Bhyllabus l'énigme

Almost one month ago, Bali had entered its rain season this year. My family always call me to make sure everything were fine while I’m in Yogyakarta. And my answer always the same, if Yogyakarta is always sunny as ever (I felt like the climax of a global warming effect every day).

I think Jogja (the nickname for Yogyakarta) will never be in a heavy rainy season for an extended period. As long as I remember, only last year the rainy season last long enough. Hah…, I always got busted by the rains. They never let me breathe easily on my daily activities, every year I must get a new umbrella because the older one already broke in a year (maybe I’m too careless with gadgets). But, other than the sunny days, the charming night clouds, the rain is also my dearest friend. Except when they made me rolling down on the mud hill along in the enchanted forest under the dark night of nowhere. Lucky I weren’t alone that time, I mean some friends who have the public also works there. We were the part of Public Health Field Study Group on Dusun Sungapan II (I wrote the single article about this – excluding the incident – on K3M in Bahasa Indonesia).

The photograph above remembering me my ugly face along searching the way back home, how ridiculous but what a memorable moment.

Well, that is not my writing for this post obviously about. That is just a bonus prologue.

Some other night this week, I found a strange feeling within myself. That feeling somehow become thicker and thicker. Without any trigger, I felt tears were flowing down with a breezing sensation that kept me in silent. After that, a simultaneous sound of rain came as if them falling and jumping down gently from the sky to every living above the earth. While I touched by the breezes which came from the ventilation above my room, they brought with them the very fragments of celestial tears to me. I felt the warmth that swept away all the burdens within my broken, clustering mind.

On the morning, I saw the roofs, the plants, grounds, paths, and all the village was covered my this sensation, a memory of the rains. Even the gray clouds didn’t let the sun shines just yet, I saw the gentle nature around everything where the living is about to begin. This is their memoirs’ and hello’s, let me see that everything would be alright.

I remember one beautiful anthem which a friend fill as part of her page’s theme. It is “Look at the World” composed by John Rutter and published by Oxford University Press.

Look at the world, everything all around us
Look at the world and marvel every day.
Look at the world: so many joys and wonders,
So many miracles along our way
Praise to thee, O Lord for all creation.
Give us thankful hearts that we may see
All the gifts we share, and every blessing,
All things come of thee.
Look at the earth bringing forth fruit and flower,
Look at the sky, the sunshine, and the rain.
Look at the hills, look at the trees and mountains,
Valley and flowing river, field, and plain.
Think of the spring, think of the warmth of summer
Bringing the harvest before winter’s cold.
Everything grows, everything has a season,
till it is gathered to the Father’s fold:
Every good gift, all that we need and cherish.
Comes from the Lord in token of his love
We are his hands, stewards of all his bounty
His is the earth and his the heavens above

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