25, Mental Age, 5

Now that I can be measured in a nice fraction of a decade, I’d like to say with the flailing wisdom of a young adult, that life would always be funny. Bunnies may not be as cute as they seem, and the guy with a face of an Italian mafia may have the softest heart (true story). At this age, I laughed out loud at Mickey Mouse clips while the toddler beside me kept a straight face. And ironically somebody who talks can be a lot more boring than a monitor screen.

I am one full of dreams (some may say my dreams conflict each other), yet at the same time anxieties. Believe me, the hole can only be filled with either one. What I choose to fill my hole with everyday defines what I will be in a few years time. But I was taught to not worry; to remember those lilies that neither spin nor toil. I was told to not fear, 365 times, one for each day of the year.

About that little library, that only exists in my head. I still want it. With reading nooks and picture books, spilled on pages and torn covers. My books are not ornaments for display, they were my paradise and will be for many others. I will teach them to read before sleeping and quietly slip the book underneath the pillow so nobody can steal it from their dreams, and it will be the first thing to touch when the mind is ready for more.

I was 5 when I had chicken pox, handed down from my sister. There is a picture of me naked in the bathtub showing off my red itchy spots. I was not sick, I was on a vacation. Free, even in things that seemed like a misery. I wrote more letters when I was five, I prayed unceasingly when I had to be left at home alone. I wanted to ride a roller coaster, but I wasn’t tall enough, so my dad took me to a nearby miniature and took a picture of me pretending to scream. I was satisfied. I was second from last in class. Do you think I cared.

A few years later I started caring. And I became daring, taking opportunities that came my way, thinking they will never come again. And I would be the most stupid person to reject them. Here I am on the eve of 25, still with the whole world before me, searching and waiting for many other opportunities to present themselves. Yet, I know that I can easily die tomorrow, because I have seen life being extremely funny. Don’t get me wrong, I am excited. Very excited, as a matter of fact. Because I think this is the right time to take a plunge. I have climbed high enough to be ready to jump and enjoy the thrill. But, sometimes, I scare myself for being greedy and for not knowing when to stop climbing. I just don’t want to be too high and too scared to leap.

So, here’s to 25, and to enjoying life. To following the call of the heart and giving thanks. To learn to see life as if I am five: to be joyful in all circumstances, to write more, to pray more. And if what I have dreamt of does not come true, to be satisfied with the next best thing. For the most part, the next best thing turns out to be the best thing anyways. Thank You for the past 25 years, they had been really wonderful. I am looking forward to the next 25 times 365 of do-not-fears. And since we’re talking about being five, let me end here with the wise words of carefree Dory: Just keep swimming! Cheers!

Emmanuel De Merode

OK this talk is what I was talking about the other day on the favorite TEDxWWF presentation. Conservation is there for human first, and then for the animals. Oh, watch out for me on 00:40. No I wasn't sleeping, I was probably tweeting about the event. And yes, I was cold, thus the oversized scarf.

Anywaysss, for his passion, dedication, and courage. Much respect.

Thanksgiving

I am thankful for the kiss from a 5 year old boy right on my shoulder blade.

For the stranger who entered my office letting me know there is an opening in his department.

For the grey sky that trains me to keep looking up for the chance of ray.

For family who waits for my home coming.

For awkwardness that had me spill stuff on people, twice, in a week.

For the older girl who watches movies beside me, your presence warms the room.

For cancers detected on early stages, and for those detected late.

For the chance of knowledge, and the opportunity to question the use of it.

For the big windows in the office and Facebook access at work.

For my favorite two sweaters to keep me warm in every sleep.

For parties, and kitchen, and finding ice, for half an hour.

For the security guard who held my hand and let me know I can come with him to Lausanne.

I haven't seen him around, I think he's fired for flirting too much.

For monks who pray and work like there is no tomorrow

For a particular brother who wiped my tears and told me I'm pretty

For strangers who become instant friends

For iPad and e-books and FaceTime

For tennis and sore muscles

For unknown future, the thrill of not knowing, and the faith to trust

For forgetting to put a full stop because it makes you more free

For friends who chose to go to Bali instead of Maldives

For a love that is willing to apologize and compromise

For silence to hear the clock ticks and time flies, but the present is always present.

For remembering to put the full stop back to be organized and correct.

For not having a turkey because they're bland, here is for having rendang instead.

For being offered a macaroon and having the power to politely reject it.

For remembering to give thanks.

On the eve of thanksgiving.

For the mimosa plant,

that closes with no regrets.

With every raindrop, wind, and passing critters.

Knowing it will open again when the time is right.

Just wait for when the time is right.

Meanwhile, give thanks for everything.

Taize: A Prologue

It all started with a rude man behind the counter. I had been eyeing him when I was queueing, wishing that when my number was called, I would get his counter, because he looked like Nigel Barker. The stars lined up and it did happen that he was the one to serve me. "I want to get a two-way ticket to Taize, going there Thursday evening and coming back on Sunday evening, please," I said. He searched for such ticket for me and it turned out that if I want to be in Taize Thursday night, I had to leave around 3 pm. With work finishing around 5.30 pm, leaving at that time wouldn't be possible. After all, I had asked for a Friday off which was given generously by my supervisor. Asking for a half day on Thursday would be a little pushing it. So, I asked for the train that leaves on Friday morning. At that point, Nigel Barker got a little irritated, somehow. After finding the times that I wanted, he gave me 4 tickets, two for each way. He told me all the timings, and circled my seat number in a bullet speed style such that I had to chuckle, "Hold on there, let me check what you just said." I found that the ticket he gave me was for Thursday morning, not Friday as I asked. He said sorry, but his eyes did not mean it. We looked again for the times that would be good for me. The problem was there were several connections, I wanted to be sure that I did not have to wait long in each station, but at the same time had enough time to catch the next train. At one point he threw an attitude, "You asked me for one thing, and then after I found it, you asked if there was a different time." I was taken aback, but I knew my rights as a customer. I forced a smile and said, "Wow, I'm guessing you have had a long day today, huh." After a little more unpleasant exchanges, we finally settled it and I got my tickets to Taize. I left Nigel Barker, promising to myself, unless he looked a whole lot like Will Smith, I won't ever wish on being served by such people again.

A couple of days before I went to Taize and after getting the tickets, I bought a book in Amazon: A Community Called Taize: A Story of Prayer, Worship, and Reconciliation. I have heard of Taize songs before. Sometimes the churches that I went to have Taize meetings, but I never came. I thought that it would be boring. Earlier in the year, I realized from the website that Taize was more than the songs, a whole lot more. In essence, Taize songs were not even the point. They are the beautiful roses along the road, not the road itself. The book gave a great introduction for me of what the Taize community was and what to expect when I was there. The author visited Taize for the first time in 2005. The first night he was there, Brother Roger, the brother who founded Taize was stabbed in the heart by a mentally ill young woman during the night prayer. He died a little right after. His life was dedicated to serve the poor, the underprivileged, the weary and outcast of the society. His life was ended by the same people whom he had served for years. For me, this is in short what exactly Brother Roger and Taize wanted to teach us: to work without caring about paybacks, to forgive the seemingly unforgiven, to trust those we did not know, to live simply for Him.

A question that kept coming up throughout the book was: why do so many young people come to Taize? And why do they keep coming back? In this world where the young are very much attracted by the rich and famous, where ambition for career and success meets with the oblivion for others, where Facebook becomes a best friend and twitter the tool to confirm existence, what is it about Taize that successfully compete with all those things? I am young, right... and I am definitely not bulletproof towards all these modernization and drive to pursue success. So I asked myself, why am I sparing a weekend to go there? Part of it is curiosity, part of it me wanted to have a calm weekend, but for the most part, I myself can't explain it. I just wanted to. Taize in my head was an exciting place in a different way than what excitement usually meant. I just wanted to. It was a reason strong enough to be confronted with any reasoning.

The journey to Taize was a little complicated. It was 2 hours of driving from Geneva, but without a car, it became 5 hours with two station stops. My first stop was in Lyon, a city in France famous for its gastronomy. From there it was another train to a city called Macon-ville. There I had a 2 hours waiting time. Macon-ville station was small. On the same train station there was also the bus station. Since there was literally nothing to do in the station other than sit, I decided to pay a visit to the town center. I assumed that the town was a small one, judging by the size of the train station, and I was right. It was about 11 am when I got to the city center, which like any other old town in I had seen so far, had car-free cobble-stone paths with store and restaurants on your left and right. Above the shops are residences with double pane windows from woods painted colorfully; sometimes totally not matching with the wall color but that's what made it even cuter. It was a little strange for me because most of the shops were closed. Only one or two were open and those were the ones selling antiques. Not many people were walking around, those who were there looked like they came out straight from Tin Tin comic books: older man and woman with hats holding a walking stick in one hand although they looked strong enough to walk without it. Later in the weekend I was told that it was labor day in France, which was why everything was closed.

I went back to the station about 20 minutes before my bus. As I approached a bench to sit, I saw a wallet. A beat up folded leather wallet on the same bench. I thought that somebody had left it there, but a moment after, a boy came and picked it up. He went off with two of his friends, rowdy and all. A little after that came a girl asking me: Did you see a wallet somewhere here? I said, yes, some boys just took it! It's yours?? She gasped, oh my god, I saw the boys and I asked them. Turned out that the girl named Sarah asked them again but they did not fess up. To make it somehow worse, they gave her 1.50 Euro for her bus ride. Sarah had been in Taize for a week and she went out for the weekend to meet her friend. She just withdrew 100 Euro a day before and there it went, to the hands of those rowdy boys. She decided to take the bus that went to Taize later to wait for the ticketing office to open and report them.

I went on my bus. I expected it to be like a half an hour ride. We went through hills and winding road and I suddenly realized that Brother Roger was not kidding when he planned to find a rural poor village. The journey ended up being an hour and by the time we arrived I truly felt like I was in the middle of nowhere. I simply didn't know where I was on the map. I had arrived in one of the places many said to be heaven on earth. Realizing at the same time what a privilege that was, because not far from there were boys who would steal your wallet, and Nigel Barker look alike who would be rude to you. But in Taize you would believe that they were good people. There is no bad people, like there is no stupid kids. There's only broken people with broken attitudes.

When The Music Fades

I have to say, I'm feeling a little mellow today. I think it's partly because I haven't been paying much attention to my faith lately and today at Church, I was pretty focused compared to usual. For me, this week's reading reminds me to reposition my dreams and priorities, to seek wisdom and act wisely, to know what has the utmost importance. I had a small conversation last night that somewhat triggers me to think again about the things that I would want to do. It was an interesting conversation. It started off with, let's say you can turn back time and choose your major again, but this time already knowing what you know now at mid 20s, what would you choose. One said he'd want to be a music composer, he's taking an MBA now. Surprisingly for myself, I could not place my finger on any particular subject. Would it be journalistic, or environmental science, or education, or renewable energy? What would I do if money is not important, what would make me truly happy?

Unfortunately money IS important for me. Everybody wants at least a decent life, having a house of your own and a car to safe you from heat, rain, and sweaty guys on public buses. Lately, I've been counting my own resources. I've counted my savings and the amount that I would spend here while I'm in Europe. I counted how long would it take for me to pay off a mortgage for a small house with the salary that I will likely have in Indonesia. I haven't thought if I would be capable to sending my kids off to college overseas yet, but for that I can always follow the suggestion in one of the insurance company advertisements: teach your kids how to dunk a ball and send him off using a basketball scholarship. You see, money does matter. I'd love to travel once in a while, like having a Southeast Asia tour or something. I think about money, I would want to have it. But it's evident that it hinders us to pursue what we love. Or else the question "what would you do if money is no problem" would not arise.

Continuing on the conversation I had last night. Dreams are different for different people, and I respect that. So, the person was talking about working at the job really hard, become an expert on it, climb the corporate ladder, and retire at 40 when you'll have all the time you want for family or to explore the things you've always wanted to do. The catch is, until 40, you will probably work like a dog, having little sleep, little personal life and little family time. Then I asked a rude question: what if you die at 39? He said, that would just suck. I guess while that plan seems "realistic", it means that you are planning to start your life when you're 40, while all along your life has actually started long time ago. You are forcefully putting a halt on it and taking the assumption that you will still be alive when your life plan starts. A pretty risky thing, in my mind. Thus, the real question becomes how do I be happy in a realistic way? Realistic in this case means having money.

These questions, I know, can be answered with wisdom. Now, hmmm, where can I buy one of those? Today's reading is what struck me hard:

"Resplendent and unfading is wisdom, and she is readily perceived by those who love her, and found by those who seek her. She hastens to make herself known in anticipation of their desire. Whoever watches for her at dawn shall not be disappointed, for he shall find her sitting by his gate. For taking thought of wisdom is the perfection of prudence, and whoever for her sake keeps vigil shall quickly be free from care; because she makes her own rounds, seeking those worthy of her, and graciously appears to them in the ways, and meets them with all solicitude."

Then the reading was followed by the gospel about 10 bridesmaids who were waiting for the groom to come. Five were sleeping and they ran out of oil for the lantern, five were wise and they kept their oil. When the groom came, the ones who ran out were away to get more oil and so they missed the banquet. The wise and vigilant ones kept their initial invitation and were welcomed. This is a story of prioritization and self-organization. Knowing what's important at what particular time, and what to do to prepare for the future. This is a story about wisdom.

In Steve Jobs commencement speech, he said that if you want to know what you should be doing, imagine death, the most certain thing about the future. Think about what you want yourself caught doing the day you die and think about the things that you want people to say about you on the funeral day. Do those things today. In the end, nobody will praise you for your good grades, for your corporate positions, for having travel the world. Steve Jobs, in the eulogies, was not praised much for being smart, he was praised most for being hard working, creative, and passionate. Nobody said anything about him being rich and how wonderful it was for the family to be inherited his abundance possessions.

When I think about death, I think about God. For those of you who believe in God, no matter what form, I think the answer for the things to do before you die is whatever that makes God happy, whatever things He said He wants us to do. Even the most ridiculous things, like doing a handstand while hula hoop-ing or something of that kind. Because I know that it's my last attempt to do what He asks of me. If this is the kind of thing to be done then all the validity of my question about what would bring happiness while being realistic at the same time will vanish all of a sudden. It becomes a foolish question. All that remains is what does God ask of me today, what would be the wise thing to do? As simple and as deep as that.

When the music fades, and all is stripped away, and I simply come. Longing just to give something that's of worth that will bless Your heart. I'll bring You more than a song, for a song in itself is not what You have required. You search much deeper within through the way things appear. You're looking into my heart. I'm coming back to the heart of worship, and it's all about You.

I'm trying to fade the music, and strip everything else.