A Penny for My Pensieve

This Ramadan unusually brings uneasy feeling.

Nothing about the fasting, it’s just the feeling.

It’s nothing big, just the uneasy feeling here and there, now and then, all through this month. Or maybe it started way before that.

It feels like nothing is going well. Little things that missed the point, curable but still doesn’t feel right. There’s always been something off for the past few 20 days of this Ramadan that cause continuous anxiety. Everything seems fine but nothing really works right.

The missing shoelaces. Bought new ones, problems with delivery. Took out the long kept tea pot from the cupboard, broke it right away while it hit the sink tap. Missed a crucial point of an important appointment and that makes the anxiety stays for days (until now). A blocked bank card due to forgotten PIN.

Being in this situation once again reminds me how little control we have for everything in life. No matter how meticulous the preparation and the plan, things still could turn out to be not as we expected.

Looking back all the pattern that has been going in my life, it usually relates to things that I plan doing for others but end up forgotten or changed mind due to insignificant reasons. Usually, if I have that intention then just cancel it for any reasons, life will take it exactly the same amount what I plan to give without my permission, in any ways possible.

In spite of the pain, I love that my warning always comes quick and brief. What becomes longer is my dialogue on the praying mat at the end of night. I keep auditing myself for everything. The only consolation that I could seek from. Especially when the last 10 days of Ramadan are here.

I have been wanting to write this for days. I am glad I finally did.

I want to say hoping everything would get better, but instead, I think I would ask for the strength to face whatever things coming. Amin.

(Insert heavy breathing).

21 Ramadan 1444H.

To put the balance from the previous post.

Is there any such thing about it?

Indeed.

The worst thing is when it’s Ramadan and you’re not fasting.

I am not talking about judgement towards anything or anyone, but, when the period comes. In my case, physically and mentally, I feel so much uncomfortable when I don’t fast more than when I do.

The headache, the urge to lay down all day doing nothing, being exempted from any rituals like salah and tilawah, and no excitement towards ifthar. It’s funny that I feel more thirsty when I don’t fast more than when I do until I keep refilling my glass all day. My tummy keeps growling loudly all day as if it hasn’t being fed for days. These are quite frustrating actually.

I’ve been fasting regularly since 2003, so it’s been around 20 years already. My regular is the Monday-Thrusday sunnah one. It becomes the days that I look forward to in a week. When the period comes, I am always be quick to finish it until I could take the compulsory bathing few times in two days just because I want to resume all the rituals as soon as possible.

When I think more about this, I guess it’s not only about the fast or the salah itself. I think it’s more about how uncomfortable to live without any limits. Days without five times prayers feel longer and it’s totally not excited when you have nothing to look forward to. Weeks without Monday-Thursday fast are less appealing because there’s no break from regular eating.

As a moslem, I find that many of us tend to plan something according to prayer time. The remarks “after dzuhur”, “before maghrib” are quite common here. The more I thought about it, that five times prayers are actually daily discipline training. I tend to finish any works to do according to these prayers time.

Instead of burden, the five times prayers are actually ones who give rest between the busy schedule. Just like a piece of music, what makes meaning in a song is not only the notes which produce melodies, but also the silence from the rest sign.

It goes the same with fasting. That instant full tummy feeling right after small ifthar consists of a cup of hot tea, a piece of date, and a scoop of rice tell that we don’t need much to make us fulfilled.

The more I learn, the more I think it’s such a privilege to be a moslem. Both daily prayer and fasting included among five pillars of Islam are not by accident or randomly picked, but truly carefully design by the best Life Designer Himself.

Things that we see as something that we’re being asked to do (or restricted from) are actually everything that we exactly need to live well. It’s more liberating than restricting. It’s more make sense than we could’ve imagined.

(I could go on with zakat, it’s on the draft, but, it’s trickier to put the words about that than I thought).

This post is surprisingly the first instantly written and published one after a while. Then, a blessing in disguise of not fasting, eh?

Finished this writing on 7Q bus BLOK M-PGC. One that I have never tried before during my post school-delivery morning walk.

Have a nice day!

The bus stop in front of Brawijaya Hospital Duren Tiga, 9 Ramadan 1444H.

It’s been a while since this post is on my draft. It supposed to be a post with few lists. But, I couldn’t manage to finish it after several trials.

Something what happened in the little girl’s therapy sessions triggered me to finish this. Also another hard conversation happened in the family last week too.

So, the therapist asked her about what compliments you can give to daddy and she mentioned severals like he’s a good cook and a good anesthesiologist. Then, the next question was about what compliments you can give to mommy. She gave a long pause and said something that was totally unclear. Even I didn’t really understand that myself.

It reminded me with what happened in the family last week between the doctor and his brothers. One of them ‘accused’ their mother for not having enough time for him just because she didn’t text him for a week or two.

Their mother was quite furious about such brutal accusation. Day after, she sent text to the doctor telling him how hurt she was and explained everything that she has been done.Oh, how I totally understand her.

If there’s one person who everyone is so often take for granted is mother. A mother who takes care everything at home so everyone could function properly outside.

Coming home to a tidy and clean house, everything is well-managed, even a single thank you rarely heard. Maybe it’s on the gene, or let’s not blame the gene, but it’s totally depend on the person.

I totally understand why the little girl could mention the compliments for her father, who has, so little time with her, better than her mother, who is on her side 24/7. A mother who do everything with her and for her. It’s simply because someone discussed her father with her, but no one discussed her mother with her until not even a single thing she could mention clearly. Partly, it’s also due to not enough examples given how to appreciate her mother enough and better.

It’s actually a warning sign too for us. What have the parents been doing until an 8yo was so clueless about giving proper and simple appreciation to someone who takes care of her daily?

How easy to take people for granted if they are always there. Taking care little things that are not considered as well as important as the big job outside or things that happen daily which is hard to notice compared to something that happen rarely so it seems so big.

This is why I think mothers or anyone who takes care everything and everyone should be selfish. Try to not put themselves lasts. Do more what they think contributes to their peace of mind. No matter how loud the ustad saying how huge the reward for mother would be, that is not enough.

The bitter pill that they have to swallow and should be accepted and understood is she could take care of everyone and everything but no one would take care of and care about them other than themselves. So, one that every mother should take care the most is herself. Do it for themselves, not for everyone else.

(A very good post from a blog I recently followed related to this).

The more I read, the more I totally understand the grey divorce. How old mothers suddenly ask for divorce after all the children are out of home. They endured more than enough for everyone’s peace of mind along the years.

(About the divorce, couldn’t help adding another beautifully written post by the other Dame Maggie Smith).

But, strangely, I find the over glorification about how great mothers are, is as well cringe. I love the quote from one of my recents readings, which I really forgot which, it says,

“Mothers matter, but it doesn’t make any difference”.

I agree too with this one. In the end, we could only do our best. Whatever happen later with the kid or even ourself, that’s not something for us to decide. Not the slightest control on us about the result.

We have heard enough a kid from nobody becomes somebody while one from respectable family end up being in jail.

In one of my unpopular opinions inside my head, it’s more important to use the head more than the heart when it comes to do what you should do, that you choose on your own. Just remember the responsibilities attached to your roles, then just do it. Most of the time, your feeling is only important to you. It’s something that I feel hard to teach my daughter about because she really cares about the feeling. It’s not bad at all, with terms and conditions.

(That childfree campaign, don’t really agree on that, but totally understand about that).

Well, I guess it’s enough for this.

Other than the problem above, Ramadan is here and that’s another thing often being taken for granted. Many forget how precious it is to be given a chance to meet another Ramadan, in good health, safe and sound.

Another Ramadan is not just another year of fasting session. It’s a precious opportunities to experience this month full of blessings once again that should be treated as it is the most important time of the year. Few past years, I remind myself harder about this.

May this year Ramadan brings more blessings and hope everyone has a joyful one!

Amin.

Jakarta, 3 Ramadan 1444H

I was stuck in the traffic jam after school drop, which is not surprising during even date. Not quite real traffic, just long and long traffic light. Three times red light within few meters.

My mind wandered to the past and couldn’t help going through the memory lane when school drop and pick up looked like this.

Stuck in the traffic shouldn’t be a happy situation, but, the control is always on our hand. Looking back to these pictures, instead of sad, I felt happy. And grateful. Instead of wishing the situation now would be like those pictures, I am grateful I had it once. I was truly living all the idea that once only happened inside my head. I found comfort in Dr Seuss words , “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened”.

I actually don’t have any complaints stuck in the traffic jam after school drop. This is one thing I surely miss later in the future. So, I’ll enjoy all the red light while it lasts.

I’ve always drawn about everything related to French. Many reasons have been written here in the past.

Raised by a french teacher gave significant impact to me more than any of my siblings. From the parenting, way of life, and many little things that my late mother did really goes along the way and it influences about the way I raise my little girl now, consciously and unconsciously.

From being adventerous about eating, being strict about sleeping, being details about footwear, the love for pastries and cake, make her wait for everything, that’s why I said before how amazed I was when I read the famous Bringing Up Bébe for the first time. Knowing everything that I have done, those things are done by a whole country, which I thought previously it was only and solely from my mother.

Recently, I just finished a book about a woman who wrote a story how her student exchange experiences in Paris gave meaningful and profound lessons to her and just like me, it gave enormous insight and influence to how she lives her life and raise her kids too. She learned so much from the family she lived with and wrote three books about it. How many pages that I felt like doing high five with her.

I found few pages that really hit home, like these :

There are lots of things that make French parenting and way of life make sense, for me. No matter how much I read about it, I could read another and still find new perspectives from the same method. I am totally blessed to be raised such method although I live thousands miles away from the country.

It might relate to this (or not), but, at the beginning of this week, me and the doctor talked about one of my close relatives.

This aunt of mine has been a ‘fan’ of my mother’s parenting for a very long time. When we look from one side, it seems that she looked up to my mother when it comes to raising children, but on the other side, she was actually someone who tried to beat whatever my mother did with a better result, which was not bad actually.

I was once her benchmark for things like school. His only son went to the same junior high school, to the same music school. She is the real example of true tiger mom. An authorarian and helicopter type at the same time. Study is number one and anything that could disrupt it should be eliminated.

Knowing how ambitious she was, her son obviously did very much better than me and my siblings did. But, it wasn’t surprising at all since she made him worked ten times harder than us. Day and night, weekdays or weekend. No wonder his achievements were all over the places. Always top of the class, yearly rank concert, student exchange to US, volunteering in Middle East, and many other flashy achievements that no one in the family could achieve.

Meanwhile, none of my mother’s kids achieve such things. We were (and are) just ordinary kids that sat on the top ten without too much pressure. Enough time to play and biking around. Didn’t join any other extracurricular activities other than piano lesson (three of us). My mother concerned more if we couldn’t function well at home on our own more than doing well at school. When my cousin was busy doing his lessons, we were busy with lots of chores at home. My aunt was very proud of her son’s achievements and said it loudly. But, what could be bragged from children that are capable of doing chores?😂

Fast forward few years, her son studied at the university and became the doctor’s junior at Faculty of Medecine. I happened to be married to the doctor and I didn’t know when it started, a new benchmark formed. This time is not only me but also my whole family.

From one of the doctor’s colleagues who happens to have quite close relationships to my aunt (they are neighbors), my aunt has been really obsessed about everything that my family do. The way I raise the little girl, how much the doctor’s made, which hospitals he works at, which area we bought our house is, she is pretty curious about us and little things that we do or have.

I felt there were few starting line when this behavior grew. First, when the doctor became a staff consultant of national hospitals in his department after he finished his residency. Second, when we ‘suddenly’ moved to London and he didn’t go for study, but for working. Those two were something that her son couldn’t (or hasn’t) achieve(d) (yet).

It doesn’t stop with the doctor. She also started comparing her granddaughter to the little girl. What kind of lessons she took, what kind of achievements she got, etc.

She sounds so dissatisfied and disappointed because his son couldn’t achieve things like above or some other things in his personal life. The pressure is really hard on my cousin and I felt sorry for him because her mother really projects all her disappointment on him. She told the doctor’s colleague of how his son couldn’t act like a real adult in daily life, couldn’t handle his personal and little important things well, but maybe most of all, he couldn’t meet the benchmark she set based on other’s achievement. It indeed doesn’t feel comfortable when we put other’s shoes on our own feet. It’s hard to be happy too that way.

From my perspective, my cousin is doing okay. He’s fully capable and functional adult, but maybe, he might need a bit of help to get out of his mother pressure and expectations. He might need more space to be free from his mother (and all the helps she gives, until now).

I won’t discuss further but this feels like a wake up call for me. To reflect back everything that I do to the little girl. I am far from tiger, but, I sense there are some characteristics of my aunt that I see in myself. It’s not surprising too actually, knowing that both my aunt and my father shared the same father.

My late grandpa from my father side was a disciplined man and he really thought highly about academic and career achievements. He was once a Bank Indonesia employee and expected his kids to follow his directions. He measured his children (and their spouses) mostly from those things. It’s totally understandable that all my father’s siblings are doing well in that area. Of course, there are buts too. So, what my aunt did was actually just the extension of what she got from her parents.

This shows me that parenting is like an infinite game which the finish line couldn’t be seen in the short term and its influence doesn’t stop in one generation. It will keep going to the next generation and it takes conscious effort to fix what should be fixed. It doesn’t matter how well the child is doing at the start, but it matters more how they would be doing as an adult. Preparing the child to be an adult is the parents biggest homeworks, which often being forgotten by most of us.

Looking at this case, I feel like to remind myself as a mother of the little girl that she’s more than anything that could be measured. She’s not defined by anything that she achieves or doesn’t achieve. My job here is to raise her well within my and our best abilities and it’s never up to me and us how she will end up later in life.

Back to the book I read above, another page explains well what I want for my daughter :

I hope later I forgive myself for everything that I have and haven’t done in raising the little girl and leave the rest to whatever things life assigned to her and find peace with that. I hope no single tiny resentment about everything she would become of. Amin.

Parked my car in little girl’s school while enjoying the morning sunshine from the car and listening to Friday’s storytelling sessions from the students. It’s getting hot here and I think it’s time to go home.

Bon weekend!