Peace, My Heart...

I dedicate these two Rabindranath Tagore poems for my friend 'Hafiz' who is currently into his 'little India' journey. May Allah ya Jamil be with you, dearest friend... Ishq Allah ya Jamil, Insya Allah we shall meet again...

There Is Room for You

There is room for you. You are alone with your few sheaves of rice.
My boat is crowded, it is heavily laden, but how can I turn you
away? Your young body is slim and swaying; there is a twinkling
smile in the edge of your eyes, and your robe is coloured like the
rain cloud.

The travelers will land for different roads and homes. You
will sit for a while on the prow of my boat, and at the journey's
end none will keep you back.

Where do you go, and to what home, to garner your sheaves? I
will not question you, but when I fold my sails and moor my boat
I shall sit and wonder in the evening, -Where do you go, and to
what home, to garner your sheaves?

~ Rabindranath Tagore, 'Lover's Gifts VIII'


Peace, My Heart

Peace, my heart, let the time for
the parting be sweet.

Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.

Let the flight through the sky end
in the folding of the wings over the nest.

Let the last touch of your hands be
gentle like the flower of the night.

Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a
moment, and say your last words in silence.

I bow to you and hold up my lamp
to light you on your way.

~ Rabindranath Tagore, 'The Gardener LXI'

Pic: 'Traveller' by Anastasiya Markovich, Wikipedia

Too Beautiful for Words…

How do I start? How do I tell you how Blackest Night Wonder Woman # 3 wraps itself so beautifully that my heart is filled with the warm glow of love? Maybe by saying thank you (again) to Greg Rucka (story), Nicola Scott (art), Jonathan Glapion (ink) and Nei Ruffino (colour).

The first pages said it all: Wonder Woman’s love to all creation is her greatest asset. Star Sapphire Carol Ferris delivered the truth, that although Diana was the only hero possessed by a black ring when the violet ring searched for her, Diana could break through and reach out. “Enough of you remained that the violet could reach you, and that you could do what no one else could do… and reach back. That’s never happened before.”

And that is because of “The love [Diana] carry for…for everything, for the entirety of creation…it’s limitless. I’ve never encountered anything like it.” Carol Ferris, I second your notion. It might sound cheesy, but Diana is truly the embodiment of love, and she should befriend Kabir, Jalaluddin Rumi, Hafiz, Khalil Gibran and Rabindranath Tagore, were those great poets still alive by now.

Unlike Blackest Night WW#1 which was ‘interrupted by Blackest Night #5 before you can understand BN WW#2, the story in #3 follows right through the previous issue. Wonder Woman marveled at her beautiful violet ring… "Too beautiful for words", but dare I say that Nicola Scott’s art above pretty much represents itself.

BN WW#3 also showed Diana’s humour (or is that Rucka’s? Or both?). I like the way Greg Rucka wrote Wonder Woman during his run, but his Diana was rather too sombre then. Now in BN WW, Rucka progressed by showing that Diana is not only honourable; she’s also funny. Not the plastic sense of humour a la Plastic Man or Flash (animated version), neither Alfred Pennyworth’s British sense of humour, but funny nonetheless. Almost akin to the way Gail Simone writes WW’s sense of humour. Anyway. Diana ran into Max Lord… long story short, as Max said ‘Woof! I like the girls who play rough!”, Wonder Woman punched his zombie body with a now-classical line, “I’m not a GIRL, Max!”. Then as Max’ skull launched another innuendo (‘So…what’re you doing after?’), Diana just kicked his skull around. Heh. Another writer who could portray Diana’s unique sense of humour was Joe Kelly during his JLA runs. Wonder Woman joked around with Batman and Plastic Man in different ways, and laughed when Faith asked if she dated Superman. Really funny, if you ask me.

Wonder Woman’s preference towards non violence was clearly shown as she later encountered an angry Mera. As an Amazon, it was not difficult for her to defeat Mera. But since Mera already transformed into a Red Lantern, a being fed by anger, it would be hard for Diana (even with her new violet ring) to curb down Mera’s assaults. Carol put it in perspective as “She’s a Red Lantern. You can’t calm that kind of rage!”

Yet, Diana persisted. She made a violet dome, locked herself in with the wrathful Mera, and reasoned with her. Yes, Mera attacked her, yes Diana had to dodge and steer to protect herself, but she stood corrected. Her ring tried to see beneath Mera’s anger and hatred, but couldn’t. At least couldn’t do it alone. Thus, Wonder Woman took out her lasso and showed her friend the truth.

And the truth was revealed. Apparently the combination of Diana’s Lasso of Truth and the Star Sapphire ring revealed Mera’s hidden hatred towards herself. It related to Arthur Curry Aquaman (Mera’s husband), their baby (who might be dead?) and the love between Arthur and Mera, which I think is very very lovely (and boy, what a hot kiss they shared there!). I don’t know a lot about the DC Atlantis tales (weird, since I’m a marine biologist…), but it turned out that Mera’s anger originated from her hatred towards herself (whatever the issues were between her and her husband). As Diana later suggested, the only way to address it is by telling the truth.

Since she couldn’t accept that telling her husband the truth would be a new beginning, Mera volleyed back at Diana. “The Lasso showed me your heart the same way it showed you mine. What is the truth there?” What was Diana’s inner truth that Mera saw? Here we go…


“You never spoke a word,” said Mera, to which Diana replied with, “Because there was nothing that ever needed saying. And even if there had been…” Diana slowly cast her eyes down in regret, “… it’s too late for that, now.”

She then looked up again and touched Mera’s shoulder. “But perhaps not for you. Not if we survive the night.” Diana meant that it was not too late for Mera, for she could still tell Aquaman that she loves him and wants him back. I would, if I were Mera.

Non Batwondy readers will be confused, but a Batwondy fan like me immediately understood that Diana referred to her ‘friendship only’ resolution with Batman in JLA#90 (DC comics, issued in November 2003) more than 6 years ago (really, that long?!). We Bruce/Diana fans always felt that the resolution was forced and ended abruptly. It still feels forceful to read many DC issues where Bruce and Diana are mere friends. Worse, the Trinity arc stated that Diana saw him as her brother. Please. Quoting one of my colleagues at the BMWWArkham (I forgot whom, a while ago)… ‘I never looked at my brother the way Diana looked at Bruce’. So true.

Anyway. Doesn’t matter now, does it? Because Bruce Wayne, the Batman, is dead. That’s why Diana said that it was too late now. Too late to tell him that she actually loved, loves him as a woman loves a man.

But, oh wait! We know that Bruce Wayne is still alive! We know that he shall return! We just don’t know how…yet. And when he does return from the dead… will DC let Bruce/Diana romance blossom… or just kill it with another dream machine a la JLA#90, or another lame excuse?

I honestly don’t know. It’s very easy to fall into despair as well. But hey… Bruce/Diana stories, or hints of it, have survived since the 80s during the Brave and the Bold and JLA series, slowly but sure tailing and rivaling the Bruce/Selina or Clark/Diana stories. There is no reason to fear that anyone can kill Bruce/Diana romance now. They can try, but I have faith that Batwondy romance will live on. At least in fanfictions. And – with Blackest Night Wonder Woman as the latest official record – it’s good enough for me…

Several more notes. My beta reader Hepburn said that she thought very highly of Nicola’s way of depicting Bruce and Diana gazing lovingly at each other. I have to agree. I love Bruce and Diana kissing in BN WW#2, but their silent gazing was also beautiful and poetic. The hot kiss was crowned to Arthur and Mera this time though. Boy, I never paid attention to this couple, but they’re a hot old married couple! They’re like Spiderman and Mary-Jane Parker; meant for each other…

Secondly, Nicola Scott’s mother passed away recently (see Gail Simone’s message in CBR). Nicola has painted a very beautiful artwork for her mother in Facebook. Please pray for her and her family, for she has not only given many of us joy with her lovely works, but she’s also a wonderful woman in her own rights…

I close this post with a poem of love. I was tempted to find something from Odysseus, but I’m no expert in Greek romance. Hence, I pulled out an old poem from India’s Rabindranath Tagore. I can easily picture Bruce Wayne, somewhere in Iraqi desert 9,000 years back in the past, gazing at the diadem night sky and reciting this poem for Diana.

I Dreamt

I dreamt that she sat by my head, tenderly ruffling my hair with
her fingers, playing the melody of her touch. I looked at her face
and struggled with my tears, till the agony of unspoken words burst
my sleep like a bubble.

I sat up and saw the glow of the Milky Way above my window,
like a world of silence on fire, and I wondered if at this moment
she had a dream that rhymed with mine.

All pictures are from Blackest Night Wonder Woman #3, story by Greg Rucka, art by Nicola Scott, ink by Jonathan Glapion, and colour by Nei Ruffino.

The Spiritual Kiss

I still have the Kiss shared by Batman and Wonder Woman in Blackest Night Wonder Woman #2 (now officially a holy book for Batwondy fans!) lingering in my mind, despite it took place in a virtual reality created by Lady Aphrodite to contain a rampaging Black Lantern WW (see the previous post to make sense of it). Hence, this post.

And I promise you that this post will still be confusing for non DC comic readers or JL Animated cartoon watchers. Heck, it’s likely to confuse my fellow Batwondy fans, even! But I need to address this. I need to share with you why I see the kiss as beyond physical. Why I see it as reaching a spiritual level as well.

To do so, I need to make some disclaimers:

1. I don’t see anything wrong with seeing the kiss as very sexy. God, it IS very sexy. Alluring. Seducing. Nicola Scott really knows how to draw a sexy yet poetic kiss. I’m glad she’s with DC now.

2. Some references I shall make here will confuse many readers, particularly those unaccustomed with Vedic tradition, a very generic tradition I’m about to source. It’s not that these examples can only be found in Vedic books; I am certain that other traditions have some similar examples as well. I shall try my best to explain with my understanding that stems out of love.

3. As I will use these references in love, I shall disagree with fellow Vedic followers who might think of this post as a sacrilege or blasphemy, for trying to link human love with divine love. For… ah… where is the line, actually? Our true, pure, unconditional human love is basically a divine love as well, and a divine love can only be understood if we humans have experienced human love.

Enough of confusing you, now let’s start.

I see the kiss between Batman and Wonder Woman in BN WW#2 as beyond physical, entering spiritual plane, because (among others) I can see its similarities with the love and passions shared by Shiva and Parvati in the saga of Kali. I say ‘among others’ because there are many occasions where you would kiss your beloved and experience a spiritual sensation, in addition to physical one, thus blurring the lines human and divine loves. I can feel those sensations, so I don’t see why you can’t reach it. You must have done it even at least once in your life. Kissing someone so deep, you know it’s not a mere kiss.

Now, who are Shiva and Parvati? Vedic cosmology 101: Shiva is most famously known as the ‘last’ of the Trinity, the Greatest Divine Powers (in addition to Brahma the Creator and Vishnu the Caretaker). Shiva is mostly known as the Destroyer (because one of his jobs is to recycle everything back to zero), although he has at least 108 names attached to him; more than half of which refer to his blissful and glorious traits: The Auspicious One, Conqueror of Death, Lord of the Dance (Nataraj), Bearer of the Ganges (Gangadhara), etc. Lady Uma or Parvati is Shiva’s consort, or Shakti (the Feminine Energy). Parvati is often depicted as a very nurturing and (also) alluring All Mother. Her second version is called Durga – a warrior goddess riding a white Himalayan tiger and carrying multiple weapons. I love this Mother Durga, I can relate to her easily (I even saw a fan-art of Wonder Woman with her lion pet, makes me relate to her more!).

Parvati’s third version is Kali, the Terrible Beauty. Once there was Raktabija, a terrible demon who can’t be killed (you chop his head and – as his spilled blood hit the ground – his blood will grow lots of his clones). The only way to kill him is by drinking his blood out clean, and that’s when Kali was needed. Durga morphed into Kali (or some legends said Kali emerged from Durga’s third eye,) as a terrible dark beauty of long matted hair and stuck out tongue, wearing a garland of skulls. Kali slaughtered Raktabija and his clones, drinking their blood clean. Problem solved…not. Because Kali was a primal force, she could not stop. She went on to threaten the heaven, almost killing the devas, until her husband Shiva stepped in.


In the traditional depiction, Shiva pretended to be Kali’s enemy and let her almost crushing his chest with her feet. But then, as Kali was about to do so, she suddenly realized that she was about to trample her own beloved. Kali’s anger disappeared and the real Parvati re-emerged. There is another version where Shiva morphed into a little child and, with his cry, tamed Kali who then picked the child and nurtured him. But for the sake of comparison with Batman and Wonder Woman, I stick with the first version.

Of course there are differences between the events in BN WW#2 and the legend of Kali. BN WW involves humans (in DCU) and the legend of Kali involves Deities. Wonder Woman in the Blackest Night was affected by a dark power, hence almost killing her friends. Mother Kali was different; she appeared out of choice from Parvati/Durga to save the universe. But both feminine entities need something graceful to take them out of their trance. Both Diana and Kali needed love to bring them back into the light. In the case of Kali, it was her husband Shiva. In the case of Diana, it was Bruce, who is not even officially romantically related to her.

The bluish pictures below (originals are purplish; blame my scanner) are not the traditional pictures depicting Shiva and Kali; these are from The Book of Shiva, a comic book created by Deepak Chopra, beautifully written by Saurav Mohapatra, and gorgeously pencilled by Abishek Singh. For this entry's purpose, I like this team’s interpretation because it really showed me the romantic side of Shiva/Parvati and Kali’s inner struggle before re-emerged as Parvati (see my older review about The Book of Shiva here). Side by side with BN WW#2, I hope you see the similarities between them.

The lovers came to help the beloved back into light.


The spark of recognition...



















...and Surrender into Love...


Go back to the Kiss. Why do I call the kiss between Bruce and Diana as a spiritual kiss as well (in addition to a very hot sensual kiss?). Because the kiss symbolizes or triggers elevated awareness. In comparison to Shiva-Kali, there was no kiss in the Shiva-Kali story. But – as in BN WW#2 – there were exchanged looks. There were sparks of recognition. And from there, came the light and understanding.

In the case of Bruce and Diana kissing in BN WW#2, although it only happened in a virtual reality created by Aphrodite, I don’t think the Goddess herself purposely invited Bruce’s image to enter the reality. Aphrodite might ‘only’ program it so that Diana’s subconscious invited her loved ones to come and stop her. The fact that Bruce’s appearance was the one triggering Diana’s awareness means that it was Bruce who was ‘powerful’ enough to drag Diana out of her dark self. Diana’s realization process did not start when she kissed Bruce. Rather, the kiss was the ultimate act that brought back her love for all creation.

I hope you understand my ramblings. And yet, I also understand if my explanations here seem to be in vain. For how can such beauty be expressed in words? Words can only capture parts of it, if not reducing its beauty…

To close this entry, I’d like to quote Batman’s comment when Diana asked him to have faith, that Phobos, Deimos and Eris (children of Ares God of War) would not take Gotham City ('Gods of Gotham' by Phil Jimenez). Batman said: “I don’t need faith Princess, when I have you.”

It seems that in this case, Batman is not the only one who has faith in Wonder Woman. Turns out, Diana also has faith in Bruce. And that kiss of faith shows it.


All Batman & Wonder Woman arts are by Nicola Scott (story by Greg Rucka)
All contemporary Shiva Parvati arts are by Abishek Singh (story by Saurav Mohapatra)
Pic2: Shiva-Parvati, forgot the source, taken long ago, sorry...
Pic3: the classical iconography of Kali and Shiva, from flickr.com

In Darkness, Love must Triumph

Okay. My regular readers will not understand why I branch out to comic book this time, but if you read my first (and the only entry so far) about this topic here, you will begin to understand. Or so I hope. Anyway. Doesn’t matter. For I am ECSTATIC!!! Thank you so much, Greg Rucka! God bless you!

Okay. Ahem. Get back on trail. I’ve been on high like this since yesterday, since I picked up my Wonder Woman #39 and Blackest Night WW#2 from my local comic shop. I belatedly read WW#39 because I was away for a month, but still… I salute thee, Gail Simone, for wrapping the gigantic Warkiller arc magnificently. Thank you.

Enters Blackest Night Wonder Woman #2. I started this arc, superbly written by Greg Rucka and beautifully penciled by Nicola Scott, with no intention to read the main Blackest Night stories, for it just gives me headache. Thank God for Wikipedia. But I was, still am, more than willing to read the WW tie-ins, for… hey, it’s Wonder Woman! Plus, Greg Rucka was a respected WW writer, clearly still in love with Diana, and he’s been communicating with Gail Simone as well, so the characterization fits in. Blackest Night WW#1 – where Diana fought against the resurrected Maxwell Lord whom she killed to save a mind-controlled Superman – was amazing. I don’t have the book with me, but it just reaffirms my belief in Wonder Woman. In Diana, in her faith in Love.

Comes Blackest Night WW#2, just a week or so ago, and it shows Wonder Woman morphed into a Black Lantern after she was infected by that black ring. As the bearer of the black ring, Diana almost killed Mera, Queen of the Atlantis. She also seemed to Wonder Girl, Donna Troy and even Hippolyta, until a Batarang flew and stopped her.

Batman (Bruce Wayne version) stepped in and told her to stop. The Black Diana refused and had another fight with him, but the real Diana within realized that it cannot be... for "Bruce is dead..."

But here’s the fun part. So far I know, the black ring’s power can only be broken by a force more powerful than its own. In Diana’s case, it should be the power of Love, which is represented as a violet ring in the DC term. Violet ring also belongs to the Star Sapphire Corps, which strangely does not include male heroes, for apparently DC thinks that males are incapable of loving (I strongly disagree, of course). Now, in BN WW#1, Diana used her Lasso of Truth to dispel Max Lord’s army. But seems that the lasso did not function when she was infected by the black ring. Diana needs another source of love to break free, and her subconscious chose Bruce Wayne, the Batman.


And the Batman in her mind said the same thing that the real Batman would: “Stop it, Diana. Now. This isn’t you, Princess.”

Diana wrestled him, but then, hands choking each other, she remembered not only that Bruce was dead… but that she loved him as well. Batman and Black Wonder Woman kissed, the Black Diana started to glow into the real Diana, and a strand of violet ray hit her.


It was a violet ring, bearer of the power of Love. And Lady Aphrodite, who had been protecting Diana from her dark self. Story told short, Diana took the violet ring, severed the connection with the black ring, and became a Star Sapphire.

What does the Batman mean here? If one read Comics Alliance’s review, one might agree that it was just the way DC portrays the Batman as the ultimate problem solver. But I don’t see it that way. I’ve been reading Greg Rucka’s Wonder Woman since Down to Earth, and I can see how he did not choose to present Batman in BN WW#2 randomly, nor that he sees Batman as the generic DC problem solver (hey, why don’t you ask Batman to stop the rampaging Superman then?).

No. Rucka sees what I and many other Bruce/Diana fans see: that they are truly compatible; that their friendship can actually extend to a beautiful love story. If allowed. Quoting Jane Donovan, my colleague from the Batman WW Arkham: "It is [Diana's] love for him that brings her back. Batman pulls Wonder Woman out of the darkness and into the light. The guy they always say is just too dark and gritty for her." Agree. Batman is actually the light in the dark, not the darkness it self.

And I have records for that. Just from Greg Rucka's WW: Sacrifice arc, where Superman punched Diana so hard, and what she thought was... Bruce. His battered body after nearly being slaughtered by Superman. Bruce and Bruce, until she slammed back to the Earth. And during the Down to Earth arc, Diana asked Batman to investigate the murder of a protester outside her embassy, with full approval from Alfred Pennyworth. (see NoahOz's site for an excellent compilation of BatWondy files throughout the DC publications).

You know what? I begin to really think that Rucka is secretly an admirer of Bat and Wondy! It is not a secret that DC will never let Diana and Bruce together, not in the mainstream universe at least. Even Gail Simone (bless her) has stated that she disagreed with Bruce/Diana pairing, except for elseworld stuffs (and I do respect her opinion). But here we have the first kiss scene after JLA's Obsidian Age, and I forever thank Rucka for that.

BN WW#2 also reminds me of how Rucka really loves Diana. Admittedly, there were times during his run a few years ago that I flinched, for it was very dark and desperate sometimes. But still, Rucka understands that Diana is truly the embodiment of ‘love for all creation’, and that what makes me love this book. It sets a different tone from the rest of the dark Blackest Night stories. I am also grateful for the traditional, loving depiction of Aphrodite. Rucka used to portray this Goddess of Love as a &#^@* with nothing but a roll of tissue covering tiny bits of her parts… but in this book, the Goddess was restored as the doe-eyed Embodiment of Love, pretty much the way George Perez and Phil Jimenez portrayed her. Thank you, Greg Rucka!


One last comment. I disagree with DC’s concept for Emotional Spectrum, which to me undermines the true meaning of those colors. Although I like the interpretation of several spectra (green for willpower, blue for hope, indigo for compassion), it seems to me that DC only sees some colors in terms of negativities. In this case: red for anger, orange for avarice, yellow for fear, violet/purple for unattained love. According to the true chakra system, all colors are beneficial to us, if maintained in balance. Red is about passion (but excessive red leads to anger), orange is for creativity (yet excessive orange leads to lust), yellow for wealth (but too much fire is no good either), green is for love (heart chakra), blue is for communication (throat chakra), indigo (brow chakra) for higher awareness and intuition, and purple (crown chakra) for pure consciousness. In this case, I agree with Comics Alliance that DC needs to have clear distinctions or definitions between compassion (indigo ring) and love (violet ring), for to me those words are interchangeable.

See, to me love is not a mere state of emotion. Love is a state of being. True love is not wobbly, it does not falter. Love is higher than any other emotions, and it can expel fear, for there is no fear when you have love within you. In this case, I can understand why Rucka (or DC) chose Wonder Woman as the bearer of a violet ring. Diana’s ability for universal love can give fresh meaning for the Star Sapphire Corps, from women who were hurt by ‘love’ into women (and men hopefully) who are the embodiment of true unconditional love.

“In darkness, love must survive,” said Aphrodite, encouraging Diana to take the violet ring. Wonder Woman took it; the violet ring shattered the connection of the black ring.

“It must do more…,” replied Diana as she flew to the sky in her new Star Sapphire uniform. “It must triumph.”

I can’t agree more! Thank you, Rucka! Thank you, DC!

All pix by Nicola Scott, ink by Jonathan Glapion, colour by Nei Ruffino (Blackest Night WW#2)

PS 25 January 2010:


I just remembered one thing. I got this scan from NoahOz's site, from BN WW#1 (arts by Nicola Scott). The funny thing about this pic: Batman's death was the ONLY death where Diana was NOT present (Diana was present in both Hippolyta's and Artemis's deaths). Yet Rucka showed it in the panel. Hah! He could've shown Donna Troy's instead... but he chose Batman's death there. Thanks Rucka!

PS 28 Jan 2010:

Check Rokk's Comic Book Revolution for another interesting review for this book, of course with approval for Batwondy pairing ^_^

I See You (A commentary of Avatar)

I’d been wanting to watch Avatar since the trailers hit cinemas in town, but in all honesty, I thought it was a violent movie about the natives versus the Almighty Americans (no offense my dearest American friends)… until I read Stephen Simon’s entry about Avatar in Holistic Asia, and realized that it was actually a spiritual movie.

Hence, I painted my eyes with glittering soft blue eye shadow, and onwards went to the local cinema here in Yogyakarta, making my way through the snaking queue of people in want of watching either Avatar, Sherlock Holmes (so not elementary, Watson!), and The Princess and the Frog (have to watch that one too!). I didn’t regret I spent almost half an hour in the queue.

James Cameron’s Avatar was a treat.

True, I sobbed a lot during the movie (guess which scenes?), ooh-ed and aah-ed during the beautiful panoramic views, shed silent tears when our hero and heroine made love under the sacred tree of love, and take my proverbial hat off at the fall of the Brave Trudy.

Avatar reminds me to see something as it is, instead of with my preconditions and perceptions. Paraphrasing Mo'at, Neytiri's mother and spiritual leader of the clan: “The Sky People do not want to learn from us. They came with the glass full.” Snicker. It reminds me of the old Zen tale whereby a disciple keep asking his Master about stuffs, and his master keeps pouring down the tea until it overflows and wet the disciple’s expensive robe.


“Master! Why keep pouring the tea? My cup is already full; it overflows!”

“Why keep asking me questions then?” replied the Master. “You already have your answers in your head.”

But more than that, Avatar made me realize that I was, am still, on the right path. The Path of Mother Earth. I’m one of her daughters, and it’s my duty and privilege to protect her, even from ourselves, her own children.


“You know where I came from,” Jake Sully said to the Soul Tree. “There’s nothing beautiful there. They killed their own mother.”

For the love of my life, Jake… I truly hope no Earthlings will ever need to say it. I truly hope we have not killed Mother Earth, Mother Gaia, Prativi Ma.

No, I am not blinded by all that happens in this planet. I am not blinded by the massive deforestations and ocean acidity, nor the rapid removal of many species. I am not deaf to the silent cry of Mother Earth. I weep with her. I weep and work for her.

But I still have hope that one day, if we are ever going to meet the Omaticaya of Pandora, we are going to greet them like this:

“Greetings, Brothers and Sisters. I See You. I come from another world, much like your own. And though we almost destroyed our own Mother, we managed to save her from ourselves. She is still alive and breathing joyfully, much like Eywa, much like your Great Mother. And I thank the Universe for that.”

I am not blinded by what happens in our planet; by what we have been doing to our Mother. But I still dare to hope for our chance.

Now, does Avatar still play in Sydney? I want to see it in 3D…

Pic 1: Avatar movie poster, Wikipedia
Pic 2: Zen master and his tea, from here
Pic 3: Seeds of the Soul Tree, by Phantasy Star Deviantart

What is Fear?

Fear is like a big scary guy that stops you right there and… and forces you to choose something else.

“You cannot go in here,” he says with guttural voice. “Leave. Take another path, left or right. Or… back off.”

But there is another choice. You look at him squarely in the eye and say:

“No. I want to go on. I want to move on. Please kindly step aside. You’re in my way.”

Say it sincerely with confidence. And, after what feels like a millennia,…he the Mr. Fear smiles, bows a bit, and gives way.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Be my guest.”

And behind him… there’s previously an unseen door, or even open space you name it… which is your true goal. Your true happiness you always seek.

Fear, it turns out, is not an enemy.

He is a big scary friend, but he’s a true friend nonetheless. Because he makes us realize what is more important: His scary form… or something behind him, a beautiful thing, state, person…your own self even…hidden from him.

Turns out…when you truly hug and embrace your fears, they do turn into beautiful flowers…

Meeting the Javanese Mother Mary

“Is Mother Mary a Catholic?” asked my 8 years old nephew innocently. I can’t help replying back with “God, what is your religion?” – something that he wouldn’t understand, in retrospective.

But that’s exactly the point. How do you explain to a child that it’s okay to visit a church, though you’re not officially a Christian? Or visiting a temple tho you’re not registered as a Buddhist or a Hindu? Or enjoying the coolness inside a mosque despite your chosen faith, for that matter?

Since when did it become a matter? Since when did I have to defend my rights to visit any sacred places, regardless of their religious/traditional affiliations? My mother was supremely elated when she found out that I visited the Temple Church of Ganjuran (Gereja Candi Ganjuran), a.k.a. Ganjuran Sacred Heart Church in Bantul, Yogyakarta. She and her second husband immediately related it to me becoming a Christian. How do I explain to her that one of my best friends in Bali often accompanies me to the local temple and she (happens to be a Christian) also prays in her own way?

I guess my mother has enough stuffs to ‘worry’ about. My sister is dating a Moslem Javanese man. A very decent man I’d say, and I’m happy for her. But she has enough problems in explaining to mum that his religion matters not for her.

I can understand my sister. Two Indonesian laws in need of annulment are 1) the 2008/9 porn bill (God, I can write a long article just about that!) and 2) the marriage law (don’t know which year), which states that two Indonesians of different faiths cannot be married. If I recall correctly, it requires that one of the lovers must sacrifice his/her own faith and convert to another’s. IMHO, it creates a false foundation for the marriage. Why can’t you just remain faithful to your own religion and respect your partner’s as well? More than that, not only respecting and tolerating, but appreciating. For the essence, the beauty within, is just the same.

I guess I’m a strong proponent for interfaith marriage in Indonesia; one that is not merely based on respect, but also on appreciation and understanding that each path is uniquely tailored for a person. The connection between a person and the Sacred, the Creator, God, whatever you name it, is a very personal one; it is even more personal than the bond between husband and wife. That’s why it is called a ‘path’. Because it is small and is only walked by one person at a time.

Coming back to the conversation with my nephew. Eventually my sister and I came up with an explanation like this:

“Religion is the way for a person to speak with God. It is up to him/her how to speak with the Almighty. You can speak in Indonesian language, in Javanese, in Balinese… in English, in Mandarin… etc…”

“God can understand?”

“Yes, God can understand. Even if you don’t speak at all, God can still understand. And wherever you pray, whatever your religion is, God still understands.”

That explanation seems to suffice my nephew. With the Javanese gamelan playing in the background, he sat next to my sister in front of the Javanese style Jesus Christ, while I walked to the corner of the compound, to Mother Mary and Baby Jesus. I need not to explain why I was more attracted to this Javanese Mother Mary, but I can try. Perhaps because she reminds me of Lady Isis and Baby Horus, Ma Parvati and Little Ganesh… mother and child. Perhaps I was, am, attracted to her Javanese style. Perhaps I just need to speak to a mother who listens.

“This is Mother Mary?” my nephew was confused with her Javanese garment and hair ornaments. He was used to the cloaked Mother Mary he always saw in churches.

“Yes, this is Mother Mary,” I told him. “This is the same Mother Mary you saw with the cloak inside the church.” I wanted to tell him that I can see the same Mother Mary inside the Vedic Goddesses and Celtic High Ladies… and even in the trees and the stars… but that would confuse him more. It would confuse him more if I say that the Vatican seemed to disagree with the representation of Mother Mary in Javanese Hindu style.

But…yes, this is still Mother Mary. Her Javanese statue, along with the temple church (gereja candi) compound was built in 1930s, the courtesy of the Dutch Schmutzer family for the Motherland of Indonesia.

Yes, she listens to me too. For I am her daughter and she is my Mother.

All pics are my own.
Pic 3 = 'Mother Mary of Ganjuran, I seek Thy Blessings'

It's going to be okay

It’s going to be okay
by Barin Taylor

It's going to be okay...
Just hang in there
It’s going to be okay
Just give things a little time

And in the meantime…
Keep believing in yourself;
Take the best of care;
Try to put things in perspective;
Remember what’s most important;
Don’t forget that someone cares;

Search for the positive side;
Learn the lessons to be learned;
And find your way through to the inner qualities…
The strength, the smiles, the wisdom and the optimistic outlook
That are such special parts of you.

It’s going to be okay

I know it will be
Because I know you

The discourse between boxes and non-boxes: what eventually matters is Love

There are times when you made a decision to go somewhere or do something because you believe in the cause, and despite your rather limited funding, you don’t regret doing it. In fact, had you missed it, you would truly regret it, knowing how beautiful it could have been for you.

It was the feeling I had when I visited Mother India January this year. It was also the feeling I had (still have) as my cheapie Jetstar took off from Melbourne to Townsville yesterday (7 Dec09) after attending the 2009 Parliament of World’s Religions. I had to go back early (the conference finishes tomorrow, 9 Dec with the speeches from His Holiness Dalai Lama and Uncle Bob Randall) because of some time and financial constrains, but I did not regret going. At all. Well, now I have to keep a very good eye on what I buy etc until my next payment, but again, I am very grateful that I did go to Melbourne.

For all five senses of mine (and my sixth sense as well) were ‘assaulted’ with beauty. Vibrant colours, sounds and voices from many cultures and traditions of the world welcomed me. There at the south bank of Yarra River in Melbourne, I met lots and lots of beautiful souls from every religion, tradition and culture on Earth. It was a privilege for me to meet them, for I didn’t even know until then that a Sikh woman would dress up with a white kurta pyjama or salwar kameez and white turban. Or that a Tibetan monk actually wears his saffron and burgundy robe differently from a Chinese monk, despite the similar colour scheme.

And I identify with them. I identify myself with the Tibetan monks or the beautiful Odissi dancers who danced for Lord Krishna, Lady Durga and Lord Shiva. I understand the pains of my innocent Moslem and Sikh brothers and sisters who were hunted down in the aftermath of the 9/11 tragedy in the U.S., just because they looked like terrorists. I in turn narrated the plight of ‘the minorities’ (like myself) and the moderates in Indonesia, who hope to maintain Indonesia’s cultural and religious diversities under Pancasila (The Five Pillars) and Bhinneka Tunggal Ika (Unity in Diversity) despite voices from the radicals. And – just as I was moved to tears in learning during the Divine Feminine session how our Divine Mother finally returned to us after her long millennia sabbatical leave – I also hope that Indonesia will soon become a feminine country again; a loving and embracing country that nurtures and protects all her citizens despite their cultures, religions, and other backgrounds, the way a Mother would.

I also met those who do not claim to be part of any religion at all, but still showing love and compassion to Life. To God. To the Grand Force I perceive as the Grand Creator or Creatress. They are no less compassionate than those who belong to a particular religion. Instead, they are very full of love and understanding. Sometimes I identify myself better with them because I often have to struggle to answer the simple question of ‘What is your religion?’

I suppose… I also don’t identify myself with a certain religion. I mean, I do lots of Vedic chanting and prayers, and also conduct daily yoga in the morning. But I don’t see myself as a Hindu per se. I also do Buddhist meditations, and I love doing Sufi whirling. I am crazy about Celtic Pagan tradition, particularly when talking about the Goddess, akin to the way the Shakta would love the Great Mother Durga. I do have my roots and faith. But I don’t identify myself with only one tradition or religion. All are beautiful to me. And despite my years of struggle to accept that weird part of me, now I am in peace with myself. I accept that I do not belong to a particular box of religion. I respect all boxes. I practice the teachings of some boxes, and they have been nourishing me… but I am more of a soul that is happy to be out of the box, happy to just be in Love.

Hence, when it comes to the discourse between box and non-box, between those who believe that one must have a particular religion for one’s own good and those who believe that one can appreciate the beauty of all religions and traditions and yet still earns the right to be free out of the box, I have to take side with the non-box one. Bearing in mind not to create a new non-box box. If you know what I mean.

See, I believe that it is good to teach the children the beauty of all traditions in the world, and then when they are old enough to consciously choose they should be encouraged to either choose a tradition/religion/belief they feel suit them or choose to be a free spirit who lives outside the box yet still be loving and kind.There is also nothing wrong to hold on to your religion/tradition – that proves to add colours, sounds and voices during the Parliament. But, as I respect those who chooses to still be rooted in their religion of choice, please also be respectful of those who decide that they have outgrown the boxes. And although I understand the need to identify oneself with a religion/tradition, eventually we have to outgrow it and become humankind. It’s okay to say that ‘I’m a Christian, Moslem, Hindu, Sikh, a non-faith but loving person’ – those are our personal paths we chose to walk on. We need that at personal levels. But eventually at non personal levels, with all due respect, I think we must drop the labels and be human beings. Just humans who embody love and peace within.I understand that this ‘out of the box’ thing is still difficult to address, even at the Parliament. I do not have the exact quote, but the slogan I heard during the international plenary was something like ‘You come with your belief intact. You don’t leave it at the door. You bring it with you, but with utter and beautiful respect.’ Now that’s a very different thing from the school of thought I believe in now thanks to Swami Anand Krishna, who taught me that we should actually drop our ‘clothes’, jump out of our boxes, and come as human beings.

But I think, feel, that I should respect people who still want to be in boxes. It’s already hard enough to conduct dialogues with people of different faith and refraining from saying ‘my religion this’ or ‘my religion that’. I feel that I should respect those who come in the spirit of true dialog and willingness to listen and understand. Though of course, I can dream of the day where people would say that ‘Hey, that’s so true! For not only Jesus said that, Muhammad, Krishna and Guru Nanak also confirmed it. And I know that the Great Goddess also agrees!’ or something like that.

And dare I dream that the day would eventually come, sooner than later? The day where we celebrate our vibrant diversities without even having to refrain from saying that ‘despite everything, my tradition is still the superior tradition’? For there is no need from refraining; for we know and realise that this is not about superiority or supremacy. Down to its very root, it is about personal path, and it is very uniquely catered to each individual’s personal growth.

Dare I hope? I so dare hope.

And what of people of another box? The atheist or non-believers? See, there is another discourse in the Parliament about it. There are people who believe that those atheists better learn from the believers because religion is the only way to salvation. That these non-believers will basically be condemned to hell for all eternity. I of course respectfully disagree. Thank Gods and Goddesses, there are also leaders in the Parliament who agreed that the non-believers also have the right to choose not to believe. It is their birthright to do so.

I agree. Suppose you are a non-believer… it matters not to me. Because what matters to me eventually is not whether you are a believer of a particular religion or not, but your own personal integrity. My own personal integrity. Your love. My love. Our vibrant need to explore and understand Life with giddy excitement and respect.

For eventually we are one big family of humankind and that we only have one Mother Earth to live in. And – just the enlightened Pagan gentlemen during the ‘Men who Love the Goddess’ stated – if we see Earth as our Great Mother instead of a ‘cash cow’, we would treat her differently. We would treat her with respect. With Love, with capital ‘L’.

PS: The Sacred Music Concert was amazing. I might have to make another post just to tell you about that vibrant night where I was indulged with beautiful sounds and musics from many traditions. God is indeed great...Allahu Aqbar...

Pic 1. Sufi whirling during the Sacred Music Concert
Pic 2. Sand mandala by Gyuto Monks
Pic 3. Waning moon by the bank of Yarra River
All pictures are taken by myself

The Stepmother’s Support Group - not your usual Saturday snack

It’s weird to read something with such an intense and uncommon theme like The Stepmother’s Support Group (SSG) novel… but authoress Samantha Baker (current editor of Red magazine in UK) has made it so fresh and alight (despite having serious sub-themes inside) that I can’t help but writing a short review about it. About how I enjoyed and admired it.

SSG was not exactly what I needed for a lite ‘chick-lit’ reading after a day(s) of struggling with your thesis. But it’s actually not a wonder why I chose it. I’ve lived with step-somethings almost a third of my life. My parents were divorced and now I have a set of step parents, one is much more dysfunctional than the other. My sister will be a stepmother herself in a year’s time. My cousin remarried as well, so her daughters have a stepfather now. My other cousin is a rebel, for his father remarried again, and he has to cope with the stepmother (actually, it’s the other way around. The stepmother is the one who has to cope with him!). I even once considered myself as a potential stepmother for the children of a man I used to love so much (still love so much), but…it never went that far…

Still. With all the step-somethings around me, I was naturally attracted to reading SSG. And it was a comforting and enlightening journey, if beautiful is still too strange a word to describe it. Knowing that what I felt was something a normal stepdaughter would feel, but actually unnecessary, had my parents been wise enough to be grown ups in their relationships, instead of being teenagers again, at the expense of their children.

So SSG tells a story about five London women: Eve, Clare, Lily, Melanie and Mandy. All of them were either a real stepmother (Mandy), stepdaughters (Clare and Lily), or stepmother-to-be (Eve and Melanie). All of them struggled to either gluing two families, trying to accommodate their spouse’s children, coping with the memory of their spouse’s ex…you name it. And all of them want to make it work. Eve really wants to fix the problems with his partner’s teenager (Ian, the partner, I picture him a combo of Liam Neeson and Richard Armitage; a yummy deadly combination!). Clare has to let go of her ego and let her daughter mingle with her new step-family, including new stepmother. Mandy tries to glue together two families with two sets of (step) children. All of them try hard to defeat the image of ‘stepmonster’, or wicked stepmother. All because of love.

And they made it. Eve and Lily stick with their partners and extended family. Clare and Melanie move on with new men. Mandy splits up with her partner, for she realized he was not what she needed (and vice versa). But all of them do it after consulting with their friends, and most of all, their hearts.



Something I wish my parents would do.

Now, I’ve told you that my parents were divorced…when I was 20. Although at that time I could not understand why it should happen, I now see why they were not matched for each other… and a divorce was bound to happen anyway, one way or the other. But the story wasn’t a smooth divorce (and yes, smooth divorce IS possible!). My mother did not let me and my sister see my father as we wish. We had to sneak out to see him, and I always felt guilty afterwards. In retrospective, it was not fair for us the children. At all. Wrong as he was, he was, is, still our father, and we should not even feel obliged to find excuses to see him. We Indonesians have a saying, “Bekas suami ada, bekas istri ada. Tapi bekas anak tidak ada”. Yes, there are ex-husbands. There are ex-wives. But never there are ex-children.

It’s a complicated thing that created a subconscious pattern in me; that ‘I would never find my dream prince. If I do, I would have to do it the hard way’. I cannot tell you how deep and bad the scar is for my own personality; but suffice to say that it took me years and years to overcome my self-imposed blockages and arrive at the current state of believing in love between man and woman again. Believing that I deserve the best possible mature and healed man for me, as well as the happiest, healthiest, and most prosperous relationship.

Anyway, moving back to my parents and the stepparents. I love my parents, of course. It’s a given. But… I wish they were wiser in dealing with the divorce. Alas, they were not. Forgiveness was something I cannot find in my mother’s book, even after all these years. Letting go is still an alien concept for my father.

My step parents were none the wiser. My stepmother is a… I hate to say it, but a disgrace for the concept of feminity, and deserves (or not?) a post on its own (then again, better not). She and my father are match made in hell, such that I think, for the sanity and health of my father (which has his own faults too), they should just finish it off. Call it a day, get the divorce and move on with their respective lives.

My stepfather should never have encouraged my mother to take side; choosing between me or him. He should have never tried to replace my (faulty) father for me. That thing never worked, will never work, and had created gaps so deep between us (and between me and my mother as well). He is much wiser now, and I can relate to him much better compared to our very rocky and prickly first years… If anything, he certainly understands what Sam Baker said in p. 397 (though I doubt he will ever read the novel):

‘Caro was not gone, she never would be. She was the children’s mother after all. And that was something Eve would never be. But her ghost had moved over, all the same, to make room in the family for Eve.’


Final call: SSG is a very good novel, particularly for those who are familiar with the situation (i.e. having step-somethings in her/his life). They should make a movie out of it. And I want either Liam Neeson or Richard Armitage for Ian Newsome (RA is preferable, due to Ian’s age of 38). Eve… I was thinking of Rachel Weisz…although she might be half a decade older than Eve Owen. We can always call Daniella Denby-Ashe (Margaret Hale in ‘North & South 2005’). Make her a brunette again, and we can have the 21st century, family version of Margaret-Thornton all over again!

And please make the setting in UK. PLEASE make it in London. If you can’t make it all in London, by all means move it to Surrey for some shots, but NEVER, ever change the setting to United States (except for the Boston and New York bits for Melanie). No offense. I do not want the second ‘Shopaholic train wreck’ for my favourite English book. What would you feel if – say – Huckleberry Finn or Little Women has English settings anyway?!

Pic: Cover to SSG, paperback version, from Fishpond.com.au