Catatan Random Di Malam Hari

It is because the world is so full of suffering,
that your happiness is a gift.
It is because the world is so full of poverty,
that your wealth is a gift.
It is becuase the world is so unfriendly,
that your smile is a gift.
It is because the world is so full of war,
taht your peace of mind is a gift.
It is because the world is in such despair,
that your hope and optimism is a gift.
It is because the world is so afraid,
that your love is a gift.

Vision Statement by Robert Holden

Mau tidak mau saya jadi ingat tulisan ini ketika menonton sebuah film yang selalu membuat air mata saya jatuh, walaupun terhitung sudah tiga kali saya menonton film itu: Hotel Rwanda.

Film yang bercerita tentang perang antarsuku di negeri kecil di Afrika tersebut memberi cukup alasan bagi saya untuk bersyukur dengan kehidupan saya yang senantiasa saya keluhkan. Menyedihkan, bahwa kadang-kadang kita harus melihat orang lain menderita terlebih dahulu untuk menyadari betapa beruntungnya nasib kita. Tapi mungkin memang begitulah salah satu cara untuk bersyukur.

Saya menonton Hotel Rwanda ketika SMA, saya lupa kelas berapa. Lewat DVD bajakan (tolong jangan dicontoh). Dan alasan saya menonton ulang lagi film itu adalah mata kuliah Isu-isu Kontemporer Psikologi Klinis. Ceritanya, film ini akan diputar di kelas dan mahasiswa akan mendiskusikan isu-isu psikologis terkait perang antarsuku. Dan saya diminta oleh Pak Dosen untuk bertanggungjawab menyediakan film itu. Jadi, ya, setelah mendapatkan film-nya, saya tonton lagi film itu. Dan saya menangis tanpa suara menontonnya. Saya kira, keesokan harinya, ketika saya, teman-teman, dan dosen menonton film itu di kelas, saya sudah tidak dapat menangis karena bosan. Tapi ternyata tidak. Saya gagal menahan keinginan untuk tidak menangis. Seorang teman perempuan juga mengalami hal serupa dengan saya. Untunglah kelas gelap sehingga tidak terlalu kelihatan kalau mata dan hidung saya memerah seperti tomat.

Saya tidak akan menceritakan selengkapnya isi film itu di sini. Sekedar ingin mengungkapkan perasaan yang campur aduk ketika menontonnya. Anak-anak dan wanita dibunuh. Orang-orang tak bersalah, yang tidak tahu apa-apa, menjadi korban. Perang itu membuat sekitar sejuta orang terbunuh, hanya karena identitas suku mereka. Dan dunia menolak melihatnya. Dunia menolak membantu dan berpura-pura tidak terjadi pembunuhan massal di sana.

Tinggal di Indonesia tentu saja sudah membuat kita akrab dengan berita-berita perang antarsuku. Di tempat kelahiran saya sendiri, Kalimantan Barat, seperti itu. Saya ingat ketika melihat dua orang berbeda suku bertengkar di depan pagar rumah saya, salah satunya menghunus senjata tajam. Saya cuma bisa bengong di depan pintu, tidak tahu apa yang harus dilakukan, bahkan masih bengong ketika ibu saya menarik saya ke dalam rumah dengan ketakutan, dan kami mengintip pertikaian kecil-yang untungnya berhasil didamaikan- itu melalui jendela.

Namun saya bukanlah korban. Saya tidak kehilangan rumah dan anggota keluarga. Saya tidak harus mengungsi. Saya tidak terluka. Dan saya membayangkan, ketika menonton film itu, bagaimana jika saya menjadi korban. Mungkin saya tidak akan kuliah sekarang. Mungkin, saya bahkan sudah kembali menjadi tanah. Dan untuk itu, saya merasa seperti....wow.

Ya. Kadang-kadang kita harus bersyukur bukan karena sesuatu terjadi, tetapi karena sesuatu tidak terjadi. Kadang-kadang kita harus merasa bahagia bukan karena tertimpa anugerah, tetapi karena tidak tertimpa musibah. Kadang-kadang kita harus merasa diberkati bukan karena mendapat sesuatu, tetapi karena tidak kehilangan sesuatu.

The Lost Things

I've been telling myself often about how sloppy I am in keeping things. One of the victims (victims: things I've lost in my own house, in my own room, just because I forget where I kept it) is, unfortunately, a watch that my boyfriend gave me in my 20th birthday. The first reaction when I realize that I didn't realize where I kept that unique watch is: PANIC (but not at the disco). I was feeling so bad to tell my boyfriend that I couldn't find my watch, or rather, his watch (because it's a couple watch -a set of pink and blue watch- and at that time I had his watch, the blue one, and he had the other). I know that my IQ cannot be categorized as superior but when I lost the watch I was sure that my IQ is not even normal. I was idiot!

The watch is just one of the victims. There are still many things lost; Mid-term card, lecture materials, pens, pencils, spidols, whatever. They simply just like swallowed into a blackhole. So...where did they go? Where are the "souls" of the lost things go? Sometimes I'm puzzled by the questions of "If they were just unseen, covered by dust under my bed or anywhere, they should have been found, uh? Because nobody took them, they were still there, I just couldn't find them. But how if they were really gone? Turned into air? Vaporized? With no traces."

It's just little things. Then, when I'm typing this post, I'm thinking about an airplane. Remember the news about an airplane that gone and never found? I'm thinking about that. I'm thinking about my stuffs that gone and never found. Even a big thing like an airplane can be lost without traces.  The lost things is just one of mysteries that sometimes left undone, unresolved.

Ah, humans. This is the proof about how your capacity is limited. How can you claimed to answer all of the questions of science, when you can't even find your lost stuffs under your bed, inside your cupboard?

Only God knows where they are.

Peace

There are moments when I am imagining of a place, a quiet place, far away from the chaos of the world. A place where I can live peacefully. A place where everything is always right, or, a place where there is no right or wrong. A green, small wooden tree house under the shady leaves, with the sun shines above and the birds sing happily. Drink the water of the falls, swim in the river (just assume that I can swim :p), and running over the hills.

Such a naive, I am, uh?

The worst thing of the best dream is that you know that it might never be a reality. The gap is just so high that you finally realize where you are and start thinking about everything that seems more pathetic for you. Then you open your eyes, facing the wall of your room, and back to the duties you have left to take just a few-minute-trip to the Heaven inside your head, which doesn't even exist.

Just my imagination. A massive cloud of imagination. But it's not gonna die. I'll find it someday. Maybe in the different shape. Peace is not only found in a quiet place. It's everywhere. In the crowded city, in the river banks, in...everywhere. Everywhere we are. Because peace is exist in ourselves, I guess. It's about seeing the green, small wooden tree house under the shady leaves in everywhere we are. It's about finding a tiny white spot in a black darkness. A minor miracle in ordinary life events.