hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
and the wounded skies above say it's much too late
well maybe we should all be praying for time
- George Michael -
*****
20 May 2008. There was supposed to be a full moon today. I searched the cloudy night sky. I could barely see traces of moonlight behind curtains of clouds. I wished I could summon the moon, invite it to become twilight to the door of my mind, and ask these questions… What has this world become? What have we become? Where’s God? But in all its sad beauty, the moon didn’t answer me, yet something seemed to be written there mockingly. The human race seems to have failed every single one of His tests. We’re all just waiting around for that judgment day to come.
GOD AND ME
One evening, 1978. I was 9 years old. I came to my Mom with one burning wish.
“Mom,” I said. “Can I become a Catholic?”
She frowned. Maybe trying to calm her heart and to find the right words to answer her 9 year-old daughter.
“Why?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know. I just feel like it. I think Catholicism fits me better than Islam,” that was my honest answer.
She frowned again.
“No,” she said slowly but firmly. “Not now.”
“Then when?” I insisted.
“You must learn Islam first for now, because that’s the religion that I believe in. Then when you become an adult, you can choose your own way,” she said again.
Fair enough. So I shut up and walked away. But soon after that, everyone in my big family knew about it. Young and old, men and women, boy and girl. They were all talking about it. About how dare me asking such question, making such request. Then Mom held family meetings several times (I wasn’t invited of course), just to discuss it and to seek advice from her elders. What was the big deal? I had no idea. The result was astounding. They decided I should quit my piano lessons, my track practices and all other activities, so that I could attend Islamic studies at Al-Azhar three times a week after school and private Qur’an recitation classes at home twice a week, also after school. There went my social life, at the age of 9. Along with that little rule, I also started to earn a reputation: the family rebel. For what? For something that came straight from my heart, I wanted to follow another path, the path of a Catholic.
What is religion? Is it an organization? Do we need memberships to belong to it? Do we automatically have to inherit it from our parents? Can’t we choose our own way? Is it so bad and so wrong to belong to one religion instead of the other? At only a tender age of 9, my heart was consumed by hatred towards God.
Bismillahirrahmaanirrahiim. In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful. I was taught to say that before doing everything. Before I ate, before I went to sleep, before I rode my bike, even before I brushed my teeth. Alhamdulillahirabbil ‘alamiin. Praise be to Allah, the Cherisher and Sustainer of the worlds. I was taught to say that after doing everything. After I ate, when I woke up, after I rode my bike, even after I brushed my teeth.
Yet what is so gracious and so merciful about God if He split us up into different boxes, labeled “Islam”, “Catholic”, “Protestant”, “Hindu”, “Buddha” and so on? What is there to cherish and praise? Which worlds does He actually sustain? This world? Really? Why does it matter if we believe in one religion and not the other? If He loves us so much, if he’s so gracious and merciful, then what does He care? It should be just the same, shouldn’t it?
Questions were swirling in my head with no answer. The more I asked, the more I was scolded, the more Mom cried and held family meetings. And I earned even more reputations: radical, ungrateful, extreme, selfish, stubborn and impossible, among many other reputations. Just because I wanted to become a Catholic? Just because I questioned God? Oh, come on!
So I did the only thing I knew. Might as well make all those reputations worth it. I became the most rebellious, most stubborn, most radical, most selfish, most ungrateful, most extreme and most impossible kid to handle. At the age of 11, I dared my Mom, who was and still is a doctor, to prove to me that pork meat was actually dangerous for us. We had many heated discussions about this. Well, they weren’t actually discussions. They were more like shouts and screams. But in the end, she gave in. Holding on tightly to her faith, she was sure she would be able to prove that there was something wrong with pork and that was why we weren’t allowed to eat it.
So she reluctantly bought some pork meat (while repeatedly praying to God to forgive her) and took me to a lab in her office. She put a tiny piece of that uncooked meat under a microscope. She peered through the microscope, then she looked at me and smiled triumphantly.
“Here,” she said, still smiling. “Have a look.”
“See those small white dots moving around vaguely? Those are worms,” she added.
“But Mom,” I replied quietly, being dangerously calm for an 11 year-old. “It’s raw meat. People don’t eat raw pork, Mom.”
“Let’s cook it first. Then we’ll have another look,” I said insistently.
We did. We cooked it and took another look under the microscope. This time, I smiled triumphantly. Mom took another look, then another, then frowned.
Frustrated and annoyed, she finally said decisively, “Look. It is NOT our place to question God’s rules. We need to believe that every rule God made for us is for our own good. Have faith on that.”
That was it. That little scientific experiment returned my faith to God. Not to Islam or Catholicism or any other religion. But to God. I no longer hated Him. Because I believed (and I still do to this day, even though I’m now a Catholic) that the Qur’an did contain the words of God, I also believed that He must be most gracious and most merciful. I suddenly understood that it wasn’t Him at all that created all this mess. It must be us. It was US who were so stupid that we couldn’t understand His rules and His will. And because we didn’t understand, we could never explain anything correctly. Everything was only as good or as bad as our own interpretation. It had nothing to do with God.
And because I was sure with all my heart that God wouldn’t mind if I chose to become a Moslem or a Catholic or a Buddhist or a Hindu or anything, my rebellion became worse. No longer hating God, I turned my hatred towards my parents and my entire family. At the age of 13, I started smoking. Then I started drinking at 14. Then marijuana and pills at 15. Then car racing. Then late night partying. Then rock n roll. Then sex. By the age of 16, my parents gave up scolding me. In fact, they stopped talking to me unless it was really, really necessary like “Hey, Rin… there’s a phone for you” or “Rin, here’s your allowance” (thank God they still gave me allowances). In a little ceremonial-like event, they silently gave me a copy of our house key. That was the beginning of my absolute freedom. Sex, drugs and rock n roll!!!
If it wasn’t because of Mother Earth, I would probably be dead by now. This is another story. Bear with me, please.
MOTHER EARTH AND ME
Until now, I still can’t figure out who taught me or influenced me to love nature. Especially animals. I love all kinds of animals, including the ones I’m afraid of and never dare to come close to. None of my family members is particularly fond of animals. But they did take me to the mountains or to the oceans every once in a while when I was a kid, especially during school holidays. I used to love those trips. Maybe that’s why. Can’t be sure. But animals? They definitely never taught me to like animals. They never even allowed me to have pets.
My parents hate dogs. Like all good Moslems, they think dogs are “haram” or forbidden. They don’t hate cats but still, they prefer not to have them around either. Nor any other animal. And of course, their attitude towards animals could never stop me.
I brought a stranded dog home when I was 9 (I don’t why, but all my antiques seemed to start at the age of 9). My parents were angry, but since I threw horrible tantrums at the idea of giving it away, they finally let me keep it as long as it didn’t enter the house. It must remain in the garage or in the garden at all times. I was happy enough. Until one day… My dog was sleeping in the garage. Our driver came that morning and didn’t check underneath the car. He started the car, backed it up out of the garage and accidentally ran my dog over. The dog was dead instantly. When I found out about it, I cried and screamed all morning, refusing to go to school. I also did the unthinkable for a 9 year-old. I fired my driver on the spot. I refused to do anything else until he agreed to leave and never come back. My parents were furious, yet couldn’t do anything to stop it. I said things that badly hurt my driver’s feeling and he left without a word. I was cruel. I regret that. I do. But even today, I still miss that dog.
After that incident, I decided never to have dogs anymore. There was no point of having a dog if it was going to have to sleep in the garage again and face another risk of being killed. So I had cats instead. No, not those furry and cute pure-bred cats, but again… stranded, cold, sick and dying cats I found on the streets or in the gutters. My parents were speechless.
Then I had a couple of rabbits. In a week, they were both eaten by my cats. I cried endlessly too, but I didn’t “fire” my cats like I fired my driver. I just never had rabbits anymore. I was cruel. I loved animals more than I loved human beings. I fired my driver, but I didn’t have the heart to punish my cats. I regret that. I do. But even today, I still miss the dog and the rabbits.
Then in high school, I had a snake. A friend of mine, who was quite knowledgeable about snakes, found it during one of our many hiking trips to Mount Salak in West Java. He immediately recognized that it was a baby boa constrictor and it wasn’t venomous. He said it was a girl. I had no idea how he knew this, but decided not to argue. It was November. So we kept her and passionately named her “Novi”. We took turn taking care of her. Sometimes she stayed with me and sometimes she stayed at my friend’s house.
I knew my parents would have a fit, if not a heart-attack. So whenever Novi was with me, I carefully hid her in my bedroom. I made sure that my bedroom door was always locked. Then I used to hunt for geckos to feed her. I hunted geckos everywhere. In my bedroom, behind wall paintings in the living room, in the kitchen, in the garage, even in the mosque nearby my house. Luckily, no one asked or protested. I was such a strange and rebellious kid by then that everyone figured it was just one of my antiques and it would pass in time. Remember, my parents didn’t talk to me much during my high school years.
When Novi started to get bigger, I had to change her diet. I fed her little chicks that I bought at the market. Again, no one asked or protested. Sometimes, I even took her to school (hidden in my big backpack) to scare other girls. I was cruel, but in this case I’ve never regretted it. I hated those girls who only cared about their looks and their hair and their clothes and their shoes and their cars and shit like that.
Eventually though, my parents did find out. One Sunday morning, I had to pee so badly that I jumped out of bed and ran to the toilet, forgetting to lock my bedroom door. Novi casually slithered out into the dining room where my parents were sitting and enjoying their breakfast. Mom screamed on top of her lungs. Dad was panicking too for a couple of minutes, trying to decide what to do. That’s when I came out from the toilet. Realizing what had happened, I immediately picked Novi up and cuddled her, softly soothing her and telling her not to be afraid. Seeing that, Dad lost his temper. He started shouting at me angrily, telling me that I had gone totally insane. I probably had gone insane, because my first reaction to Dad’s anger was getting twice as angry, shouting twice as loud, telling him that Novi was harmless and he was a coward. But when Dad ran to the garage and came back with a huge axe, I realized he was REALLY angry. I took off. I managed to save Novi from my Dad’s axe. Since then, she was cared by my friend who found her. His parents were rarely home, so Novi was safe. She got very big and eventually decided to wander off. We lost her. And today, I still miss her.
Those are only a few examples of how crazy I am when it comes to animals. There are many more, but less interesting to tell. The point is, I love animals and everything else in nature. So in high school, I joined this club called TRUPALA. A nature society. The members must all go through tough physical exercises and master various survival skills before being officially inducted and earning the right to wear the prestigious orange jackets, the jacket that I still proudly own and put on every time I venture in the wilds.
It was those rigorous exercises that saved me from my partying, rock n rolling, drug addictive days. I still partied and rock n rolled, and occasionally took a few drags of weed, but it wasn’t done in an uncontrollable and suicidal manner anymore. My passion for the great nature and my undying hope of animal encounters in the wild saved me. Mother Earth saved me.
GOD AND PEOPLE
GOD AND ME
One evening, 1978. I was 9 years old. I came to my Mom with one burning wish.
“Mom,” I said. “Can I become a Catholic?”
She frowned. Maybe trying to calm her heart and to find the right words to answer her 9 year-old daughter.
“Why?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know. I just feel like it. I think Catholicism fits me better than Islam,” that was my honest answer.
She frowned again.
“No,” she said slowly but firmly. “Not now.”
“Then when?” I insisted.
“You must learn Islam first for now, because that’s the religion that I believe in. Then when you become an adult, you can choose your own way,” she said again.
Fair enough. So I shut up and walked away. But soon after that, everyone in my big family knew about it. Young and old, men and women, boy and girl. They were all talking about it. About how dare me asking such question, making such request. Then Mom held family meetings several times (I wasn’t invited of course), just to discuss it and to seek advice from her elders. What was the big deal? I had no idea. The result was astounding. They decided I should quit my piano lessons, my track practices and all other activities, so that I could attend Islamic studies at Al-Azhar three times a week after school and private Qur’an recitation classes at home twice a week, also after school. There went my social life, at the age of 9. Along with that little rule, I also started to earn a reputation: the family rebel. For what? For something that came straight from my heart, I wanted to follow another path, the path of a Catholic.
What is religion? Is it an organization? Do we need memberships to belong to it? Do we automatically have to inherit it from our parents? Can’t we choose our own way? Is it so bad and so wrong to belong to one religion instead of the other? At only a tender age of 9, my heart was consumed by hatred towards God.
Bismillahirrahmaanirrahiim. In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful. I was taught to say that before doing everything. Before I ate, before I went to sleep, before I rode my bike, even before I brushed my teeth. Alhamdulillahirabbil ‘alamiin. Praise be to Allah, the Cherisher and Sustainer of the worlds. I was taught to say that after doing everything. After I ate, when I woke up, after I rode my bike, even after I brushed my teeth.
Yet what is so gracious and so merciful about God if He split us up into different boxes, labeled “Islam”, “Catholic”, “Protestant”, “Hindu”, “Buddha” and so on? What is there to cherish and praise? Which worlds does He actually sustain? This world? Really? Why does it matter if we believe in one religion and not the other? If He loves us so much, if he’s so gracious and merciful, then what does He care? It should be just the same, shouldn’t it?
Questions were swirling in my head with no answer. The more I asked, the more I was scolded, the more Mom cried and held family meetings. And I earned even more reputations: radical, ungrateful, extreme, selfish, stubborn and impossible, among many other reputations. Just because I wanted to become a Catholic? Just because I questioned God? Oh, come on!
So I did the only thing I knew. Might as well make all those reputations worth it. I became the most rebellious, most stubborn, most radical, most selfish, most ungrateful, most extreme and most impossible kid to handle. At the age of 11, I dared my Mom, who was and still is a doctor, to prove to me that pork meat was actually dangerous for us. We had many heated discussions about this. Well, they weren’t actually discussions. They were more like shouts and screams. But in the end, she gave in. Holding on tightly to her faith, she was sure she would be able to prove that there was something wrong with pork and that was why we weren’t allowed to eat it.
So she reluctantly bought some pork meat (while repeatedly praying to God to forgive her) and took me to a lab in her office. She put a tiny piece of that uncooked meat under a microscope. She peered through the microscope, then she looked at me and smiled triumphantly.
“Here,” she said, still smiling. “Have a look.”
“See those small white dots moving around vaguely? Those are worms,” she added.
“But Mom,” I replied quietly, being dangerously calm for an 11 year-old. “It’s raw meat. People don’t eat raw pork, Mom.”
“Let’s cook it first. Then we’ll have another look,” I said insistently.
We did. We cooked it and took another look under the microscope. This time, I smiled triumphantly. Mom took another look, then another, then frowned.
Frustrated and annoyed, she finally said decisively, “Look. It is NOT our place to question God’s rules. We need to believe that every rule God made for us is for our own good. Have faith on that.”
That was it. That little scientific experiment returned my faith to God. Not to Islam or Catholicism or any other religion. But to God. I no longer hated Him. Because I believed (and I still do to this day, even though I’m now a Catholic) that the Qur’an did contain the words of God, I also believed that He must be most gracious and most merciful. I suddenly understood that it wasn’t Him at all that created all this mess. It must be us. It was US who were so stupid that we couldn’t understand His rules and His will. And because we didn’t understand, we could never explain anything correctly. Everything was only as good or as bad as our own interpretation. It had nothing to do with God.
And because I was sure with all my heart that God wouldn’t mind if I chose to become a Moslem or a Catholic or a Buddhist or a Hindu or anything, my rebellion became worse. No longer hating God, I turned my hatred towards my parents and my entire family. At the age of 13, I started smoking. Then I started drinking at 14. Then marijuana and pills at 15. Then car racing. Then late night partying. Then rock n roll. Then sex. By the age of 16, my parents gave up scolding me. In fact, they stopped talking to me unless it was really, really necessary like “Hey, Rin… there’s a phone for you” or “Rin, here’s your allowance” (thank God they still gave me allowances). In a little ceremonial-like event, they silently gave me a copy of our house key. That was the beginning of my absolute freedom. Sex, drugs and rock n roll!!!
If it wasn’t because of Mother Earth, I would probably be dead by now. This is another story. Bear with me, please.
MOTHER EARTH AND ME
Until now, I still can’t figure out who taught me or influenced me to love nature. Especially animals. I love all kinds of animals, including the ones I’m afraid of and never dare to come close to. None of my family members is particularly fond of animals. But they did take me to the mountains or to the oceans every once in a while when I was a kid, especially during school holidays. I used to love those trips. Maybe that’s why. Can’t be sure. But animals? They definitely never taught me to like animals. They never even allowed me to have pets.
My parents hate dogs. Like all good Moslems, they think dogs are “haram” or forbidden. They don’t hate cats but still, they prefer not to have them around either. Nor any other animal. And of course, their attitude towards animals could never stop me.
I brought a stranded dog home when I was 9 (I don’t why, but all my antiques seemed to start at the age of 9). My parents were angry, but since I threw horrible tantrums at the idea of giving it away, they finally let me keep it as long as it didn’t enter the house. It must remain in the garage or in the garden at all times. I was happy enough. Until one day… My dog was sleeping in the garage. Our driver came that morning and didn’t check underneath the car. He started the car, backed it up out of the garage and accidentally ran my dog over. The dog was dead instantly. When I found out about it, I cried and screamed all morning, refusing to go to school. I also did the unthinkable for a 9 year-old. I fired my driver on the spot. I refused to do anything else until he agreed to leave and never come back. My parents were furious, yet couldn’t do anything to stop it. I said things that badly hurt my driver’s feeling and he left without a word. I was cruel. I regret that. I do. But even today, I still miss that dog.
After that incident, I decided never to have dogs anymore. There was no point of having a dog if it was going to have to sleep in the garage again and face another risk of being killed. So I had cats instead. No, not those furry and cute pure-bred cats, but again… stranded, cold, sick and dying cats I found on the streets or in the gutters. My parents were speechless.
Then I had a couple of rabbits. In a week, they were both eaten by my cats. I cried endlessly too, but I didn’t “fire” my cats like I fired my driver. I just never had rabbits anymore. I was cruel. I loved animals more than I loved human beings. I fired my driver, but I didn’t have the heart to punish my cats. I regret that. I do. But even today, I still miss the dog and the rabbits.
Then in high school, I had a snake. A friend of mine, who was quite knowledgeable about snakes, found it during one of our many hiking trips to Mount Salak in West Java. He immediately recognized that it was a baby boa constrictor and it wasn’t venomous. He said it was a girl. I had no idea how he knew this, but decided not to argue. It was November. So we kept her and passionately named her “Novi”. We took turn taking care of her. Sometimes she stayed with me and sometimes she stayed at my friend’s house.
I knew my parents would have a fit, if not a heart-attack. So whenever Novi was with me, I carefully hid her in my bedroom. I made sure that my bedroom door was always locked. Then I used to hunt for geckos to feed her. I hunted geckos everywhere. In my bedroom, behind wall paintings in the living room, in the kitchen, in the garage, even in the mosque nearby my house. Luckily, no one asked or protested. I was such a strange and rebellious kid by then that everyone figured it was just one of my antiques and it would pass in time. Remember, my parents didn’t talk to me much during my high school years.
When Novi started to get bigger, I had to change her diet. I fed her little chicks that I bought at the market. Again, no one asked or protested. Sometimes, I even took her to school (hidden in my big backpack) to scare other girls. I was cruel, but in this case I’ve never regretted it. I hated those girls who only cared about their looks and their hair and their clothes and their shoes and their cars and shit like that.
Eventually though, my parents did find out. One Sunday morning, I had to pee so badly that I jumped out of bed and ran to the toilet, forgetting to lock my bedroom door. Novi casually slithered out into the dining room where my parents were sitting and enjoying their breakfast. Mom screamed on top of her lungs. Dad was panicking too for a couple of minutes, trying to decide what to do. That’s when I came out from the toilet. Realizing what had happened, I immediately picked Novi up and cuddled her, softly soothing her and telling her not to be afraid. Seeing that, Dad lost his temper. He started shouting at me angrily, telling me that I had gone totally insane. I probably had gone insane, because my first reaction to Dad’s anger was getting twice as angry, shouting twice as loud, telling him that Novi was harmless and he was a coward. But when Dad ran to the garage and came back with a huge axe, I realized he was REALLY angry. I took off. I managed to save Novi from my Dad’s axe. Since then, she was cared by my friend who found her. His parents were rarely home, so Novi was safe. She got very big and eventually decided to wander off. We lost her. And today, I still miss her.
Those are only a few examples of how crazy I am when it comes to animals. There are many more, but less interesting to tell. The point is, I love animals and everything else in nature. So in high school, I joined this club called TRUPALA. A nature society. The members must all go through tough physical exercises and master various survival skills before being officially inducted and earning the right to wear the prestigious orange jackets, the jacket that I still proudly own and put on every time I venture in the wilds.
It was those rigorous exercises that saved me from my partying, rock n rolling, drug addictive days. I still partied and rock n rolled, and occasionally took a few drags of weed, but it wasn’t done in an uncontrollable and suicidal manner anymore. My passion for the great nature and my undying hope of animal encounters in the wild saved me. Mother Earth saved me.
GOD AND PEOPLE
Today, I’m 39. I have gone through so much. I have learned so much. I got pregnant and married by the age of 20, raised a family while trying to earn a college degree in a foreign country, had another child while finishing a Master degree in another foreign country and finally became a Catholic. Thankfully, school always came easy for me. No matter how disobedient and wayward I was, I always managed to complete each level of my education on time and with flying colors. Full credit to God. Thank You God, for this brain.
Then, when life seemed to finally be on track – great career, wonderful husband, two lovely daughters and enough money – I lost my dear husband. He died at the age of 30, leaving me with a 10 year-old and a 6 year-old. That was 20 September 1999. The darkest day of my life.
Don’t be sorry for me, because I’m perfectly fine now. It’s amazing how resilient a human heart is. It’s amazing how I could pick up the pieces (of course after having a complete nervous breakdown for a year and nearly lost all my faith in God… again…) and moved on. It’s amazing how I could survive 9 years without him, my childhood sweetheart (I dated him since I was 13), my best friend, my lover, my everything. It’s amazing how I could raise two kids on my own. My oldest daughter, Cassey, is off to college soon. My youngest, Sky, will start high school in a couple of months. It’s amazing that I’m still here…
I have gone through so much. I have learned so much. And I have been so blessed with many wonderful things, despite some tragedies that I had to endure. I am a little bit wiser now (just a little bit) and less confrontational. My relationship with my parents is still not perfect and they still pretend not to know about my religion (I’m sure they know). But at least now we talk, not argue. At least now we have a relationship. But my frustration remains. This time, I’m frustrated at people. The more things I’ve gone through and the more things I’ve learned, the more frustrated I am at people.
People who secretly hate other people, judge other people, hurt other people, even kill other people, in the name of religion and God. People, who are like my parents, think that their faith, their religion is the best one, while others are crap. People who are still stupid and are not able to learn anything, while I’m sure they’ve surely had incredible life experiences too.
Here’s one common example. In the holy Qur’an (yes, I still consider it holy), it is said: “Innad diina ‘indallahil Islam” [Chapter 3 - Al Imran : Verse 19]. Behold, the only [true] religion in the sight of God is Islam. And nearly everyone I know, who claims to be a “good” Moslem, holds that verse dearly and thus believes that other religions therefore are not true religions. Against God's wish, they use this verse against any other religion. Clever. Just clever. NOT!!!
It took me several years asking around, poking around, reading every religious literature I came across (I worked in my campus library, which turned out to be another blessing), earning a few more enemies and more bad reputations along the way. But finally, I found the answer. My God! People! They have translated every single word in that verse except for one. “Islam”. Most people treated this word like a brand name or a marketing tagline! They treated it like the word “Coca-Cola” or “Kodak” or “Nike”. It is NOT a brand name, people!!! It’s an Arabic word. It too has meaning. It too must be translated in order to grasp the full meaning of the verse. Islam means “surrender”. In Bahasa Indonesia, it means “pasrah”. The full translation of the verse is: Behold, the only [true] religion in the sight of God is [man’s] self-surrender unto Him.
Now, please tell me. Is there a religion that doesn’t fall into THAT category? Is there a religion that doesn’t teach its followers to surrender completely to the will of God? NO! Even old religions that do not recognize God still teach their followers about self-surrender through various types of meditation and self-reflection. Get it??? It is those of us who surrender to the will of God that are considered the ones with a true religion. Never leave home without it. Never sleep without it. Never do anything without it. Certainly never die without it.
The Catholics and the Christians also have a similar verse from the bible that they hold dearly and use against other religions. Oh for Heaven’s sake, dear Father, my One and Only, my Savior, do I have to explain this too??? People, call me. I’ll explain it to you personally.
Where are You, God? Why do You let us be so stupid? Why do You let us hurt each other? What do You want us to learn from all this? Is this Your will too? Do I have to surrender to this too? Forgive me, Father. I do love You. I do trust You. But I will never stop questioning You. Hope You don’t mind and hope You’ll answer me one day (while I’m still alive, please). This is me, Father. I’m Your rebellious daughter, knocking helplessly at Your door. These days, I find it so hard to love and there’s so much to hate… Help me…
MOTHER EARTH AND PEOPLE
I have successfully inherited my passion and love for animals and other elements of nature to my kids. Thank God for that. My oldest daughter cried the first time she saw a horse carriage. She thought it was cruel to make a horse transport us around in a carriage. My youngest daughter has even taken things to the next level. She joined and supported many causes for nature conservation and wild animals preservation. But it has been years since we last had a pet. My kids were nagging about it, but fortunately they now understand my reason.
We moved back with my parents because I needed to save money to pay for an apartment that’s still being constructed and would not be ready until the end of next year. And while we live at my parents, having pets means having fights. And I don’t want to fight them anymore. As much as I love animals, I know better now. I know I should never be cruel and hurt others, especially my parents. Just like I ignore the fact that they ignore my religion, I let them believe what they want to believe about animals. They’re old and they’re my parents. They deserve it. That’s my reason for not having pets. Hopefully, when we move to our new apartment, we can at least have a cat or a dog. I promise I won’t have a snake slithering around in my apartment. So it’s safe to visit me. Really.
But as hard as I try to be wiser, my frustration remains. This time, I’m frustrated at people. The more things I’ve gone through and the more things I’ve learned, the more frustrated I am at people.
People who throw rubbish everywhere. People who waste energy. People who cut down rainforests and turn them into oil palm plantations. People who bomb and poison coral reefs. People who over-fish. People who cut down mangroves to make buildings and roads. People who kill endangered animals. People who capture and sell endangered animals. People who consume endangered animals. People who hate nature and animals. People who are ignorant about the environment and insist to remain ignorant. People who don’t realize that we are facing major disasters. People who realize that we are facing major disasters but choose not to care. People who say that they care, but don’t act like it.
Is it really THAT hard to understand? Is it really THAT hard to fall madly in love with Mother Earth? Am I THAT weird? Have I really gone insane?
Apart from the fact that everything in nature is so visually and remarkably stunning (and I can’t understand anyone who can’t see this), is it really so hard to understand that we can’t live alone? The human race can’t survive alone. We need other living beings to survive this crazy, crazy world.
We need trees. Just in case you don’t know, they are living beings too. Not just the pretty-looking ornamental trees in our gardens, but more importantly the huge, bushy, leafy and tall trees in the forests. We need them to produce oxygen for us to breathe. We need them to capture the poisonous carbon we continually produce from our pleasure-seeking lifestyles. We need them to control soil erosion. We need them to prevent floods. We need them to provide us with high-quality fresh water deep in our soil. We need them regulate our climate. WE NEED THEM. What’s so hard to understand?
We need animals. Especially the ones that live in the forests. They are part of a healthy balance that keep the forests lush and fertile. From the humble earthworms that keep the soil rich and productive to the giant orangutans that disperse seeds throughout the forests to grow more and more trees on that rich soil. From the disgustingly slimy frogs to the intimidating tigers. From the scary to the ugly. From the yummy to the beautiful. Everything in the forests has its own important task and works side by side to complete those tasks in order to achieve a common goal: to keep the forests healthy and happy.
We need coral reefs, mangroves and sea grass beds. We need them because these are the nurseries for lives in the sea. Without them, we’ll have no sea creatures at all, except probably the really, really eerie ones in the darkness of deep oceans. We need those sea creatures. Not only because a lot of them are yummy, but also because they are important to keep the oceans healthy and happy. And we need the oceans, because healthy oceans, just like healthy forests, also produce oxygen and regulate our climate. Additionally, the reefs and mangroves are actually God’s “soldiers” put on Earth for us. They help prevent and hold back big waves that can easily destroy us. Yes, like the tsunami. Impacts of a tsunami could be minimized if the reefs and the mangroves in the area are still intact and healthy.
Get the connection now? The trees need animals and we need those trees. So therefore we need animals too. The sea creatures need coral reefs, mangroves and sea grass beds. The oceans need sea creatures to be healthy. We need healthy oceans. Therefore, we need coral reefs, mangroves and sea grass beds. PLUS, we also need them to protect us from angry waves. WE ARE ALL CONNECTED! We can’t live without them. They can’t live without us. And they certainly can’t live if we keep ransacking every single habitat where they live. They can’t live with us killing them all the time. We are the ONLY element of nature that doesn’t want to work side by side with them.
You see, we can’t upset that balance, because it is us that are most at risk in the end. It is us who will pay the hardest consequences. Irregular and unpredictable climate. Horrible water quality. No water at all. Too much water or flood. Landslide. Diseases. Death.
If we really, really, really have to disturb that perfect balance because we too need to develop and grow, then please don’t be greedy. Please be wise. Please be considerate. Thoroughly study everything you need to know first about what you’re about to do, then make a careful plan to minimize the environmental impacts and to manage the unavoidable impacts. There WILL be impacts. But if you are wise, hopefully Mother Earth is also wise enough to let us have our ways. And we can all work together and share this planet and live on it happily.
Otherwise, Mother Earth will be angry and we’ll be left with irregular and unpredictable climate. Horrible water quality. No water at all. Too much water or flood. Landslide. Diseases. Death. What’s so hard to understand?
Where are You, God? Why do You let us be so stupid? Why do You let us hurt each other? Why do You let us hurt Your other creations? What do You want us to learn from all this? Is this Your will too? Do I have to surrender to this too? Forgive me, Father. I do love You. I do trust You. But I will never stop questioning You. Hope You don’t mind and hope You’ll answer me one day (while I’m still alive, please). This is me, Father. I’m Your rebellious daughter, knocking helplessly at Your door. These days, I find it so hard to love and there’s so much to hate… Help me…
*****
so you scream from behind your door
say what's mine is mine and not yours
I may have too much but I'll take my chances
'cause God's stopped keeping score
and you cling to the things they sold you
did you cover your eyes when they told you
that He can't come back
'cause He has no children to come back for
and it's hard to love, there's so much to hate
hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
and the wounded skies above say it's much too late
well maybe we should all be praying for time
- George Michael -
- George Michael -
2 comments:
lo ngomel gara2 artikel yg kemaren yak?? haha.."fresh from the oven", di babat, di masukkin ke oven biar rontok bulu2nya.
this is why, i despised animal cruelty, i love natures so much..especially the ocean, so it kills me when i see people slowly start to destroy the ocean, I grew up in the ocean...deuuu little mermaid kali..apa gara2 anak seribu pulau? hahaha...there's so many things that i can do and see in YOUR beloved country..
haha udah ah mbak, kentang kentang deh loo...gue jadi ngerasa curhat colongan gini..ahahahhaha
u grew up in the ocean? little mermaid? wahahahahahaha you're more like a puffer fish yg kalo marah gembungin badan n bukannya keliatan nakutin, malah tambah cute and lucu :-)
thanks ya ugz!!!
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