This is When I Tried to Understand God’s Perspective

I’m always asking, “Why does God create us?” What does He want? Doesn’t He have anything to do and want something to play with? Does He feel lonely? Are we all a mere experiment to Him? A huge nonsense? What’s the point of Heaven and Hell, if those even exist? Why would He create us, watch us live and suffer and dead and live again, only to put us into Afterlife? What’s the point? Why? Why? Doesn’t He even exist, or am I talking about something that isn’t there in the first place?

I was crying one afternoon because I was so upset listening that non-Muslim people will go to Hell no matter how kind they are. They said it was like you were attending classes in the university you didn’t register. You might attend all classes, pass the tests with flying colours, but in the end you wouldn’t get any graduation certificate because you weren’t registered as a student in the first place. It was the same with religion; even though you do good deeds on Earth, you won’t be accepted in Muslim’s version of Heaven simply because you’re not a Muslim. Or any Heaven from any religion’s version, it doesn’t matter. I picked Islamic version because I’m a Muslim and that was what I know.

Perhaps there’s a different concept of Heaven?

Anyway, if the correct version of Heaven is the one I wrote before (only Muslim can enter—and they’re not even guaranteed to go there), does it feel right for you?

For me, it doesn’t feel right. Not even okay.


If you’re using Vine, you must be familiar with Jérôme Jarre. He’s French, now in Somalia helping people to stop famine and make them happy again. In the process, he met Muslim woman, talked with her, and she taught him how to say “Alhamdulillah”. He published on his Instagram, “Islam that world didn’t see”. “Islam is full of love”, and he spread the news even though he’s not a Muslim. I don’t know what he believes in, but now it doesn’t matter—what really matter is his helping people sincerely because he’s a human who wants to help other humans. As simple as that.

Just to make sure, I asked some Muslims, “Will non-Muslim be able to go to Heaven when they’re very kind to other human being while they live on Earth?” They said, “No, they can’t.”

However, if you read at the previous case, actually a non-Muslim guy is helping Muslim people in Somalia so they won’t starve anymore (yeah, he’s still doing it as I’m writing this post). They must be very thankful to him and to God as well, and Jérôme—intentionally or not—made some Somalis love God more because “God” finally sent them a good human being to help them. (I said “some” because probably some others decided not to believe in God anymore and just believe in the real thing.) According to Islam, Jérôme will go to Hell—really?? Are you serious? He’s helping Muslims, spreading the good about Islam to the world, yet he doesn’t deserve a Heaven at all? Must be kidding, right?

Why do we have to go to Heaven in the first place? From what I heard, anyone can get anything they want once they’re there—all they need to do is asking. What’s the purpose of living when you don’t have to fight for anything anymore? What’s your life purpose? Would life be boring, you think? If I were there I would be lazy all the time.

It made me frown; I really was confused. I didn’t get what God thought of all these things. If You’re really there, would You make me understand? Why are You so happy making people feel confused about You? Don’t You want to be understood, to be recognised? WHY are You making it so hard?

This was when I made an analogy.


I imagined myself as a mother of two children, a boy and a girl. Why would I have children? I don’t know; probably because I’m bored with my life and I want something new, because I want to give love to other creature (this doesn’t make sense though as there are still a lot of kids who need love and care, so why should I “create” a new one?), or because it’s an accident caused by uncontrolled lust?? (No way in hell!—well it’s just an instance.)

(Have you ever asked your parents why you were born? What did they have on their mind when they decided to have you? Did you dare to ask? I haven’t asked my own parents until now—I’m shy and afraid to make them angry. Why? They easily make a fuss about little things that feel personal and I don’t want to play with the fire. I do encourage you to ask your parents though, and let me know their answers if you don’t mind.)

Then sadly one of my kid, let’s say the old one, didn’t recognised me as his parent. Even though I cared and loved him so much and helped him to grow up until he became a man, I was invisible to him. The cause can be anything: he was hurt by me for some reason; I didn’t give enough love, care, or money; he found more loving and caring “mom” out there; or he simply was an asshole. Either way, I didn’t exist for him.

I would be very, very angry if it happened—and sad. Terribly sad.

Nonetheless, he really cared for his younger sister. He was always there for her, be a silly friend and a protective brother. He even made his sister loved me more as her mom. She thanked me for “giving” her such a kind brother whom she saw as her hero, even though she felt sad because she couldn’t encourage her brother to love me. She was torn.

So was I.

I would still love my children regardless of how they behaved towards me, especially if my son made my daughter loved me more although he didn’t intentionally do it. I really would love to reach for him again, but it was hard for me to do that because I didn’t exist in his world—there was nothing for me to do if he had already built such a tall, strong wall that was hard to break. I would be able to break it if only he allowed me to do so. I would feel resentful, but yeah… I could only shrug, I guess? I could provide an extremely beautiful place to live in, yet he refused to enter. Though, if in a blue moon he changed his mind and chose to come to me, I would gladly open my arms widely and accept him as he was.


Perhaps God is pretty much the same: feels betrayed when people don’t recognise His existence, desperately want people to come to Him but some people refuse, and so forth. I personally think that there’s a supreme being who created all of us. Since I was born as a Muslim, Allah is the God I know and Islam is the way of living that I understand. Yes, if I were born in a different family there were a chance I wouldn’t be a Muslim; I would be so different, thus I wouldn’t be “me” at all. Now I’ve found more peace in my belief. It doesn’t matter that there are many other religions or no religion at all. This is what I know, and I just want to go “home”.

What about other religions? Do they belong to the Heaven that I (don’t) know of? Maybe there are many Heavens out there, just like many countries in the world. Every country has its own system; none of them are wrong. It’s just a matter of what suits it best. Same goes with Heaven, maybe. (I wrote lots of “maybe” because I don’t know myself. Then again, who knows?) What if someone doesn’t believe in God or Heaven at all? They might not believe in it, but I believe that they will have a place as well. It’s better for them I think because they have nothing to expect.

Now that I wrote about it, it sounds silly that Heaven has many “countries”, but I just want kind people who aren’t Muslim also belong to Heaven, in their own terms, and I can meet family and friends again. Heaven won’t be so boring as long as I have them there, eh?


Everyone’s perception about God would differ, and it’s totally fine. No one knows the truth. My perception could change as well if I change my analogy, yours too, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I imagine myself as a parent who has children because that’s what makes sense for me so far; I’m open to new perspective if you care to share some to me. The bottom line is maybe it’s kind of useless to think about this abstract stuff, but having a place to stand on makes me feel in peace.

By the way, what do you have in mind?

Advertisements

One of The Brightest Stars

(Source: Genius)

I had never posted any posts related to songs in WordPress until now; I wrote it because this song touched me to the personal level. The song was introduced to me by a friend, Dino, and I thank him so much. I won’t interpret the song by words, but by how it means to me.

It’s better to listen to the song first. You’re gonna like it. 😉

One day your story will be told.
One of the lucky ones who’s made his name.
One day they’ll make you glorious,
Beneath the lights of your deserved fame.

This lyrics give me hope. Yesterday, I read that there is 3-step process to create your reality. I’m on Step 2, and listening this fuels my spirit. I picture that in 5 years, I will help coffee farmers to process their coffee so the beans will have the highest quality. Their life will be better, and we’ll all be happy together.

Anyway, I won’t hide the fact that I want to do something good at last because I want to feel good, be good, and look good while I’m doing it. I also want to prove myself and other people that I can do one thing properly and do it until the end. If you think that it’s not good to have your personal reasons, nah, it’s totally fine. You don’t have to share it to anyone if you’re uncomfortable, but at least be honest to yourself. Acknowledge it, and let it empower you when you feel like you want to give up.

After all, I (and you too) will be blinded by the lights of our deserved fame some time soon.

And it all comes round.
Once in a lifetime like it always does.
Everybody loves you ’cause you’ve taken a chance,
Out on a dance to the moon, too soon.
And they’ll say: told you so.
We were the ones who saw you first of all.
We always knew that you were one of the brightest stars.

A chance will come only once in my life, and everyone will love me because I’ve taken the chance as soon as it appears. They pretty much will tell that they’ve always known that I deserve all of the good things that happens to me. People always like to be close to someone who is kind, has a good reputation, and is successful in life. That’s why they’ll say, “Told you so.” They think they knew it since the first time they saw me struggle. Some of them are true, but only God knows about the others.

One day they’ll tell you that you’ve changed,
Though they’re the ones who seem to stop and stare.
One day you’ll hope to make the grave,
Before the papers choose to send you there.

People won’t notice me until I give impacts to them, either directly or indirectly. For the third and fourth line, I don’t believe that “one day I probably choose to die instead of let the fate send me to the grave”. For me the meaning is I’ll live this world as fully as possible before I die.

And it all comes round.
Once in a lifetime like it always does.
Nobody loves you ’cause you’ve taken a chance,
Out on a dance to the moon, too soon.
And they’ll say: told you so.
We were the ones who saw you first of all.
We always knew that you were one of the brightest stars.

(Source: azlyrics)

In some cases, people might hate me because I’m taking a chance towards my dreams. Some people won’t like seeing me succeed for some reasons, even though in the end they probably will embrace me as a friend again when I’ve reached my goals.

Either way, I still will be one of the brightest stars.

Home, Sweet and Lovely Home

I sit by myself in the living room, in front of my laptop. Easy-listening music is played softly on the background. The clock ticks slowly, as if it feels too lazy to move its second. Some trees out there are dancing very, very slowly. Apparently the wind is also too lazy to move. It is sunny outside; couch potatoes like me would rather stay at home and get fat relax.

I’m going to write about this house, which now has become my home for several months. I write for myself; I know I’m gonna miss it someday when I hit the road or when I come back to my old house.

My home is located on a border area between Bandung and Cimahi. My parents decided to rent this house because it’s closer to their office and to their children’s schools, and is affordable. I remember my first impression of the house: felt like it was so far away from the city. The road was rocky and it was deadly quiet because the house is located at the end of the road–no one passes by. The inside of house looked weird as well; I couldn’t understand what was on the architecture’s mind when he designed the house–if there was any architecture at all. On those early days, my parents often visited the house to clean and renovate it.

After the renovation was finished and the furnitures were all placed, I don’t think I can leave this house. Ever.

Why do I feel so attached to this house?

This house and its environment give positive energy to me: it has lots of windows, so I don’t need to turn on any lights during the day except for bathrooms. I like to hangout with my family in the living room; laughing, telling stories, eating, or just being immersed on our own gadgets. It’s just… it feels good to live here. The neighbours are also nice; I remember their faces because I sometimes jog in the morning. Every morning I can see kids going to kindergarten, naive and full of curiosity. Every afternoon they will play soccer on the field and the girls will cheer at them. Some dads are also active; I’ve seen them countless times playing tennis (yes, we have a tennis court as well). It’s very lively. I like it here.

The house also has stories of travellers who came by and stayed for awhile. They are from Indonesia, Canada, France, Philippines, Taiwan, Germany, and still counting. We shared stories, inspired each other, and often they would cook me food from their countries even though I didn’t ask. They became my new friends even though we only met for a short time. Some people would be too worried or anxious to let someone they don’t know to stay in their house, but not me. I guess I will always naively think that people are kind (even though I got hurt several times for being too trustful) and they all have interesting stories to share. I still believe in humanity. This house is the witness of kindness and love one can give to other human being.

In a peaceful morning, I exercise or meditate on my backyard, which is big enough to play badminton. Being surrounded by nature, with only the sound of breeze passing through the trees and of birds chirping, would do good for one’s mind and heart. Often I would just lay on the mattress, close my eyes, and feel the life in me and my surrounding. It’s calming. What a wonderful feeling.

I love living here. 🙂

I’ll Write Some More :)

Positivity Now

I was surprised when I checked my email this morning and found an invitation to become an author on Positivity Now, a blog about individual’s every aspect of life. School, work, relationship, mental health… you name it. It’s all about wellness-being, something that has always been piqued my interest. To be invited on such blog warms my heart, and it inspires me to write some more, the way I used to several years ago. (Visit bayart.org if you’re curious or interested.)

I couldn’t resist to smile reading this line on the introduction post: “This is not an elite space, reserved for experts, thought leaders, or professional bloggers. This is a blog for real people who are willing to share themselves honestly and vulnerably.” Vulnerably.

There are lots of drafts on my blog; I only managed to finish writing some of them. That’s why there aren’t many posts on my blog. Why? Simply because I felt so teared up writing about my insecurities and my past failures. Probably I should write something else, something easier, but no. I want to get those out of my head; I want to free myself and accept myself for what I was and am now. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t forgiven myself; I have, but writing those experiences in clear words for the world to see is a different thing. I will do it though, sooner or later.

Writing has always been my thing since I was a kid, and it will always be.

 

Immersed

She was so immersed in her thoughts.

However, every now and then, she glanced to her right. Someone sat beside her; he had a tall posture, black hair, and almond-shaped eyes. Sometimes he started a conversation with her; sometimes it was her turn to do it first. If they didn’t talk with each other, they would play with their phones or just stare blankly at their surrounding, probably thinking what to talk next.

Once or twice she felt his eyes on her, but she acted like she didn’t know it. She kept her head down, fiddling with her pen. She didn’t want to look like she was interested.

On the rare occasion when they actually talked with each other, she couldn’t resist the urge to look into his dark eyes and his small lips accordingly. His eyes narrowed when he laughed, showing his white teeth. Sometimes he stuck his tongue or even bit his lower lip.

His lip-biting was her weakness. Every time he did that, she couldn’t help but imagining how soft his lips would be like. It was hard for her to not think about being pinned against the wall and kissed by him softly yet passionately at the same time. She had always been curious about how soft his hair would feel like when she raked her hands on his hair. Everything about him made her feel stupid and she wanted to learn more about the subject of him. How come her lecturer never taught her that?

She was so immersed in her thoughts.

Sound of Sunday Mornings

(I wrote this based on today’s Daily Prompt: Sound. Enjoy!)

If you were to ask me, “What is the difference between Sunday and any other day?” I would certainly say, “It is the sound.”

I still live with my parents, who have two houses: Weekday House and Weekend House. Their real house is the Weekend House (I mean, they actually own it. Meanwhile, the Weekend House is only rented), but my family and I often stay in the Weekday House because it is closer to our schools and workplaces. Besides, the Weekday House is bigger and more open–it has more windows, has wider front and back yards, and does not have a fence. It makes me feel like there is no barriers between me and my neighbours, and it is a nice feeling. Moreover, I like to meditate on my backyard because it feels very peaceful there. 😉

Anyway, there is one thing that I really hate about the house: it is always noisy in the morning! I am always waken up by the blaring sound of telly (Mom always turns it on every morning to wake up everyone), the loud banging of Mom knocking my door so hard… I have no idea why everyone and everything seem to make loud sounds every morning. It never fails to ruin my morning! I always wake up groggily, often still sleepy but cannot go back to sleep. It sucks.

Except Sunday mornings!

You know what, there is this one weird thing about Mom: she does not want to rent the Weekend House because she feels hard to trust other people to live there. Thus, the house is just left unused for 5 days a week which, for me, is illogical because she has to spend money for weekly maintenance (and has to do cleaning frenzy as well–actually that is what she does every time she comes there), and it is such a waste of time and money. The house becomes a liability, not an asset, if you know what I mean. I have suggested to rent the house several times and hire a maid to help her clean the house, but she just would not listen. Whatever, Mom. Lol.

Anyway, I have gotten one advantage out of Mom’s weirdness: I can have the whole Weekday House for myself every weekend! (I always choose to stay there because it is simply inconvenient for me to stay in the other house, only to sleep my ass off, then have to go back later.) Yes, smart people, you guess it right. What makes my Sunday mornings different with other day mornings is I can sleep as much as I want without being disturbed by the sound of telly! I know I have mentioned lots of sounds, but it is telly’s that I hate the most. When I am alone, in the morning I will be waken up only by the sounds of bird chirping or wind breezing through the trees. (Yes, it is that quiet if I am the only one who stay at home. My house is located at the end of the road, so no one passes by with no reason.)

It feels like Day of Silence every time I am home alone. Haha!

Well, that is a teeny tiny bit of my daily life. Now that I write about it, it seems silly that I am annoyed by small things such as the sound of telly, and can immediately feel relaxed and satisfied after I turn it off. How about you? 😉