence that makes the doubt less significant.

But, when it comes to a major challenge, things mentioned above are lost. The results are long-term, and experienced by almost the entire planet earth’s residence. So, we put zero optimism to ourselves, believing that there’s nothing important we could do compared to this big pessimism following this big problem.

We say things like, “the governments are taking care of that;” “environmentalists are working on this;” “someone’s doing something.” We are so optimistic that other people are tackling this issue, yet we are so pessimistic about ourselves taking roles in it, not knowing that six billions of people are thinking the same way, leaving only one billion who either too young, too poor, or too sick to think.

We say even worse expressions like, “it’s doomsday;” “we’re cursed;” “we’ll die anyway;” “we’re moving to Mars.”

In other words, collective pessimism is billions groups of people in line, waiting to be killed by the worsening problem they refuse to take responsibility of.

It seems like, we are so impatient to see the death, to witness the destruction of our one and only home, that we don’t even want to get our hands dirty with unnecessary little tiny efforts to save our own planet.

We don’t even bother doing the least we could do: 

being optimistic.

Popped-Up Thoughts

Few days after the death of one of my best friend's father, I asked to one of my other besties, "what if that happen to us?"

"I might've cried desperately if my parents die," she answered. 

I frowned, because that's not what I mean. 

What if the death happens to us? I corrected her in silence. 

Then, I realized that people just don't come up with the thought of their being dead as easily as I do. 

Like what I did, when I rode my motorbike on a fine afternoon few weeks ago. The clouds were still hanging after the heavy rain stopped and people were filling the roads with their vehicles. Waiting for the light to turn green, I counted along the down-counter which installed above the traffic light. 

I went across the junction when the counter changed color. So did the other riders and drivers. Including a car which came from the same direction, but a different road. 

I flinched.   

The thought popped up. 

It was me, crushed by the car which just passed me by. I could see myself lying on the wet asphalt by the right side of the road, gasping for air, waiting for death to come. A crowd gathered around my body and my broken motorbike. I couldn't hear anything nor smell the blood underneath my head. I see people's faces in a blur, they tried to lift my body from the ground, but I was numb.

I'm dying. I thought. A thought inside a thought. 

A second or two later, the picture disappeared.

I put myself back together right away and keep on riding. Just like what I always did. 

Another images of my deaths also appeared when I'm not even outside, not even when I'm in a risk of being crashed by any car. 

I might be at home, watching the rain that hadn't stopped for hours and my mind would be flown away by the cold weather, to the bottom of the huge embankment next to my house. 

I pictured myself drowning deeper, touching the sticky turf and filling my lung with water. I felt the freezing water on every inch of my body. It was light and calm. 

No one told me that dying could feel this good. I thought, as my body turned blue and floated. 

I saw my mother coming from work. She found my dead body and cried painfully. Her husband was there too, standing still in shock. 

A second or two later, the image vanished.

I put myself back together right away and watched the heavy drops turn into drizzles. 

Twenty Three

Two and three make a scary number when they’re together. Two by itself is adorable. It’s curvy yet straight and children draw a duck from it. Three by itself is funny. It’s half-circle, curly and teenagers draw boobs and butts from it.

But when Two and Three are side to side, they become a nightmare. Together, they have three gigantic mouths open facing to the same direction. Three seems like teeth of a revengeful monster trying to chew Two, and Two looks like a cursed swan which head reaching for an invisible prey. None of them are kind-hearted nor forgiving. All they want is to make the world as a bloody place full of intolerance and ignorance. Beside, no one draws anything with them together.   

I’m here though, with them as a companion for the next twelve months. I know Two. I’ve been with her during the past two years. But Three, I have no idea about this guy. I used to be with him a decade ago. I surely did make a good time with him, but I was with One too, and One was the best number ever! He was so humble and gentle. He was just my type.

I’m so nervous that I’ve been counting down the days since January. The thought of Two and Three eating me alive, chopping my head and body brutally, made me wish the time to stop, or my family to forget that I was born at all.

“Look ahead,” whispered Two. Her voice was attempting, manipulative. “The time will be stopped and you will be forgotten,” she said.

“It’s just around the corner. Hang in there,” growled Three whose vowel was as hard as metal.

I don’t know how, but I found them dancing gracefully in the center of a darkened room. Right, left, right, left. A piano was played, all in minor chords: mysterious yet sentimental. No one knows who did the play. A spotlight followed their strange steps, as if it agreed with their words.

Hang in there. I echoed and nodded.

It’s odd.

I was hypnotized.

I believed that everything will be all right. They will be all right and I will be too. We, together, will seize the upcoming year beautifully just as how they dance. Though it might seem strange and scary as how they look.  

Hang in there. I repeated.

Kasihan, Sarjana

Beberapa bulan yang lalu, ada seorang teman yang bercerita, tentang temannya yang langsung menikah setelah lulus, lalu menjadi seorang penjual nasi uduk.

"Sarjana lho, Kal. Jualan nasi, kan eman-eman. Buru-buru nikah sih." 

Aku bingung menanggapinya, jadi, aku hanya mengangkat alis dan ujung bibirku. 

Ibuku, pada suatu Minggu pagi, saat sedang belanja di toko busana muslim, bertemu dengan para alumni UIN Antasari yang bekerja di toko itu.  

"Nggak apa-apa kerja di sini. Di mana aja. Yang penting halal." Begitu kata ibu, saat para penjaga toko itu bilang bahwa mereka alumni UIN. 

Aku mengernyit dan membuang muka, menahan diri untuk tidak beradu argumen dengan ibuku sendiri di depan para alumni kampus tempatnya bekerja.

Belakangan, aku ditelepon oleh seorang teman yang frustrasi karena tak kunjung dapat pekerjaan. Ia terkejut saat tahu bahwa aku menganggur.

"Aku pikir orang yang cantik dan pintar itu gampang dapat kerjaan," katanya. 

Saat itulah aku merasa terusik. 

Kepalaku bilang, "ia sedang mengasihanimu, Kal. Kasihan, cantik dan pintar, tapi tidak dapat pekerjaan."

Lalu, kuingatkan diriku, bahwa aku pernah berpikir seperti itu dan sekarang pun, aku masih demikian, hanya saja, aku tidak mengatakannya secara gamblang seperti orang-orang itu berujar padaku, tentangku.

Tentu tidak adil mengasihani seseorang yang bahkan tidak mengasihani dirinya sendiri, orang-orang yang dalam hatinya tidak punya ruang untuk rasa kasihan dari orang lain, yang akhirnya, hanya menyebabkan ia keberatan beban dari menampung rasa kasihan itu.

Ini mengingatkanku pada seseorang di masa lalu yang maunya dicintai dan tidak mau dikasihani. Kata "kasihan" sudah jadi senista itu, sampai-sampai kita tidak mau dikasihani dan tidak mau memberi kasihan. Kata ini, "kasihan" sudah telanjur melebur dalam konotasi negatif. Tidak menyenangkan, tidak pantas, tidak seharusnya, sehingga aku memberimu kasihan, karena tidak-tidak itu.

Salah satu sumber ke-tidak-an itu adalah kebiasaan kita mengkontras-kontraskan hal-hal yang pada dasarnya, tidak bertentangan (tidak seperti gendut kurus, tinggi pendek, hitam putih). Rasanya, seperti ada tangan tak kasat mata yang mengatur mode default kita untuk punya pikiran yang senang mengontras-ngontraskan. Padahal, tangan tak kasat mata itu, ya, tangan-tangan kita sendiri. Salah satu contoh bahayanya adalah mengontraskan agama dengan kepribadian.

"Kasihan" seharusnya tidak membuat si penerima kasih sebagai orang yang makin nelangsa, pun dengan yang memberi kasih, seharusnya tidak membuatnya menjadi orang yang tinggi hati. "Kasihan" tidaklah lebih rendah maupun lebih tinggi dari cinta, karena pada keduanya, kita sama-sama memberi dan menerima (yang juga menjadi pemberian). "Kasihan" pada bayinya yang lemah, membuat ibu mencurahkan cintanya. Begitu pun sebaliknya. Ibu mencintai bayinya, maka ia mengasihani bayinya.

Tentang kata "kasihan" ini, yang entah bagaimana asal muasalnya telah terlanjur jadi kata yang menyedihan, tidak banyak yang bisa kita lakukan. Tapi, tentang kontras-mengontraskan berbagai hal: pendidikan dan pekerjaan; penampilan dan kemampuan; keyakinan dan sifat; keberpihakan politik dan antek aseng; seharusnya masih bisa kita usahakan untuk diminimalisir.

Sehingga, tidak ada lagi orang-orang bingung yang hanya bisa mengangkat alis dan ujung bibirnya saat perbincangan yang kontras-mengontraskan itu terjadi. 

Romantic Love in Little Women

It's been ages since I put down a book just to cover my face with a pillow and shout over romantic scenes between fictional characters.

It happened during the last a hundred pages of this book.

Beside the love to family and friends, this book has successfully drawn me into every emotion in conflicts between the sisters and their love interests.

Meg, the oldest, was the first to get married. When John proposed her, I was moved by his saying, that love is something one can learn about instead of a thing that one could only accidentally fall into.

"I'll wait, and in the meantime, you could be learning to like me. Would it be a very hard lesson, dear?"
"Not if I chose to learn it, but.."
"Please choose to learn, Meg. I love to teach, and this is easier than German," broke in John, getting possession of the other hand, so that she had no way of hiding her face as he bent to look into it.   

Jo, the second oldest, was proposed by her best friend, Laurie. Though his confession is an immature one, I can truly sympathize for his longing for Jo's love and how his poor heart was broken into pieces when Jo, very maturely, told him that she could only love him as a friend.

".. I only loved you all the more, and I worked hard to please you, and I gave up billiards and everything you didn't like, and waited and never complained, for I hoped you'd love me, though I'm not half good enough.. (page 558)."

"I shall always be fond of you, very fond indeed, as a friend, but I'll never marry you, and the sooner you believe it the better for both of us--so now! (page 563)"

By the very end of the chapter, Jo had become even more of a lady who speaks so wisely and  respectfully, that when her lover asked her to wait for the right time for them to marry, she uttered,

"Yes, I know I can, for we love one another, and that makes all the rest easy to bear. I have my duty, also, and my work. I couldn't enjoy myself if I neglected them even for you, so there's no need of hurry of impatience (page 737)."

It is so refreshing to find a work of fiction which young girls as  the main characters are evolving into better people by their own struggles, learning to embrace their flaws and cherish their self-love, before stumbling upon love to their lovers.

As a reader, it is important for me to connect their stories with mine. Though I don't know much about this type of love, I did experience it a few times. They were shallow yet exciting. Like the one in forth grade, the one in tenth grade, the one in first years of college and the one in final years of college.

I no longer believe in shallow and exciting stuffs, for they might vanish in a blink of an eye. Like what this book has told me, that it takes time, learning, patience and pain as an exchange for something as good as love. 

Something About Plastic Bags in Banjarmasin

It's been almost three years, since the local government of my hometown, Banjarmasin, banned the use of plastic bags in modern shopping places all over the city. So, it has become a habit for my mom to bring her own reusable bag everywhere.

But it doesn't necessarily mean that she becomes an anti-plastic-bags overnight, like I do. She still shops with a lot of plastic bags in traditional markets and everywhere outside of the air-conditioned shopping centers. 

I used to think that the regulation doesn't do anything much but merely a slight decrease of plastic bags consumption. But now, that I've lived in two different cities (Banjarmasin and Semarang) as an extreme anti-plastic, I know that the rule has done something way more than that.

It teaches the people that plastics are harming the environment, plus, giving a sample behavior to that new lesson, by banning the plastic bags. It may change people's behavior, though it's just in a very limited condition, but it's not the ultimate goal. The educational purpose is.  

The difference I noticed from both cities, which the other (Semarang) doesn't have this regulation, is that, people in Semarang don't even aware of the 'why' of my explicit behavior: refusing the plastic bags. A pecel seller would say: "sudah banyak plastik ya di rumah;" as an ayam geprek seller say, "hemat ya, Mbak;" or a nasi uduk seller say, "aduh, ini panas, Mbak;" and a chocolate drink seller say, "ndak tumpah, Mbak?" and the list goes on.

My fast conclusion is, those kind of responses are said only by people whose minds never been told that plastics harm the environment. They lost the most basic ingredient to changing a behavior: education, which become something that Banjarmasin people has been receiving since 2016.  

So, when I'm home, people would not say things like Semarang people do. Instead, they say almost similar words to "cinta lingkungan lah;" or "andak di tas kah?" when I opened my backpack; or just simply not saying a word and put the stuff I purchase without packaging.

I'm mostly pissed off by Semarang sellers because of their false assumptions, but here at home, I could say that I'm proud of what I'm doing, because people know the real 'why' behind my action. 

As plastics are that main pollutant to our rivers here in Banjarmasin and rivers play vital roles in our lives, I think, more people should be, at least, know that plastics are harming our rivers, though we don't directly dump them on streams, but still, we never know where the plastics reach their ends.

But as for now, I can't be more thankful to our local government for setting a stepping stone for this city to be less wasteful. 

Sincerely, 

A proud Banjarish