a gift from God

Her name means "gift from God" - and she truly is. This morning I woke up early again, somewhat perplexed by this new sleeping cycle I seem to be on (5 hours max). Reading through the status updates of various friends and family members, I came upon my niece's blog and read it in awe of this young woman who has an immense creativity I am only discovering now. It is because of her that I am starting to write in this blog again, inspired by her sharing what she is doing while studying fashion at a university that is pushing her creativity to grow and bloom.

It seems like a lifetime since I last posted something on this blog. Much has happened, and over the months I have accumulated book after book on creativity and releasing one's creativity within. Many of those books have remained unopened, some have had a few pages read only to be set aside in a 'special box' for "later." My niece has reminded me that 'later' needs to be 'now' when it comes to creativity...so today begins a new journey to discovering and appreciating that indeed, I am creative!

Thank you, Danya, for being my spark of creativity today...miss you!

a million little pieces

muchas gracias, amiga!

learning by heart

"Creativity belongs to the artist in each of us. To create means to relate. The root meaning of the word art is to fit together and we all do this every day. Not all of us are painters but we are all artists. each time we fit things together we are creating -- whether it is to make a loaf of bread, a child, a day." - Corita Kent, Learning by Heart: teachings to free the creative spirit

I am making time to read again a book I fell in love with 12 years ago. A wonderful friend - herself an artist, mother, creative - introduced it to me by giving me a photocopy of the book during a work trip I took to Yogya, since finding a copy for myself at the time was virtually impossible as it was no longer in print. I still remember where I read it, what colour the sky was that day, how the sun was gently shining its rays upon me, and the breeze was cooling me by the pool of one of my favourite places to stay.

Learning by Heart: teachings to free the creative spirit, by Corita Kent and Jan Steward finally became available in the form of a 2nd edition a few months ago through amazon.com, and I immediately ordered a copy that finally arrived not long ago. It is only now, though, that I have made the time to sit down quietly and read it again. I am only on page 5, but the flow of inspiration and creativity is already running through my veins and I am eager to discover what becomes of this process of rediscovery, unleashing, and transformation.

The quote above has particularly caused a ripple within me. Later this month, INSPIRIT will be running a training course that has the theme of How to Generate Creative People, Creative Organizations, Creative Communities. Often we have been asked what is it that makes us - individually and as an organization - creative and innovative. Through many reflections and ponderings, I have scribbled down various lists of the ingredients that I think have contributed to our ability to be creative. But ultimately, the basic ingredient one has to have is the belief that Corita Kent says - that within each of us there lives an artist, that every day we do create through how we interact and relate with our surroundings...and also with ourselves, and that even in what we feel is most mundane, there is an element of creative artistry that takes occurs.

I love what Corita says next on page 4 of this book, "As teachers we try to participate in the process of empowering people to be the artists they are. And as artists, we accept responsibility to create -- to realize our immense powers to change things, to fit things together in a new way."

She continues further with, "It is hard daily work, this creative process. But it is also greater than personal. We are asked to care for others as well-- helping them to create their lives as we were helped."

In many ways, the basic philosophy behind INSPIRIT and the work to do is greatly about both "giving back" by "paying it forward." On a personal level, the work I have chosen to do is my way of taking responsibility for what I have learned (and continue to learn) by sharing this amazing and unending source of knowledge called life...with others. And in the process of doing so, my learning is never-ending and I continue to grow.

During the past couple of months - as I have been challenged with the growing pains of transformation caused by events of the mind, body and soul - I have become more and more aware of what Corita means by the creative process being hard daily work. It is very easy to be lulled into ignorance, to stop being aware of the life-giving forces that are always around us, and to lose our ability to care for our own selves - as well as our ability to care for others. In the words of a friend I spoke to this evening - echoing something Bob Thurman said in a very moving talk at TED - 'our ability for compassion' - towards ourselves and towards others.

So as I begin my own process of writing to heal my soul, I am turning to the life-giving sources of inspiration in the forms of books, movies, simple things around me, and of course, the most valuable source of all, the people I interact with. I hope that what I learn will than take on a life of its own and transform into creativity expressed in the form of art...whatever form that art may manifest itself into.

Or, in paraphrasing Corita Kent, I look forward to discovering and sharing the "energy in the creative process that belongs in the league of those energies which can uplift, unify, and harmonize all of us."

Finding a few words...

...to write, that is. Actually, the piece I am posting below is several weeks old. Originally written for myself, then shared with a few close others; some of whom have responded, others who simply "didn't get it" and others yet who have promised to tell me what they think, but somehow their thoughts are still suspended somewhere and haven't quite made it into words. But hey, that's what happens to me all the time...I write something in my head (or heart) and somewhere between jumping out of my heart (or head) with every intention of making it onto paper (or my computer screen through my keyboard)...they hang around somewhere and never make it anywhere.

Soooo...I figured I should just share the below on my blog. Reflections written in the marginal space between a few hectic weeks of non-stop training and facilitating and on the verge of starting something new and exciting, yet daunting at the same time. Currently in "pause" mode in terms of the latter, in a way I am putting this here as a reminder of the passion behind what is currently being referred to as Sjahrir 101 (but more on that later).

Lest I forget, I am writing this down. While looking out at the afternoon sun hitting our garden at home today - the garden of Bapak's creation - Ibu said that it is afternoons like this that make her most grateful for Bapak's gifting her with our (her?) garden. It is, indeed, still stunning. Very much him, too. A reminder that he is always near.

One image that immediately came to my mind as I was looking out to the garden, was of him sitting in the garden on those afternoons when he actually made it home before the sun set. Contemplating, quiet, looking into the distance. The sky changing from blue to multi-shades of orange as the sun began its descent. He would spend many afternoons in the months after Oom Koko passed away, sitting on the white bench facing the setting sun, in quiet communion with whoever he happened to be thinking about.

Oom Koko's sudden passing hit him very hard. Bapak lost not only the one and only older brother he ever knew and loved. He had lost his best friend, the one he passionately shared his values and thoughts with, his worries and fears for this country and its people. The one he would challenge and be challenged by. The one who really understood the love he had for this nation and its people - or is it people before nation? who he had dedicated his life and lifework to.

I decided to take pictures of this beautiful garden of ours, and also to look again at the collection of Bapak's poems, writings, scribblings that Ibu and I put together in a little booklet to give away on the day we commemorated the 100th day since his passing. One thing that also came to mind was if he had ever written anything on his reflections of Sjahrir - as lately I have often wished he were still here so I could ask him what he thought of Sjahrir - the man, his thoughts, his actions, and his being part of our family. Questions that still hang in the air, falling silent and unanswered.

So I pulled out "Salmagundi" - the one and only copy we still have at home - and began reading through Bapak's writings. One poem stands out, and I am trying to remember if it was written before or after Oom Koko's death. What I do know is that it was written in reflection of one of the trips he and I took together to Kamakura when I was still living in Japan, a place that remains one of my favourite places. A place I would often go to when I simply needed to get away. A place that I still go to in my mind when I am in need of inner peace. I am quoting the poem in its entirety here, but it is particularly the last part of the poem that seems relevant to me at this moment. Perhaps, also, to the events taking place in commemoration of Sjahrir's 100th year.

Kamakura I

Chyrsanthemums and peaches will soon be in season
replacing persimmons and the morning glory.
Soon, mandarin oranges and the vines of the gourd
will signal the end of summer.

Seasonality is so obvious in a country such as this
where it is expressed in customs and traditions
in festivals, rituals and celebrations
in views and attitudes towards the passing of time
And - could it be - towards alloted life spans
And thus, towards death itself?

We say that life is but a stopover for a sip of water
on a never-ending journey.
Or we say that to die is to be born
into a new life
A return to a beginning.
We say many things to deny death's finality
And - could it be - that we thus deny death itself?

In celebrating seasonailty we see death
as the end of an existence, of an alloted term.
A span of time in which to express our humanity
by carrying out the self-defined assignments
that give meaning to our being human.
To do otherwise would be to accuse God of frivolity
and to deny that salvation is a possibility.

As we define our roles, we must be mindful of those
who share with us this human season.
We must also realize that those we revere and wish to emulate
but who die before we do
will leave to us their unfinished tasks
just like trees that have fallen down
leave those who go on living
unencumbered to the light of the sun,
and unsheltered from the full force of the wind.

(M.S. Kismadi)

I remember one of the first reactions that Bapak had when he heard of Oom Koko's sudden and unexpected death was, "But he still has so much to do!" And in the months leading up to Bapak's own passing on, years later, he would often say, "There is so much to do, but there is so little time (left)," as if he knew that the time was near for him to leave this world. Indeed, a few months before his death, he wrote a poem that expressed this sense of knowing his time in this 'human season' was coming to an end.

As I am trying to give meaning to why I am personally so passionate about doing something to commemorate Oom Sjahrir's 100th year, I find that perhaps what we are doing is part of carrying out the unfinished tasks of those who have left before us. And in the process of doing so, are defining new tasks that we will leave behind for others to carry forward in their own time. In other words, what we are doing is not so much in the spirit of "reverance", "emulation", or "adoration" ... (of Sjahrir or Soedjatmoko or Kismadi or others), but rather a conscious effort to take responsibility for playing a part in carrying out unfinished tasks - using our own interpretations, through our own means, taking into account what is relevant for today and the future.

At a time when there are constant cries and utterances of anger at the disaster of Situ Gintung, of frustration at the lack of leaders and leadership, of the upcoming elections that seem to be no more than a competition of unknown persons seeking power and wealth - I believe that what we are doing - in our own way - is reminding others (and ourselves) that it is time to be leaders of change in whatever we do; to take responsibility of the change we want to see by living our lives passionately, with a purpose that is beyond self-preservation and survival, but is - and has to be - bigger than us, and ultimately contributes to humanity.

I also believe that whatever we do has to also serve as a reminder to ourselves as much as it is to others, that the things we do becomes meaningless when we stop being able to see others with compassion, with a full realization that we are all human beings sharing a human season.

This sense of interconnectedness needs to be at the heart of whatever we do. Perhaps in realizing that this interconnectedness exists and is very real, the deep sense of longing and loss that at times seems overwhelming when I find myself thinking of loved ones who have lived in human seasons long past, will subside. And in its place, will come a sense of comfort that in fact we are still sharing the same journey, in our own, separate-yet-connected ways.

(29 March 2009)

Writeless

a state of knowing and wanting to write something...but simply cannot find the words to write

At least that's how I've been feeling for the past couple of weeks. It's been a crazy journey. Work and personal family life as well as personal health issues falling all over each other. Me, thinking that everything was under control, only to then find out it was everything but! And then everything came crashing down, screeching me to a halt, finding myself all crumpled and crumbling inside - emotionally and physically. And so I stopped. And listened to my body, my soul, and my mother's voice in my head saying, "How can you give of yourself, if you have nothing to give because you are so utterly exhausted?"

And so I did what I know now I simply have to make time for every now and then. Find a quiet place, a nest, where I can be totally alone with any existing raw emotions and tangled thoughts - but near enough to people whom I am comfortable with, who do not ask questions, who appreciate me for who I am - despite my sometimes inability (or unwillingness?) to appreciate myself. Family and the home is always a source of unending and unconditional energy...but sometimes we also need that breath of fresh air that fills the heart, soul and mind in completely different context. A sanctuary, but one that is also very vibrant and unexpected in a refreshing way.

Interestingly, I have been more productive work-wise in these past three days than I have in the past three weeks! At the same time, I have also explored many corners of my creative mind and been able to verbalize what I have found. And I also have felt listened to, and yes, seen by others. And in doing so, have also learned to listen and see not only others, but perhaps most importantly for this moment...myself.

A friend commented on my Facebook status "on a journey to self-discovery" - "Aren't we all?" Indeed we are. Not only as ourselves, but as that which is beyond ourselves. The challenge is to not lose the self in it all, and to also always be aware of each individual part that makes the collective "others".

So perhaps I am not totally writeless afterall. At least I've taken the first step to begin writing down the unraveling thoughts and feelings of my tangled mind. And perhaps in the posts that follow this one, I will begin making sense! The best cure for writelessness??? Start writing! All will become unraveled in due time...

And by all means...listen to what your body and your intuition is telling you. If you cannot even listen to yourself, how will you even begin listening to others? Communicating honestly with yourself is what ultimately energizes you to be able to communicate truthfully with others too.