Imagine a friend of ours coming over. When we saw her, we realized that she has gained some weight. Do we tell her: “You’re so fat. You’re so ugly. You’re lazy. You don’t work out. That’s why you’re fat. You’re fat and there’s nothing you can do. You’re hopeless!” 

Another time, maybe our nephew is having problems with his math homework. Do we tell him: “You’re so stupid! You are never good in math or in anything else! You’re just stupid and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to grasp it!” 

Or our friend, who is struggling with his music career. Do we tell him: “Just give up. You’re not talented. You’re wasting your time.” Or a colleague, who is struggling with her relationship. Do we tell her: “You’re pathetic. You’re always unlucky in love. There’s no way for him to love you. Of course, he doesn’t love you. You don’t deserve love. Nobody loves you. You’re worthless.”

Do we tell them these things? I guess most of us would say, “Of course not!”

So, why don’t we say those things to them? “Because those words are just mean,” we may say. “Because it feels heartless to do so. Because we’re afraid that these harsh words will hurt their feelings and make them feel worse. Because we know words are that powerful.”

The thing is if we don’t say these things to our friends or our colleagues or a little kid, why do we say these things to ourselves? Some of us even repeat these words to ourselves way more often than others. Why do we say I can’t do this or I am not good in this or I am fat or I am ugly or I suck at this or I’m such a failure?

If harsh words that we say to others can hurt their feelings, what about those harsh words we say to ourselves? When we say harsh words to others, there’s still a distance. A distance between us (who said those words) and the others (who received those words). Even with this distance, we know our words can hurt their feelings deeply. Imagine the time when we say those harsh words to ourselves. There’s no distance whatsoever. Imagine how much more it hurts. Imagine how severe the impact could be.

So be gentle with yourself. We know how nice it is to hear others saying good things about us; or giving us compliments, support, and encouragement. Let’s do this to ourselves more often from now on.

*) inspired by a conversation I had with my friend Eva a long time ago. photo credit: D. Sharon Pruitt from Pink Sherbet Photography via photopin cc

“If I came to think about it again today and calculated it mathematically, I would say no way. No way I could ever send all my kids to school,” said the cab driver.

It was another rainy afternoon I spent in the backseat of a Jakarta cab. The clock was ticking away, the rain kept on pouring, the car horns around me were blaring madly, and still, 20 minutes later, the traffic didn’t move. Fortunately, having spent 12 years commuting, I have familiarized myself with Jakarta’s hellish traffic jam—to the point that it doesn’t really bug me anymore (the fact that I don’t drive my own car helps).

So there were times when I would just watch the traffic in silence; sit cross-legged, close my eyes, and meditate; sing along to the songs being played on the radio, or take a short nap. There were also times when I would play stupid games on my iPhone, text-flirt with a guy I like via WhatsApp, or have a chat with the cab driver.

***

I didn’t remember how our conversation began that afternoon. I guessed I was casually asking if the driver had kids—and how they were doing with their education. “I have three kids, and alhamdulillah, they are all in school,” he said. A tinge of pride was clearly audible in his voice when he added that the oldest one was about to graduate from university.

“Until today, I still can’t believe it. It’s such a blessing from God that my kids can pursue their education,” he continued, turning down the volume of the radio. “There were times when I counted the money I got from driving this cab, and logically, it was not enough to send my kids to school—not to mention sending my daughter to university. But I always believed that God would help me and show me the way. So I prayed to God. I prayed for my family, for my kids, for myself, for us to be safe and healthy, for my kids to be able to go to school. And then I went back to work and just work as hard as I could, knowing that God had listened to my prayers.”

And then he laughed. “The funny thing was that actually, I didn’t get more money. But my daughter got a very good grade and could go to university on a full scholarship. At other times, some relatives suddenly gave us some money. When I wasn’t driving (the cab), someone gave me a job to drive an ojek (motorcycle taxi), thus I could get another source of income. A neighbor asked my wife to help out with cooking or washing.”

“Somehow, we always found ourselves having enough money. Such a blessing from God. I am so grateful. I am not rich, but everything I have, everything that God has given me, is enough.”

The cab driver had just given me the best advice ever about living life.

***

I had heard about The Secret when the book came out. I didn’t buy or read the book, though. To be honest, I had just watched The Secret movie on YouTube two months ago. When I watched the movie, it confirmed my belief that The Secret is a concept that has grown within me since I was a little kid. The concept is linked to the way we practice our spiritual beliefs.

I remembered how my mom always said, “Go get wudhu (ablution). Shalat. Pray to God. Ask God to help you. Tell God what you want.” Now I realized that this is the process when we’re sending our wishes to the Universe. And when we pray, we need to believe that God is the Almighty. We need to have faith (imaan). The Secret tells us to believe that the Universe is abundant and it will grant our wishes if we only believe.

The Secret also tells us to be specific with our wishes and to wish only goodness. How many of us, during our elementary school days, have heard jokes or stories about why we need to be specific about what we ask in our prayers? For example, about someone who wants to ‘light up the world’ and end up being a huge candle instead of an inspiring country leader? “Do not pray for bad things to be cast upon others,” my grandmother used to say. “It will be reflected back upon you.” (Jangan doain orang yang jelek-jelek. Nanti malah kamu yang kena.).

The bible said it perfectly as well: “But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.”

The Secret also tells us about being thankful for what we have now. About the importance of gratitude. Interestingly, there are five aspects of a prayer in Sufism, and guess what? The first aspect of prayer according to Sufism is, indeed: gratitude.

We’ve been too familiar with the phrase Ora et Labora as a student. Prayer and work. Similarly, The Secret tells us that we need to do something instead of just sitting around waiting for the magic to happen. We need to make an effort to get closer to our heart’s desires.

And then we need to let them go.

Do not doubt the Universe and keep asking why we haven’t seen anything happening yet. We need to believe that the Universe will bring us what we want (or even better) when the time is right. This is the concept of pasrah. Surrendering completely to the hands of God when you’ve done all your best. (Interestingly, I found an article about a missionary who changed his name into Pasrah Karso or Surrendered Will, so I guess this concept is acceptable in different religions).

And so my crash course about The Secret was delivered one rainy afternoon, by an amazing cab driver.

***

Came to think about it, I was curious. What’s the best piece of advice others have ever received so far? Who gave them this advice, if they still remember? And so I have collected some great advice received by my friends in different parts of the world:

AULIA HALIMATUSSADIAH, INDONESIA. Businesswoman, start-up founder, author of more than 30 books.

That nobody can hurt me without my consent. My former boss told me this after I broke up with a long-time boyfriend. I put the quote as my laptop’s wallpaper for quite some time. Can finally understand the whole meaning two years ago. Now, I can master my own emotion. It’s a life-changing quote.

SAMANTHA BARRY, UNITED KINGDOM. Editor-in-Chief GLAMOUR magazine.

The best advice I ever got is to surround yourself with people that support you. It’s only in my 20’s that I realized the value of having a core group of friends who are your cheerleaders. Yes, we are there for each other in sad times, but for me when the people in your life support and encourage you, there is not a whole lot that you can’s achieve.

BINA SHAH, PAKISTAN. Internationally acclaimed writer.

I have received so much wonderful advice in my life from so many people it’s impossible to really pinpoint one piece. However I will tell you about a book that changed my life, and the advice contained in it: Napoleon Hill’s The Power of Positive Thinking. Any advice from any person I knew that said the same thing he said in that book was just reinforcement for what I learned from that book: that your positive mental attitude (PMA) was the most important factor in determining whether you could be successful in life and whether you could help other people, and also whether you would be a pleasure to be around or a disaster for everyone else in your life!

ASTRID SCHWARZ, SOUTH AFRICA. Visual artist.

“Dream Big”. These words may not be a sentence representing that of a strand of pearls {in that the words are just two, and not many} but they have added to a solid foundation of following a dream that began from very small beginnings. My big sister, now living in New York, has been telling me, to, in one way or another “Dream Big” from a young age. It was only in 2012, on a visit to NYC that she said the actual phrase to me “Dream Big”. It struck a chord, and has evolved into “Dream Big and then Dream Bigger”. I always go back to the phrase, it walks hand in hand with being persistent and active in building my dream, and so the words are no longer just a phrase, but they entail a beautiful element of simplicity that in turn encourages and uplifts me as I grow my dream.

GEETANJALI KAUL, INDIA. A talented blogger, a wife, a mom of two kids.

You know, as far as advice go, I follow many. And collectively they changed my life and made it better. To begin with, my dad always said ‘Aim High’ and I followed that in every field of life. Then as I got married he said, ‘Never differentiate between relatives of your husband and your own.’ Truly this helped a lot. It would never be your mother or my mother, it would just be your mother. Let them guess and ask whose mother! Then a friend of mine told me as I got married, ‘If you are upset with him do tell him.’ Men do not get to know that you are upset and they would be enjoying and you would be sulking. So say it out loud. Lately, my mentor taught me to smile through all that happens and there is nothing you cannot find if you really want to, which denotes basically: where there is a will there is a way!

NILA TANZIL, INDONESIA. Founder of Rainbow Reading Garden, Social Worker.

“Life is about balance. When we receive, we also need to give. Don’t always look up. Look down, because there are still a lot of people out there who are not as lucky as we are, and they need our help.” That’s the advice from my mother, Yuriah Tanzil. I always remember it. Thus, when I got my own salary, I helped a child in need. That’s my way to give back. It makes my life balance. Another one is from my friend, Henri Ismail. He said, “We only live once. If you want to do something in life, then go and do it. Otherwise, you’re a loser.” This advice makes me pursue the things I have always dreamed of. I don’t want to be called a loser by myself.

***

What about you? What’s the best piece of advice you have received so far? Who gave you this advice, and how did the advice change your life?

I remembered one sunny afternoon in Delhi’s Khan Market. I was inside a small bookstore–looking for some Hindi poetry books for Ollie. The room was packed with books, starting from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Books were stacked here and there. I needed to walk very carefully to avoid collapsing those book piles. Once and a while, I climbed into a wooden bench to see the titles on the upper shelves. I was rummaging through some Hindi poetry books when I found a pink book that caught my attention instantly. OSHO was written in big letters on the cover.

Ollie was the one who introduced me to Osho’s works a few months back–and I had tried to look for his works in English bookstores in Indonesia to no avail. That afternoon, the universe guided me to find Osho’s book and the title was: BEING IN LOVE. I spent my days in India reading this book–mostly during my 6-hour ride from Delhi to Agra. I wished I found this book sooner, but I guessed everything falls into place when the time is right. When I am ready.

Here’s a beautiful excerpt from the book that I’d like to share with you:

Love cannot be learned, it cannot be cultivated. The cultivated love will not be love at all. When you learn something, it means something comes from the outside; it is not an inner growth. And love has to be your inner growth if it is to be authentic and real.

Love is not a learning but a growth. What is needed on your part is not to learn the ways of love but to unlearn the ways of un-love. The hindrances have to be removed, the obstacles have to be destroyed—then love is your natural, spontaneous being. Once the obstacles are removed, the rocks thrown out of the way, the flow starts. It is already there—hidden behind many rocks, but the spring of love is already there. It is your very being.

Love is a breeze.

Don’t think that love has to be permanent, and it will make your love life more beautiful because you will know that today you are together, and tomorrow perhaps you will have to part. 

Love comes like a fresh, fragrant breeze into your home, fills it with freshness and fragrance, remains as long as existence allows it, and then moves out. You should not try to close all your doors, or the same fresh breeze will become absolutely stale. In life, everything is changing and change is beautiful; it gives you more and more experience, more and more awareness, more and more maturity.

The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person—without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other into a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. They allow the other absolute freedom, because they know that if the other leaves, they will be as happy as they are now. Their happiness cannot be taken by the other, because it is not given by the other.

Namaste.

February unfolds with raindrops and pillows and that feverish feeling of missing something you can’t really put into words or shapes or figures and makes your stomach churns. Those fluffy rain clouds loom above you as you sip your first cup of coffee in the morning and your last cup of tea in the evening, heavy with million droplets of memories. Everything is silent, like waking up in a hotel room at 2.15 in the morning or standing alone inside an elevator rushing to the 27th floor.

But there’s something slightly convenient about wandering around the house listlessly with your pajamas on when the sun is high, listening to Jonathan & Charlotte while reciting Laksmi Pamuntjak’s poems from The Anagram. You retreat to your bedroom when the storm hits and think about that French word, retrouvailles: the happiness of meeting again after a long time.

You wonder if it’s worth the wait–people change and you’ve been hurt before. So you keep yourself busy doing almost everything you can think of, just to distract yourself from the weight of not knowing. You clean and dust and vacuum and mop and cook and water the plants like it’s the last time.

You don’t write another unsent letter because they are too sad. But you keep your words nonetheless: a home is simply a place where you’ll be missed. And though he carried these words with him that day, you are not sure if he remembers or if he knows that you really mean it, or if he actually cares; and so despite the cold and the downpour, you leave the front door open, ready for the retrouvailles.

Sometimes it feels like we are not going to make it. There are too many uncertainties ahead of us (and between us). Sometimes it feels like a sweet dream, and that I will wake up one day, realizing that you are no longer here. That our time is up. Sometimes it feels so temporary, so all-of-a-sudden, it scares me to the bone. Sometimes it feels like we’re hanging on a very thin rope, almost touching—just as close as almost. Sometimes it feels like we are just two lonely souls hovering around the earth and find a clear reflection of ourselves in each other. Sometimes it feels like we’re as distant as stars, like hopes, as wishes, as memories.

Sometimes it feels like we’re meant to be together—not just in the now, but 6 hours later or 10 days later or 8 years later. Sometimes it feels like the world is ours and nothing else matters. Like we understand each other so well we need only to look at each other’s eyes or squeeze each other’s hands or rub each other’s shoulders. Sometimes it feels like we can talk for hours, for days, for weeks, as if we’ll continue to discover new things about the world every day. Sometimes it feels like wanting to slow things down because every moment is way too precious.

Sometimes it feels like I am going to get myself hurt again. Sometimes it feels like I have found what I have been looking for. Sometimes it feels like I will cry again. Sometimes it feels like having the chance to laugh out loud and having fun. Sometimes it feels worrying—like risking my heart to be crushed into pieces again. Sometimes it feels liberating—like not caring about the future because the now is effing awesome. Sometimes it feels like I am going to lose you anytime soon. Sometimes it feels like we’ll be like this for a very long time. Sometimes it feels confusing because I have no idea about what is actually happening. Sometimes it feels relaxing because things just happen naturally, without anyone forcing.

Yes, sometimes it feels like that.

But most of the time, it feels like being thankful.
Like being blessed.
Like being happy.

I stop making promises because nobody knows what the future holds. I stop making promises because promises are over-rated. I stop making promises because I don’t want to lie. I stop making promises because I don’t think it’s necessary. I stop making promises because promises aren’t real. I stop making promises because the only thing that is real, the only thing that I know for sure, and the only thing that I can give you is the now. I stop making promises because I know that it’s impossible for a person or a feeling to not change or evolve over time. I stop making promises because I know forever doesn’t last.

I stop making promises because what’s important is this moment. I stop making promises because I want you to know that the moment I say I love you I really feel it right there and then. I stop making promises because I miss you right now—not tomorrow or the week after or the month after. I stop making promises because I know that nothing is certain. I stop making promises because I know how bad it feels when things don’t go as planned. I stop making promises because it hurts much more when someone doesn’t do what one has promised to do. I stop making promises because you are too precious to be kept waiting.

I stop making promises because there’s no better place for me to be but here, and no more perfect moment for me to seize but now. I stop making promises because honestly, I don’t know whether I could really keep them. I stop making promises because I don’t believe that fairy tales ended at The End. I stop making promises because life is full of surprises. I stop making promises because you’ll meet a lot of interesting people in your life and I’ll be meeting a lot of interesting people in my life—and so, who knows? I stop making promises because we are here to stay when we feel like it and we are free to leave when we feel like it.

I stop making promises because it doesn’t matter. I stop making promises because of your feeling matters. I stop making promises because the clock is ticking. I stop making promises because people spend too much time worrying about the future and whining about now. I stop making promises because we still have a long way to go. I stop making promises because the last thing I want is for me to tie you down or for you to tie me down. I stop making promises because I know freedom is one thing that we both cherish; either the freedom to be here or the freedom to be anywhere but here.

I stop making promises because when it’s time for us to disintegrate, we should disintegrate beautifully—with no burden, no guilty feeling. I stop making promises because you cannot tell how everything will turn out. I stop making promises because I believe in us. I stop making promises because we are committed enough to keep each other at arm’s-length; to give each other enough space. I stop making promises because it means nothing. I stop making promises because I don’t want to live in a dream. I stop making promises because we should not be bound by a vague idea about what we expect to happen. I stop making promises because I may leave you one day and you may leave me one day and we should be able to do so without having to end up feeling terrible.

I stop making promises because I want to say the things that I know, the things that I feel, and these things are all in the now: when I look at you staring back at me. I stop making promises because you deserve to know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And this, no matter how straightforward this may sound, this is the truth.

I write because I want to remember you.

I write because I don’t want to forget the pleasant feeling of seeing you for the very first time. I write because I want to bring back the butterflies. I write because I can still remember the way you casually said hello and how mesmerized I was with the way you kept your cool. I write because I want to reread our conversations and flip the pages every now and then to see how far we’ve come. I write because I want to greet you in the morning and spend time with you in the evening.

I write because I know that my words can fit inside your jacket’s pocket where your palms are resting. I write because I miss you. I write because I want to talk to you at times when you are not around. I write because I want to comfort you and cheer you up, but I can’t fly that far to where you are. I write because I want to share the highlights of my life with you.

I write because I know there are fifty percent chance that you’ll come across it and another fifty percent chance that you’ll actually care.

I write because I want you to know that I’m thinking of you. I write because I want to hug you but I can’t. I write because I see all these beautiful things and all those things remind me of you. I write because it makes me feel closer to you. I write because words are all I have. I write because I can’t get you out of my mind. I write because I can’t get you out of my heart.

I write because you can keep these words even long after I’m gone. I write because one day, whether things will work out between us or not, I’ll put these words underneath your door. I write because when that day comes, I want to show you how much you have always been loved.

There were times in life when love took off, leaving you behind. No matter how careful you’ve been, it seems like there’s always something that manages to slip through the cracks. All of a sudden, love—the love you think you’ve known so well, had gone. And there, you were left alone: sad, depressed, confused, angry, disappointed, brokenhearted…

You kept on questioning what went wrong, when things started to crumble, how come you didn’t notice the signs earlier. And there were moments when you felt as if this was the end of it. That you won’t be able to forget the one who left, that you won’t be able to love again, that you would never feel the same way about someone new ever again, that you won’t be able to move on.

But the truth is: love (like everything else), too, shall pass. It might take an excruciating 6 months, a year, five years, or even fifteen to fifty years, but it’ll pass. Either you’re moving on because you feel like the time has come, or because it’s the only thing you can do to survive, it really doesn’t matter. It. Will. Pass. At one time gently, leaving lovely memories; other times painfully, leaving scars you’ll bring along with you through life.

But life is always full of endings and beginnings.

One day, you’ll wake up in the morning realizing that your pillow is no longer damp from last night’s tears; understanding that this is it. This is the day when you’ve let love pass through you, to let it transform and give life to something new. Something fresh. Something yet unknown—some love that is still waiting for you at the other side of hope.