Selasa, 27 Januari 2026

Human Angels

 


The smell of antiseptic in a sterile hospital room has a weight that can crush a man’s ribs. Christopher Reeve lay anchored to a bed by the sudden, brutal gravity of a broken neck, feeling the world shrink to the size of a ventilator tube. He was paralyzed.  

Then, the door swung open with a violent, joyful friction.

A man in a surgical scrub suit burst into the room, snapping latex gloves and barking in a high-pitched, manic Russian accent. He claimed to be a proctologist. Reeve, who had been contemplating the end of his own existence, felt a strange, forgotten vibration deep in his diaphragm. 

He laughed. For the first time since the accident that had severed his spine, the man who had played Superman realized that he still possessed a soul.

The figure behind the mask was Robin Williams.

This wasn't a performance for the cameras or a bit for a late-night talk show; it was a rescue mission fueled by a friendship that had been forged decades earlier in the dusty rehearsal halls of Juilliard. 

Back in 1973, they were the only two students selected for the Advanced Program, a pair of opposites who became each other's equilibrium. Reeve was the statuesque, classical powerhouse with a voice like polished mahogany. 

Williams was the frantic, kaleidoscopic genius who seemed to be leaking light from every pore.

They were a study in contrast. One was marble, the other mercury. Yet, they shared a secret language that transcended their differing temperaments. 

While the world saw a tragedy in Reeve’s paralysis, Williams saw his brother trapped in a tower and resolved to climb it every single day. Their bond became a testament to the idea that friendship is not just a social contract, but a survival strategy.

The narrative of their lives often feels like a scripted irony—the strongest man in the world rendered immobile, and the funniest man in the world fighting a private, silent darkness. 

But in the years following the accident, their connection deepened into something sacred and tangible. Williams didn't just offer jokes; he offered his presence as a bulwark against the despair that threatens to swallow a person when their body becomes a cage. 

He became a primary benefactor for the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation, using his celebrity as a megaphone to demand progress in spinal cord research.



He was the wind beneath the broken cape. When Reeve worried about the mounting medical bills and the logistical nightmare of his new reality, Williams stepped in with a quiet, fierce generosity that he never publicized. 

He made sure the family was cared for, not out of pity, but out of a profound sense of loyalty that dated back to their days sharing cheap meals in New York City. They had promised to look out for each other when they had nothing, and they kept that promise when they had everything to lose.

Their friendship suggests that the most powerful thing one human can do for another is to bear witness to their pain without flinching. Williams never looked at Reeve with the "sad eyes" of the public; he looked at him as the same formidable actor and friend he had always been. 

This recognition was a lifeline. It allowed Reeve to transition from a victim of circumstance to a champion for others, turning his chair into a throne of advocacy.

When Reeve passed away in 2004, a piece of Williams seemed to dim, a shadow falling over the manic energy that had defined him. The world lost a hero, but Robin lost his mirror. 

At the funeral, Williams was desperate, openly weeping as he stood as an unwavering witness to the love he had lost. The man who could summon laughter with a glance was seen quietly wrestling with a sorrow that no joke could cure—the profound, aching silence of his best friend's absence.

The tragedy of their ending—Williams’ own struggle and eventual passing years later—paints a moving  picture of two stars that burned brightly because they shared the same orbit. 

Love, in its purest form, can overcome even the hardest parts of life. Even when the body fails, the memory of a shared laugh can last through time.

We Are Human Angels

Authors

Awakening the Human Spirit

We are the authors of 'We Are Human Angels,' the book that has spread a new vision of the human experience and has been spontaneously translated into 14 languages by readers.

We hope our writing sparks something in you!


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Minggu, 25 Januari 2026

John Steinback

 


His name was John Steinbeck. He believed something many people in power did not want to hear. Listening to poor and ignored people can be dangerous for those who benefit from silence.

In 1939, in Salinas, California, Steinbeck’s hometown, a crowd gathered downtown. They brought copies of a new novel, not to read it, but to burn it in public.

The book was The Grapes of Wrath, published on April 14, 1939. The author was Steinbeck, a local man who many felt had betrayed them.

They piled the books together and set them on fire. As the pages burned, they believed they were protecting their town. Instead, they showed exactly why the book mattered.

In the mid 1930s, California’s farm valleys were filled with desperate families called Okies. They had fled the Dust Bowl, hoping to find work in California. What they found was hunger, low pay, and abuse.

Families lived in dirty camps. They picked fruit for wages too small to live on. The children went hungry. Landowners used force to stop workers from organizing.

Many Americans did not know about this. Others did not care. Some believed the migrants deserved their suffering.

Steinbeck wanted to know the truth.

He did not study these people from far away. He lived with them. He wore worn clothes, stayed in their camps, worked beside them, and listened to their stories.

He saw children weakened by hunger. He saw families living in shocking conditions. He saw workers cheated out of pay and beaten when they spoke up.

He wrote down everything he saw.

The novel followed the Joad family, farmers pushed off their land in Oklahoma by drought and banks. They traveled to California looking for work and found a system built to use their misery.

The story was fiction, but it was based on real life. Steinbeck had seen it himself. The book was honest and painful. It angered people who wanted poverty to stay hidden.

When the book came out in 1939, the reaction was fast and harsh. Powerful farm groups in California called it lies. Landowners said it was propaganda. Politicians demanded it be banned.

In Kern County, officials removed it from libraries and schools that same year. In Salinas, people burned it in public. The book was banned and challenged in many places. Steinbeck received threats. His family was harassed. But something else happened at the same time.

The book sold more than 400,000 copies in its first year. It won the Pulitzer Prize in 1940. It forced Americans to see a reality many leaders wanted ignored.

Eleanor Roosevelt defended it. Groups that helped migrant workers shared it widely. The country could not look away.

And the FBI opened a file on Steinbeck.

For many years, the FBI collected information on Steinbeck. His writing kept appearing in fights about labor, poverty, and loyalty to America.

The released files are more than one hundred pages long. They never proved he was a member of the Communist Party. He was not. He was a writer who believed ordinary people mattered. He wrote what he saw, even when it made others uncomfortable.

That alone made him a target.

Steinbeck was born on February 27, 1902, in Salinas. His father worked as a county treasurer. His mother was a schoolteacher. The family lived a stable middle-class life.

He could have stayed comfortable and safe. Instead, he spent his twenties working hard jobs. He was a ranch hand, fruit picker, builder, and surveyor. He was learning how working people really lived.

His early success came with Tortilla Flat in 1935, about Mexican American life in Monterey. Then, In Dubious Battle in 1936, about striking farm workers. Then, Of Mice and Men in 1937, about traveling laborers.

Each book moved closer to people pushed aside by society. Each showed where Steinbeck’s loyalty was.

 Then came The Grapes of Wrath, and everything changed.

When his hometown turned against him and powerful groups attacked him, Steinbeck did not stop writing. He kept going.

After The Grapes of Wrath, he wrote Cannery Row in 1945 about working-class Monterey. He later wrote East of Eden, his most ambitious work, about good and evil in California’s history.

During World War II, he worked as a war reporter. He focused on soldiers, not generals, and on daily life, not grand plans. He continued to write about people who were ignored and mistreated. Slowly, the country began to understand him.

By the 1960s, The Grapes of Wrath was taught in schools, even in places where it had once been banned. The book, once called dangerous, was now called a classic.

In 1962, Steinbeck won the Nobel Prize in Literature. The committee praised his realistic writing and deep concern for human dignity. In simple terms, he told the truth about ordinary lives with care and skill.

Success did not erase the damage.

Steinbeck struggled with depression later in life. All three of his marriages ended. His relationships with his sons were difficult.

The anger and criticism never fully disappeared. In 1968, at age 66, Steinbeck died in New York City.

Today, Steinbeck’s books are read around the world.

The Grapes of Wrath is required reading in many schools. Of Mice and Men is one of the most taught novels in America. East of Eden is widely seen as a great American novel.

But his true legacy is larger than awards or sales. He wrote about people whom many others ignored. He showed that poverty is not a personal failure, but a result of broken systems. He insisted that suffering should be seen and questioned.

For that, his book was burned. He was attacked and watched. He was called a traitor in his own town.

He could have written safer stories. He chose not to. The book they burned now sits on library shelves everywhere.

That is what happens when someone writes the truth and refuses to look away.

{PS}

Kamis, 22 Januari 2026

Edgar Allan Poe

 


He made nine dollars from the most famous poem in American history.

A dead drunk nobody invented modern detective fiction, horror literature, and science fiction. All while earning almost nothing.

Edgar Allan Poe was 40 years old when he died.

Broke. 

Alone. 

Found delirious on the streets of Baltimore.

Everyone said he was a failure.

“Just a drunk who wrote weird stories.”

“Never made any real money.”

“Died in a gutter like a nobody.”

They couldn’t have been more wrong.

Here’s what Poe built that no one saw coming:

He was orphaned before age 3. His foster father disowned him. 

He got kicked out of West Point. 

He watched his young wife die slowly of tuberculosis while he couldn’t afford to keep her warm.

Every door slammed in his face.

But Poe had something no one could take from him.

The ability to see darkness clearly. And turn it into words that burned into people’s minds.

When everyone else was writing polite poetry about flowers and nature, Poe wrote about murder. Madness. 

The terror hiding inside ordinary people.

Editors rejected him constantly.

“Too dark.”

“Too strange.”

“No one wants to read this.”

He didn’t listen.

He kept writing. 

Kept submitting. 

Kept getting rejected. 

Kept going anyway.

Then came “The Murders in the Rue Morgue.”

The first detective story ever written. 

The template that every crime novel, every mystery show, every procedural drama still follows today.

Before Poe, detective fiction didn’t exist.

He invented it.

Then came “The Raven.”

It made him famous overnight. 

People memorized it. 

Quoted it everywhere. 

It spread across the country.

And Poe made about nine dollars from it.

Nine dollars.

For a poem that’s been read by hundreds of millions of people.

He died poor. 

Alone. 

Unknown by most of the world.

But here’s what happened after.

Arthur Conan Doyle read Poe and created Sherlock Holmes. 

Said Poe’s detective was the model for everything that followed.

H.P. Lovecraft read Poe and built cosmic horror on his foundation.

Stephen King read Poe and called him the father of American horror.

Every detective show you watch. 

Every horror movie that makes you check the locks at night. 

Every psychological thriller that gets inside your head.

Poe built the blueprint.

Today his work is translated into every major language. 

Taught in every school. Referenced in every corner of popular culture.

All from a man who died thinking he was a failure.

He never saw any of it.

Never got rich. 

Never got recognition. 

Never got to see his influence spread across the entire world.

But he kept writing anyway.

Because he understood something most people don’t.

Your work doesn’t have to pay off in your lifetime to matter.

Your impact doesn’t have to be visible to you to be real.

Sometimes you plant seeds you’ll never see grow.

What story are you not telling because you think no one wants to hear it?

What work are you abandoning because it’s not paying off fast enough?

What creative risk are you avoiding because the world says it’s too dark, too weird, too different?

Poe watched his wife die. 

Lost every job he ever had. 

Got paid almost nothing for his best work. 

Died alone in the street.

And still became one of the most influential writers in human history.

Because he never stopped doing the work.

He never let rejection silence him.

He never let poverty stop him.

He never let anyone else’s opinion define what he created.

Your circumstances don’t determine your legacy.

Your consistency does.

Your commitment does.

Your willingness to keep going when everyone says quit.

That’s what separates people who change the world from people who just complain about it.

Poe had every excuse to give up.

He used none of them.

Stop waiting for permission. 

Stop waiting for payment. 

Stop waiting for recognition.

Do the work.

Tell your story.

Let the world catch up later.

Think Big.

{PS}

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The Brighter Side

 



๐Ÿ‘  An Inspiring Story

A famous writer was in his study room. He picked up his pen and started writing :

**Last year, I had a surgery and my gall bladder was removed. I had to stay stuck to the bed due to this surgery for a long time. 

**The same year I reached the age of 60 years and had to give up my favourite job. I had spent 30 years of my life in this publishing company. 

**The same year I experienced the sorrow of the death of my father.

**And in the same year my son failed in his medical exam because he had a car accident. He had to stay in bed at hospital with the cast on for several days. The destruction of car was another loss. 

At the end he wrote: Oh God! It was such bad year !! 

When the writer's wife entered the room, she found her husband looking sad & lost in his thoughts. From behind his back she read what was written on the paper. She left the room silently and came back with another paper and placed it on side of her husband's writing.

When the writer saw this paper, he found his name written on it with following lines :

**Last year I finally got rid of my gall bladder due to which I had spent years in pain....

**I turned 60 with sound health and got retired from my job. Now I can utilize my time to write something better with more focus and peace.....

**The same year my father, at the age of 95, without depending on anyone or without any critical condition met his Creator.....

 **The same year, God blessed my son with a new life. My car was destroyed but my son stayed alive without getting any disability......

At the end she wrote: 

This year was an immense blessing of God and it passed well !!!

 The writer was indeed happy and amazed at such beautiful and encouraging interpretation of the happenings in his life in that year !!!

Moral : In daily lives we must see that its not happiness that makes us grateful but gratefulness that makes us happy. ❤

【PS】

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Selasa, 06 Januari 2026

Humor versus Lawak

 


๐—•๐—ฒ๐—ฑ๐—ฎ ๐—›๐˜‚๐—บ๐—ผ๐—ฟ ๐—ฑ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ถ ๐—Ÿ๐—ฎ๐˜„๐—ฎ๐—ธ


Lawak, yang kerap kita saksikan di televisi Indonesia tempo dulu (sekarang saya jarang menonton siaran lawak TV), adalah mengolok-olok, mencela, dan menertawai orang lain. Ada pihak yang dirundung secara sengaja untuk menciptakan lelucon. Ada pihak lain yang dikorbankan, dijadikan kobokan, objek penderita. Tentu orang tidak lupa pada Pak Bรจndot yang selalu menjadi korban lawakan Srimulat.


๐—›๐˜‚๐—บ๐—ผ๐—ฟ ๐—ท๐˜‚๐˜€๐˜๐—ฟ๐˜‚ ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐˜๐—ผ๐—น๐—ฎ๐—ธ ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐—น๐—ฎ๐—ธ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ด ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—ด๐—ฎ๐—ป ๐—น๐—ฎ๐˜„๐—ฎ๐—ธ. Humor justru mencela, mengolok-olok, dan menertawai diri sendiri, keluarga sendiri, kelompok sendiri, suku sendiri, bahkan bangsa sendiri. Humor mengalihrupa (๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ) tragedi hidup dirinya menjadi lelucon. Mark Twain mengatakan bahwa sumber humor adalah penderitaan, kebodohan, dan kesengsaraan diri sendiri. ๐—ฃ๐—ฒ๐—น๐—ฎ๐˜„๐—ฎ๐—ธ ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ป๐˜†๐—ฒ๐—บ๐—ฏ๐˜‚๐—ป๐˜†๐—ถ๐—ธ๐—ฎ๐—ป ๐—ฐ๐—ฎ๐—ฐ๐—ฎ๐˜ ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—ด๐—ฎ๐—ป ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—ด๐—ผ๐—น๐—ผ๐—ธ-๐—ผ๐—น๐—ผ๐—ธ ๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ด ๐—น๐—ฎ๐—ถ๐—ป, ๐˜๐—ฒ๐˜๐—ฎ๐—ฝ๐—ถ ๐—ท๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—ฎ๐—ธ๐—ฎ๐˜„๐—ฎ๐—ป ๐˜€๐—ฒ๐—ท๐—ฎ๐˜๐—ถ ๐—ท๐˜‚๐˜€๐˜๐—ฟ๐˜‚ ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐˜๐—ผ๐—ป๐˜๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ธ๐—ฎ๐—ป ๐—ฐ๐—ฎ๐—ฐ๐—ฎ๐˜ ๐—ฑ๐—ถ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐—ป๐˜†๐—ฎ ๐—ธ๐—ฒ๐—ฝ๐—ฎ๐—ฑ๐—ฎ ๐—ฑ๐˜‚๐—ป๐—ถ๐—ฎ. Presiden Gus Dur ketika didesak mundur oleh lawan politiknya dengan enteng beliau menjawab: “๐˜”๐˜ข๐˜ซ๐˜ถ ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ซ๐˜ข ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ข ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ช ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฉ, ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ช ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ถ๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ.”


Keterusterangan dan kejujuran memang menakutkan. Jenakawan sejati senantiasa mampu menemukan humor dalam momen yang serius, termasuk tragedi dalam hidupnya, dialihrupakan menjadi lelucon. Saya terus belajar bagaimana menghumor, menertawai diri sendiri. Tidak ada yang dibanggakan nilai sekolah saya. Di perguruan tinggi IPK saya megap-megap. Kerap rekan kerja saya bertanya mengenai sekolah saya.


“๐˜’๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ข ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ข, ๐˜๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ?“ tanya rekan saya.

“๐˜Œ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ฉ ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ.“ jawab saya.

“๐˜’๐˜ฐ๐˜ฒ ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ข?”

“๐˜๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ฏ๐˜บ๐˜ข ๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ข ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฉ.”


Ia tertawa ๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ dan berhenti bertanya. Apa yang terjadi jika saya menjawab dengan alasan lain? Saya meyakini ia akan mengejar terus dengan pertanyaan tidak penting dan saya akan menguras energi melakukan pembelaan.


Saya dapat menunjukkan lagi bahwa humor bersumber dari penderitaan hidup. Ketika anda melakukan reuni mengapa anda bisa tertawa-tiwi tanpa henti saat bertemu sobat-sobat lama? Tentu saja anda menertawai penderitaan masa lalu entah itu kekonyolan saat sekolah, entah itu diusir guru dari kelas, entah itu ditolak oleh bakal calon pacar, entah itu jual celana jins demi bisa menonton ๐˜Ž๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ ๐˜‰๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด, dan lain sejenisnya. Penderitaan bahkan tragedi saat sekolah anda alihrupakan menjadi lelucon yang menghibur diri anda dan orang lain. Dari  sini anda sebenarnya berbakat menjadi jenakawan sejati.


๐—›๐˜‚๐—บ๐—ผ๐—ฟ ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ป๐˜‚๐—ป๐—ท๐˜‚๐—ธ๐—ธ๐—ฎ๐—ป ๐—ธ๐—ฒ๐˜„๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ฎ๐˜€๐—ฎ๐—ป. Bangsa ini kurang waras karena lebih gemar melawak, yaitu sibuk mencari dan menunjuk cacat-cacat orang lain. Mereka lupa melihat cacat diri sendiri. Selama orang tidak bisa berhumor, selama itu pula orang tidak waras. 


Juga jangan berharap humor ada di surga karena sumber humor adalah penderitaan atau cacat diri sendiri. Konon surga itu isinya senang-senang, bahagia, jingkrak-jingkrak, tidak ada penderitaan, tidak ada cacat. Itulah sebabnya tidak ada humor di surga.


“๐˜Œ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜บ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ค. ๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ง ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ซ๐˜ฐ๐˜บ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ. ๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ถ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ.” Mark Twain


MDS 

Dari akun fesbuk Efron Bayern

Kamis, 04 Desember 2025

Banjir Bandang dalam Keyakinan Orang Jawa

 Dari wall Andi Setiono di facebook



BANJIR BANDANG DALAM KEYAKINAN ORANG JAWA 


Tulisan ini harus diawali cara pandang manusia modern, yang selalu menyalahkan anomali alam sebagai penyebab banjir bandang. Para cerdik pandai itu, pada intinya selalu menyalahkan perubahan cuaca ekstrem yang pada akhirnya menimbulkan curahan air yang luar besar.  Dan bila air sudah tak tertampung, ketika hujan sedemikian lama dan tinggi di daerah atas. Maka banjir bandang hanyalah suatu keniscayaan.


Cara berpikir demikian lah yang menyebabkan banjir bandang selalu berulang. Seolah arisan, ia berpindah dari satu titik ke titik lainnya. Alam selalu salah, manusianya tidak!


Sebelum lebih lanjut, perlu dijelaskan beda banjir biasa dan banjir bandang.  Intinya sama2 daratan kelebihan air, tanah tak mampu menyerap lalu air meluap ke segala arah. Banjir konon bisa diantisipasi, tapi bandang tidak. Ia selalu datang mendadak dengan materi bawaan apa saja. Tergantung jalur air yang dilewatinya. Jika ia melewati rumah di pinggiran sungai, ya bangunan itu kentir. Jika rumpun bambu yang dianggap sebagai penahan erosi, ia pun amblas. Ia seperti pasir hisap: ngrawut, ngangkut!


Sebagai anak yang tumbuh di daerah bantaran sungai. Kampung kami cuma sepelemparan batu dari Kali Code. Kali yang betul2 membelah kota Jogja menjadi dua dalam segala aspeknya. Banjir bandang bagi warga kampung kami bukanlah selalu bencana. Ia adalah tontonan yang membuat hati anak2 kecil seperti saya gembira. Sedemikian gembiranya dari atas Jembatan Merah, kami menontonnya dengan penuh kegembiraan. Tudang tuding, bercengkerama, hahaha... (bangsat memang kami, di masa kecil!)


Oh ya sedikit berbelok, dulu Jembatan Merah, kami menyebutnya Kreteg Abang itu debatable.  Ketika pertama kali dibangun, ia adalah jembatan yang menghubungkan secara langsung Kraton Yogyakarta dan Pura Pakualaman. Ia membelah antara kampung Sayidan dan Bintaran di sisi Selatan, dan Kampung Ratmakan dan Jagalan di sisi Utara. Semula memang diwarnai merah, tetapi mungkin karena merah diasosikan sebagai sesuatu yang kiri. Kemudian dicat brom atau silver.


Sedangkan Jembatan Merah yang kecil, letaknya kurang lebih 300 meter ke arah utara. Menghubungkan Ledok Mataram dan area kawasan Jayengprawiran. Saya sebut demikian karena tidak hanya orang dari Kampung Jagalan Beji, tetapi juga Purwokinanti yang bermaksud  pergi menuju Pasar Beringharjo atau Malioboro lebih suka melewati jembatan ini. Di sisi kanan kiri kreteg cilik ini dulu banyak pancuran mata air. Kami menyebutknya belik. 


Tak heran bila kampung di atasnya disebut Jagalan Beji untuk membedakan dengan kampung di utaranya yang di sebut Jagalan Ledoksari. Sekarang lenyap tak berbekas, atas nama pembangunan. Di sisi kiri kanan sungai ditalud, hanya agar masyarakat kampung yang tmeluber di si sungai tak membuang sampah ke kali. Walau realitasnya, sama saja! Mentalitas publik tak akan pernah bisa dperbaiki oeh sekedar pembangunan fisik.


Nah di atas kedua jembatan ini, kami selalu menunggu moment2 terjadinya banjir bandang.  Begitulah kekurang-ajaran orang kota. Di atas musibah, di bawah jadi berkah.  Banjir bandang tak pernah lama, sekira 2-3 jam saja. Tapi apa yang dihanyutkan (kami menyebutkan "sing kentir"), selalu menarik untuk ditonton. Tentu saja yang paling umum adalah gelondongan kayu, bongkotan bambu. Tapi tak jarang rumah seatap2nya, bahkan sapi2 yang berurutan karena mungkin berasal dari satu kandang.


Lalu apa maknanya banjir bandang itu bagi orang Jawa.


Dahulu dalam ilmu persilatan atau susastra Jawa lama terdapat adagium "banjir bandang, segara asat". Ini sebuah ironi dalam masyarakat Jawa. Kenapa ketika terjadi banjir bandang, tetapi lautan malah mengering?  Inilah yang disebut terjadinya sirkulasi energi, perpindahan daya yang terlalu besar yang justru berujung pada kekosongan.  Ledakan daya itu bisa apa saja: kemarahan, kedengkian, kesombongan, bahkan kecemburuan. 


Ia adalah energi negatif, sesuatu yang untuk orang modern malah sering dimaknai sebagai sumber motivasi. Energi negatif inilah yang pada akhirnya akan berujung pada kehampaan diri, kebingungan dan ketidakberdayaan yang semakin akut. Sesuatu yang diisyaratkan sebagai segara asat, samudra mengering.


Segara asat menandakan bagaimana manusia akibat keserakahannya pada akhirnya seperti "meminum air laut". Sesuatu yang mustahil menyembuhkan rasa dahaga.  Ia adalah cermin masyarakat hari ini, yang agamanya sesungguhnya di satu sisi sombong, di sisi lain serakah.  Kesombongan dalam bentuk paling sederhana adalah menghargai diri terlalu, sembari menisbikan keberadaan liyan.  Dimana kita tak peduli lagi kepentingan orang lain, baik itu di jalanan, tempat kerja, bahkan di rumah yang seharusnya menjadi tempat paling aman dan nyaman. 


Mungkin solidaritas di hari ini masih muncul dalam lingkaran  terbatas seperti komunitas, rumah yang dianggap masih aman karena merasa masih "sejalan". Bahkan dalam banyak kasus, mencoba mengulang "keindahan masa lalu" dalam bentuk "reuni sekolah tanpa akhir".  Hanya sekedar menemukan tempat persembunyian baru, hilang sejenak akibat berada di situasi lagi2 "banjir bandang, segara asat" itu tadi.


Dahulu orang Jawa, di samping "hari" sangat peduli terhadap "weton". Bahkan di kalangan petani, hal ini semakin rumit dengan "pranata mangsa". Dimana nilai sesungguhnya adalah bagaimana manusia menyelaraskan seluruh sendi kehidupannya dalam lingkaran kuasa alam.  Tapi semenjak era modernisasi muncul, lalu asketisme digantikan mula2 dengan mekanisasi lalu semakin parah ketika digitalisasi muncul.  Dimana seoalah2 tidak diperlukan lagi ingatan atau catatan, karena semua secara instan diperoleh melalui kuasa gadget.  


Adagium paling absurd bagi Jawa, dimulai ketika ia berbicara: semua hari adalah baik. Lucunya justru outpunya nasib mereka tidak pernah baik2 saja....


Bagi orang Jawa tradisional, musibah atau bencana itu selalu memberikan tanda2. Biasanya orang yang mampu membacanya disebut "waskita". Seorang yang isa weruh sak durunge winarah, manusia yang bisa melihat sebelum peristiwa terjadi. Tapi kepekaan lahiriah dan batiniah seperti ini sudah digantikan oleh agama yang munculnya dari arah Barat.  Yang tidak banyak orang tahu, "Barat" sendiri dalam bahasa Jawa maknanya adalah bencana berbentuk angin topan.  


Dalam kungkungan badai, lesus, puting beliung inilah di hari ini kita hidup. Menjelaskan kenapa kita terus berpusar.


Sekali lagi banjir bandang itu bukanlah hal yang seketika. Ia menjadi bandang sebagai tumpukan dosa, kesalahan, kengawuran, kesembronoan, semua hal jelek yang melekat pada diri manusia. Ia akan muncul di titik dimana, semua tak tertahankan lagi. Ia akan jebol, meluluh lantakkan apa saja yang ada di depannya. Selamanya ia akan menjadi alat pengingat. Bahwa sesungguhnya manusia hanya nunut urip, numpang hidup di alam semesta yang sesungguhnya jauh lebih berkuasa.  


Di sini istilah manusia adalah kalifah di muka bumi menemukan kenyataan yang menyedihkan.  Hingga kita percaya dan mengerti, Tuhan apa pun nama dan bentuknya akan selalu berbicara melalui kuasa alamnya itu!


Selalu begitu, selamanya begitu...

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NB: Dalam ilmu politik kekuasaan, untuk membedakan dengan politik etis. Etik negatif "banjir bandang segara asat" itu nyaris dianut oleh seluruh Presiden RI khususnya yang berasal dari Suku Jawa.  Terkait bagaimana jalan ia menuju kuasa, mencoba melanggengkannya, dan lalu jatuh dipermalukannya. Sial betul, nyaris tak ada satu pun dari delapan presiden di Indonesia yang tak  mengalaminya.  Semua harus menanggung rasa malu akibat karma yang dipilihnya. Hanya karena ia merasa sudah banyak melakukan dharma.


Mari kitak dedah sejak Soekarno, yang jasanya selalu disimplifikasi sebagai Bapak Proklamator.  Glorifikasi yang memaksa kita lupa bahwa ia punya kegagalan dalam mensejahterakan rakyatnya.  Ia adalah satu2nya presiden yang memalumatkan dirinya sebagai presiden seumur hidup. Semena2 melakukan kawin cerai sebanyak 9 kali, tanpa merasa bersalah walau rakyatnya kelaparan.  Hingga ia dijatuhkan oleh sebuah konspirasi internasional yang dikomandani Suharto. 


Sebaliknya Suharto yang sangat belajar dari pengalaman Sukarno, ia memang sangat berupaya memperbaiki kesalahan Sukarno. Ia melakukannya dengan menjaga stabilisai politik dan pertumbuhan ekonomi. Apa yang kemudian dianggap salah, karena justru yang paling diuntungkan anak2 dan kerabatnya sendiri.  Demokrasi semu yang ia bangun kemudian memaksanya mundur, bukan karena demo dan rusuh. Tetapi karena dikhianati oleh anak buah yang selama ini ia pilih sendiri.


Periode Habibie, Guss Dur dan Megawati tentu saja tak terlalu menarik dibahas dalam konteks ke-Jawa-an. Ketiganya adalah anomali sekaligus presedensial (tolong bedakan dengan  presidensial), dan karenanya tak menyisakan banyak kenangan baik atau buruk. Habibie hanya presiden lungsuran, Gus Dur adalah presiden kompromi, dan Megawati adalah presiden degradasi.  Sial betul, kecarut marutan awal reformasi harus berlanjut pada sikap oportunis "manusia politik kekuasaan sejati" pada diri SBY.


SBY tentu saja naik dengan metode playing victim dan sokongan dana nyaris tak terbatas dari CIA dan Partai Demokrat AS.  Ia mencoba mengembalikan bargaining position negeri Paman Sam yang nyaris hilang di masa awal reformasi.  Tapi karena kelihaannya dalam berpolitik itu, ia sama sekali tak lihat dalam bagaimana membangun masa depan bangsanya. 


Ia selalu bermain dalam "dunia pencitraan", sesuatu yang kelak di masa akhir jabatannya justru membunuhnya secara abadi. Di masa inilah, ia memberi rusaknya kohesi masyarakat, dengan menempatkan kaum ekstremis beragama. Ia merubah watak masyarakatnya bermental pengemis dengan berbagai macam subsisi yang seharusnya tak perlu. Bila ada orang yang pantas disebut sebagai biang kerok gagalnya reformasi, dia lah orangnya. 


Dan pada puncaknya adalah masa Jokowi dan Prabowo. Beda dengan cara berpikir publik, saya lebih percaya bahwa keduanya sesungguhnya adalah semacam tali-temali.  Sekalipun dalam du akli Pilpres tahun masa Jokowi, seolah2 mereka berseberangan. Tapi apa yang dilakukan Jokowi dengan mendukung Prabowo adalah bentuk kedewasan berdemokrasi, yang kelak akan abadi dicatat dalam sejarah negeri ini.


Menjelaskan mengapa nyaris tak ada yang baru dan luar biasa ketika masa pemerintahan Jokowi berakhir.  Keduanya adalah pelaku sejati "banjir bandang segara asat", dalam meminjam energi musuhnya untuk menjatuhkan lawannya sembari melanggengkan eksistensinya. Ia tak butuh isu, karena lawan2nya akan selalu mencarinya. Hanya sekedar mempermalukan dirinya sendiri. Terbukti bahwa apa pun fitnah atau korekan masa lalu dari keduanya, lenyap tak berdasar dan berbekas.

Sesungguhnya ajaran "banjir bandang, segara asat" itu adalah bentuk lain dari Machiavelianis yang jauh belakangan lahir. 

Sejarah Jawa sudah jauh hari menemukan dan mempraktekkannya. Menjelaskan kenapa sejak dulu arah perpindahan manusia di Jawa selalu mengarah ke Timur. Karena ia selalu menyusuri jalan "ke-Timur-an", berupaya menemukan kesucian lahir. Dan Bukan ke-Barat yang sebagaimana di atas dianggap menantang badai. Nah, sedikit paham kan kenapa di sisi Barat kekacauan sedemikian mudah terjadi.

Bandang itu selalu banjir. Tetapi tidak selalu banjir itu adalah bandang. Sebagaimana juga pesan itu adalah janji, tapi tidak berarti janji itu adalah pesan. 

Sayangnya kita di hari ini, sering lebih menyukai dan mempercayai janji daripada pesan!

Senin, 24 November 2025

Meryl Streep

 Copied from one page on facebook

Meryl Streep once said: Let things fall apart. Stop exhausting yourself trying to hold them together. Not everything is meant to endure, and forcing what is already breaking will only leave you drained. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is loosen your grip and simply let go.

Let people be upset. Let them misunderstand you. Let them judge, criticize, or create their own stories. Their opinions mirror their inner world, not your value. You do not owe explanations to those determined to misread you. You are not responsible for how others interpret your honesty or respond to your truth.

Stop fearing what you cannot see. Stop asking, What now? Where next? as if the universe has not held you through every moment so far. Loss can feel unbearable, yet often it is just clearing space for something far greater. What is meant to leave will leave, no matter how tightly you cling. What is meant for you will stay, no matter how uncertain the path seems. Life has its own balance, even when we cannot sense it.

There is a rhythm to existence, a natural flow of endings and beginnings. When we resist it, we create our own suffering. We cling to what is already slipping away, afraid that nothing good will come to replace it. But that fear is a lie. The universe is abundant, always opening new doors, offering new love, new purpose, new chances. The only thing standing between you and what comes next is your attachment to what no longer fits your life.

And never believe that your best days are behind you. Hardship does not mean the beauty has ended. There is still joy waiting for you, still love to receive, still peace to claim. But you must make room for it.

So ask yourself, What am I holding onto that is holding me back? And when you find the answer, trust yourself enough to release it. Something better is already on its way.