No matter how harsh the world is, there are people who do not allow it to ruin their gentle compassionate hearts. Tonight, I just witnessed one of them.

(Found this diary entry and think that the realization might be useful to someone else too. I decided to post it with minor editing to keep the people in the story unrevealed.)

I just finished one of my classes this evening when a friend asked for my approval to let another classmate be our teammate. That day the lecturer asked us to form a group and we’ve promised each other to be teammates since the beginning of the term. He directly turned to me when the class ended and dropped the name of someone who wanted to be on the same team as us. Among the students we could pick from, he argued that we needed to get this person into the team. I wondered why he decided to take someone who I considered didn't academically perform well in the class to be a groupmate. However, I respect his decision thus I nodded. Of course, I still had the curiosity while saying “bye and I’ll see you next week” to him when we were almost separated. He was supposed to go to the car park while I’d go to the light rail station when he stopped and said:

“Nur, you know he struggled with English and I don't think his individual assignment mark would be good. Therefore, it's an opportunity for us to raise his mark. I hope you don't mind that we help him," as if could read my mind, he explained something I’d already let go unanswered. "I meant, we can do that while teaching him a bit so that he could understand the material better."

There was a brief silence I can even hear the sound of the wind blowing. The realization hit me. While we weren't necessarily excellent students, we could be a small help to him. After hearing the reason, I don't really mind that.

However, I do really mind about something else. It is about me and how I see the world recently. For the longest time I can remember, my approach to life was to never see it as a competition. If there is someone I need to compete with, it is myself in the previous time. Hence, I don't necessarily mind the mark that much. Even so, I wasn't at the level of "intentionally" working with someone that possibly bring my performance down. I am happy to help people but not at that point if something rather important (like my grade because I have a big responsibility as a scholarship student) is at stake. On top of that, recently I feel that the constant run to catch up with the pace of the hectic world unconsciously made me slightly less considerate and thoughtful. Therefore, hearing that explanation felt like being hit in the head with a hammer.

I nodded once again while uttering, “I appreciate your thoughtful act. Let's help him as much as we can.” and then continued my steps. My brain can’t help but reprocess the conversation with this “government buddy” (how we call each other since we both work for the governments of our respective countries) when I arrived at the station. First and foremost, we are humans. As humans, it would be beautiful if we could be generous in doing virtuous actions by offering genuine support and comfort to other people. Rather than other indicators, being kind is the ultimate "performance". It matters more than the high marks on a university transcript.

In the hurried competitive world we live in, it's easy to forget to exercise kindness so this moment is a reminder to put a great amount of thought and effort into performing kind gestures. I am glad in the way of practicing kindness that always becomes my annual goal, along the line, I witnessed this piece of example from a friend that is so willing to do kind actions. I am grateful that I am once again reminded to get out of my own little world and start committing on make kindness a priority over any achievement in the world.

One particular thing I couldn’t fail to notice with the way people in my university communicate is when they explain something, they are likely to conclude it with “Does it make sense to you?” instead of “Do you understand?”. Now imagine a good-looking young lecturer teaching you to do data visualization and he ends the lecture with, “Does it make sense to you?” while smiling. Nah, I don’t find the visuals on the PowerBI more interesting than the visual of the one explaining it. And yes, it does make sense. Oh pardon, what I meant, it doesn’t make sense. Could you please explain it again to me? I am not a diligent student but I don’t mind listening to your explanation for hours.

LoL. I am kidding. That’s just a random imagination of what could've happened if it is in a K-drama setting. Let’s go back to the topic before you start asking me how to join that “My Lecturer is Handsome” class. Certainly, I wouldn’t let you know :p

There were a lot of moments when people asked me this question to confirm whether what they convey is delivered to me. However, what made me have full consciousness about it was that recently I have had a quite technical course and the lecturer seemed to catch the confusion in the students’ faces. We all literally had blank expressions, clearly displaying our unhidden bewilderment. He being a patient lecturer himself smiled while saying, “does it make sense to you? I can repeat if it doesn’t,” with no signs of judgment in his eyes. YES PLEASE! This dumb student right here lost her sense because of your sweet smile the difficult material *I am back with that “my lecturer is handsome” joke *if any production house wants to adapt this story as a movie, please get Nicholas Saputra as the lecturer.

That question, while touching on the same thing, made me feel so different from “do you understand?” which I usually heard. Whilst “do you understand?” puts the emphasis on the ability of the listener to comprehend, “does it make sense to you?” emphasizes the communicator’s effectiveness in delivering the message. I found it as a more respectful approach to verify, which I appreciate highly. This subtle (yes, I told you I love subtlety) shift in wording is beautiful, isn’t it?

The phrase "Do you understand?" can sometimes come across as condescending--putting the explainer in a slightly higher position than the one receiving the explanation. It could also imply that the person speaking tests the interlocutor’s ability to grasp the message. Not that I dislike that phrase but now that I found a better way to express it, I think I will try to adopt the new one. “Does it make sense to you?” shows a desire to take responsibility for the effectiveness of the communication and indicates a willingness to ensure that the message has been received correctly. The small shift from “can you understand my message?” to “Can my message be understood?” has impacted me on how I should be more intentional with my choice of words.

I am (once again) surprised with how small attention to our wording might create a big difference. Choosing the right words can help us convey the message effectively and elicit the desired emotional impact. The choice of words also set the tone of our message which significantly affect how our message is received by others. For instance, those two phrases have similar meanings but evoke divergent emotions. I tend to be more open about my lack of understanding when “Does it make sense to you?” is asked of me. After attending that class, I realized that it is essential to be mindful of my wording because effective communication is not just about what we say, but how we say it. Therefore, I would love to be more intentional with my choice of words from now on so that I can be more effective in communicating. 

Now, the question is, should I be intentional about the gorgeous lecturer too? Okay, just ignore my crazy self. Hihi. I know this random imagination doesn't make sense. Does it make sense to you? :)

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Images credit: manfredsteger at Pixabay

Two months ago, I had my first term break and my Malaysian friends came up with the idea of one day trip to Newcastle. There were many beautiful attractions in that city and the last one we visited was Nobby’s Beach. Although I have visited several beaches in Sydney, this one radiated slightly deeper tranquility. I walked with an empty head through the pathway alongside the shore. There was nothing in my brain but admiration for the scenery. It has been a while since the last time I mindfully looked at the surrounding. Hence, it's safe to say that that evening was quite a memorable walk for me. 

At that moment, Maghrib prayer time arrived. Immediately, my friend and I approached the cold ocean water and performed ablution (wudhu). Using Google’s qibla finder, we figured out that we’d perform our prayer facing the beautiful lighthouse. After finished, we just silently sat and stared at the expanse of sand. The white phare was sparkling from far away. It was such a magical moment where I deeply reflected and thought about life.

During the first month in the Emerald City, I recalled feeling a tad uneasy about performing prayer. At the campus, I shall go search for a “safe space” to perform it or walk a long way to the religious center. To perform ablution, I needed to lift my legs to the sink, which made me worried to be perceived as weird. I remember feeling rather jittered when I perform prayer in public spaces, uncomfortable with people's stares. Everything was a brand new feeling for me who can perform it with no hassle back in Indonesia.

Later I remembered a conversation I had with my dad back then when I was very young. We had finished performing the Maghrib prayer and sat in the prayer room waiting for Isha time. When the time arrived, I said to him, “Shall I do ablution again? I believe there was nothing that invalidated my ablution but who knows I might forget or something else.”

“What’s so hard about doing an ablution, Im? Even a simple act like ablution is counted and rewarded by Allah. Every effort you put for Allah matters.” He advised. “Therefore, do your best for Allah.”

It reminded me that I should always put my best when it comes to my observance. I shall put aside my excuses and make my best attempt--and in the case where I've already put my best and that’s still much lacking, He is the all-forgiving. However, first, I need to put my best efforts into Him.

I remember one time when I was afraid that people in the street would stare at me praying, I decided to pray sitting. I defended myself that this might be the highest effort I can provide. However, verily that was not me giving my all. Accordingly, it is ironic that I haven’t tried my best yet asking Him to send all the good things to my life. What a shame that I couldn’t even perform the most important ritual properly yet think that I deserve a flowery fate.  

What’s my excuse for not performing prayer properly when even people in the war zone, with disabilities,  in extreme poverty, etc could perform it appropriately? What’s my excuse to feel discouraged to perform prayer in public spaces when even during the period when Prophet and his companions were afraid that they would be attacked, they still performed it one after the other? Where is my gratefulness for this perfectly-functioned body, decent life, and peaceful situation? 

I stared at the beautiful beacon, with the peaceful calming sound of the beach in my ears and tears covered my eyes. As a woman full of excuses ‘’I don’t think I can”, “Shall I take the easy road?”, and “No need to put more effort as this is also acceptable”, I reflected on this mistake of mine. As a Muslim, I know I thoroughly lacked perseverance. I had too many sins that might put me in a position of not deserving anything good. Nevertheless, He still bestowed me His mercy and favors. 

Lost track of time, the sky gradually turned black. My heart felt warm on this cold seashore due to the thankfulness for this experience of becoming a minority. I appreciated how my love for Allah has grown through difficult times. I stared again at the radiant lighthouse, this time with a smile. As the lighthouse guides mariners, thank You for always guiding me. Alhamdulillah.

Love,

iim

 All human wisdom is summed up in these two words, --wait and hope. (The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas)

A few weeks ago, I visited Cockatoo Island with The UNSW’s Postgraduate Council. This island is a UNESCO World Heritage Site formerly operated as a convict penal establishment. On this trip, the participants walked around the historically significant place accompanied by a tour guide. After a short ferry ride from Barangaroo Wharf, we were welcomed by light rain on the site.

While waiting for the tour guide to arrive, the group had lunch together in a coastal restaurant. After finishing my food, I glanced at my watch checking whether it was already prayer time. I approached the trip leader to get her permission to excuse myself for a while.

“Is it okay if I pray for approximately 10 minutes?” I softly spoke beside her.

“Of course.” she put down the pizza in her hand. “Take as much time as you need. We’ll wait.” she smiled.

I immediately thanked her and then went to pray. While walking to the beach to perform ablution, I suddenly felt a strangely vivid feeling. What she said struck a chord in me. Take as much time as you need--how I wish I could tell myself this very sentence every day. Therefore, when someone said those words to me, I got a tad emotional--I wish I was in my room so I can sob. In this convict site, I realized I myself was a convict of my own self-reproach. I internally spoke “dear self who often blames herself for walking too slowly and taking too much time to reach 'places', take as much time as you need.” while patting my shoulder. I very much deserved it after years of self-blaming.  

One of the most relatable quotes for me is Bolin Shijiang’s “The world is so big and I walk slowly. What if I never find what I am looking for?”. Even since I was a child, I noticed that I seemed to "walk" relatively slower than most people. The realization got more intense as now I am pursuing a master’s degree at this age. Almost everyone in my classes was in their early twenties yet shined brightly as if they have had 10 years of work experience. Sometimes it discouraged me that I couldn’t even manage my academic life properly while those youngsters could. It reminded me of many things that come relatively later to me compared to the others. The list is extensive I wouldn’t even try to mention the content. I remember how I grew up as someone who appeared confident outside but timid inside. Truthfully, my constant failure to keep up with the “regular” timeline contributed to turning me into someone who was easily frightened and lacked confidence. 

In a world where people in the fast lane are more appreciated, I confusedly walked with a low velocity. I was drowned in a society where the deadline is tight, the expectation is high, the pace is hurried, and the competition is tough. Therefore, I was forced to rush and be impatient. I felt despair when I haven’t gotten/achieved something while everyone around me has already enjoyed it. It was so discouraging to still wait for my turn to get a piece of cake when everyone has moved on with a bigger slice. I'm worried that I don’t have time to wait anymore--my heart murmured when I was extremely weary. On many occasions, I stared blankly and thought that probably what I wait for would never come. I've already missed the train and there is no other train afterward, or even there is no train for me in the first place--my inner voice convinced me--therefore I am stuck in the same place even though a long period of time has gone by. 

However, what she said that day straighten up my slumped shoulders. The knowledge that I can take all the time I need brings light to my dim heart. I might be left behind in everything based on society’s standards but I have the right to take as much time as I need. It’s totally okay to walk slowly or even intentionally slow down my pace when I need it. No matter how much time I need, I can wait. Even with the broken hope, I am allowed to wait. No matter how long shall I wait, or how slow my pace is, it is always okay.

Love,

iim

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P.S.:

1. When I am writing this post, one of my lecturers sent an email to the students regarding the group creation and his closing sentence was “Please do NOT feel bad if you aren’t yet in a group-- I was picked last throughout my life and I (just about) did ok in the long run! 😊”. God knew I needed to hear additional encouragement. Even as someone who was already a part of a group since the first week, this uplifting message is powerful. Tears ran down my face as I know how it feels to be the last. Never underestimate the power of kind and encouraging words. You never know that somewhere, someone really needs to hear that. Thank you, Prof! I adore your kindness from the first time I attended the class.

2. Have you ever read Alexandre Dumas's "The Count of Monte Cristo"? The novel suddenly popped up in my mind when I wanted to write about convicts. Or have you ever read Bolin Shijiang's "Entrust the Rest of My Life to You"? :)

Dear hope, the Sydney I wrote about to you today is drizzling--the light kind I would love to face unshielded although it’s frosty. But dear hope, I know one day the mizzle would turn warmer because of your presence.

Two days ago, Mbak Lia (Edmalia Rohmani) visited this city and agreed that we would meet at Circular Quay. The weather prediction stated that there would be rain all day yet our night meeting happened under no umbrella. We knew each other in the first place since we both loved literature thus no wonder poetic words were uttered while strolling down the wet paving blocks towards the Opera House.  

“Imagine walking along this path with the loved one.” Her statement turned the literature mode on in me. “Under the rain, with such a view.”, she added while patting my shoulder as if she knew I have been waiting for that “quietly strolling beautiful place with someone” moment. The dream moment I have forgotten for a while due to recent hectic days where my heart felt like in a high-speed blender.

I looked far across the beach, the Harbour Bridge was sparkling beautifully. The cars on the bridge were moving in slow motion as if it was a scene from a romantic movie where the character is surrounded by an air of melancholy. Imagine spending such a lovely night just walking serenely side to side with someone so dear to the heart. When I turned my head a bit, the Opera House was radiantly glowing. What a poem-worth situation it was. Flowery lines kept popping out in my brain as the romantic view of two Sydney landmarks shined in front of my eyes. There is no exaggeration in saying that this particular night in Sydney has inspired me to stay optimistic, especially regarding the old hopes.

As Mbak Lia repeatedly mentioned how grateful she was to be here, I couldn’t help praying that one day, I would have an opportunity to repeat the amble with a loved one. I smiled at the tender waves sound of the beach alongside the pathway. I hoped my future man could hear this too from wherever he is now. I felt the 12°C gentle wind blow as the wishes were raised to the sky. The city was cold and I can feel my freezing hands touching my face. Aamiin, I said silently.  

I want to fall in love with someone, one of my very wishes that night. The kind of love that puts my heart at ease. A feeling that resembles home for my unsettled mind and heart. Love that it reminds me of how beautiful Allah’s plan is. Love that even by remembering his smile, my heart feels warm. I wished in love to feel that effortless and lightweight.

I can portray him as a solemn and thoughtful old soul. A laid-back and grounded introverted man with whom, silence is comfortable. Someone whose eyes spark soft light like a ray of morning sunshine. Someone that walking through his mind offers me a leisure walk in a sunflower garden. Someone I’d love to have a deep conversation with for hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, lifetime and rarely get bored as I keep uncovering a new depth of his mind. On top of everything, someone that makes me remember Allah more, therefore, paradise feels relatively closer.

As Sydney itself is a magic that came true--a long-time wish turned into a reality, I hope these particular wishes I whispered in the “magic land” would come true too.

Each city has its own color and sentiment. For me, Sydney is the symbol of hope. I am hopeful that one day, I’ll get an opportunity to meander this scenery at night, while rain is lightly pouring, and his calm smile raises the temperature. I believe in it just as I believe in all the previous dreams I wrote in my diary. No matter how silly it sounds when I ask for it from Allah, I fully recognized the fact that He carefully listens.

God listens to our prayers, always. Indeed. 

Love, 

iim

"I feel quite lost inside myself, like I'm looking for my train tracks for my life." - Sabrina Ward Harrison

Hello, everyone. How are your days? Mine is mainly cold (homonym intended). As someone who was accustomed to Jakarta’s heat for years, Sydney’s low temperature is already challenging from the very beginning. I shouldn’t walk around dressed as if it is the early winter when people barely wear jackets but just let me. Hehe.

When I posted my previous writing, some people suggested I write down my experience navigating life as a student in Sydney. Here I am starting my #OzDiaries (Oz is another way of spelling "Aus", which is an abbreviation of "Australia") while planning to post them regularly *I wish. I hope I can share the snapshots of a mere student’s life in a big EXPENSIVE city *yeah wrote the highlight in capital letters! Hihi. Promise you they are nothing sort of bragging but more like the lessons I learn or the inner feeling unspoken. So shall we start now?

When I conveyed that I would pursue my master’s degree in Sydney, my mom asked me whether I am not tired of constantly studying and struggling. After all, women my age should start to have a comfortable life, right? It was not that she didn’t approve of the idea. From time to time, she checked on me to make sure that I am happy with the choices I make. Truth is, that happened because she acknowledged my habit of recklessly jumping out of my comfort zone and then quietly struggling by myself. Occasionally she mentioned that my health and happiness are so much more important than the so-called growth, since she was worried that I did everything out of the desire to outgrow myself. While the betterment I aimed for is due to my wish to contribute better to society, she never forgot to emphasize the importance of enjoying life.

(I bet she is actually struggling to be a mother of someone who likes to do difficult things when actually deep down is a coward.)

I told her that I was not just ready but also excited to embrace the adventure. So she smiled and said that I should take care of myself because there would be none to lean on, to accompany. She also mentioned that I should be responsible for the privilege I got: be a good student and come back as a better me. I nodded while holding back tears because I should contain the emotion as always. All by myself, in a new city, I know my train would be heading to a station of uncomfortableness. Yet there I was holding the ticket tightly.

What happened later were the things that warmed my heart. I accepted a lot of help both from the people I knew and I didn't. Someone offered me her phone when I said that there was no wifi outside the airport building, a Ph.D. student at my university DM-ed me and took care of me whenever I am on campus, an old man approached me who was standing in front of the city map asking whether he could provide me assistance, some people greeted me “assalamualaikum” when I walked on the road with a tired face after classes, the UNSW Muslim community members who embraced me warmly, and many more that I couldn't mention one by one--they didn’t know that they came right exactly the moment I needed morale-booster.

At one moment, a woman on the light rail offered me the seat beside her. I couldn’t help saying “I am new here and the people are so kind. Thank you.” which was replied with a big smile on her face. We talked about several things and when the announcement said that shortly we would arrive at The UNSW station, I prepared myself to stand up. She poked me and handed me a piece of paper money that was $50. Overwhelmed by the surprising act, I said I can’t receive that. Her kindness was already an uplifting chunk of my day. However, she insisted while saying “if you want to repay for that, please pray for my husband. He has been in hospital for months.”

I didn’t walk to the campus right after I arrived at the station this time. Instantly I sat down and stared blankly at the money in my hand. She might have harder times than mine but helped me anyway. What I called though days might never come close in difficulty compared to hers. Yet she patted my head and continuously said “good luck. I wish you all the best.” as if she knew that that particular morning, I really needed someone to pat my head and say that I’ll be okay. She was really the answer to my prayer that day and I can’t thank her enough for giving me additional strength. (writing this part got me in tears. Huhu)

After all the difficulties I had in life, I realized how Allah always send me what I need to bear all. For my very first days in Sydney, that woman is the symbol of how I should always be hopeful about my life here. I should always know that the smiling faces of friends and strangers would be there when I need them the most.  

The series of kindness from people in Sydney reminds me of something: the next time you see someone with a confused face or you are in a position to help, please do yourself a favor. If you can, please offer help. You never know how much that person needs your help. You have no idea how many times that person would want to say thanks to you. You never know that perhaps that person will pray for you due to your kindness and hoping that he/she could also be a kind person like you. You never know what someone is going through so be kind, always.  

Lastly, Eid Mubarak for my Muslim friends. Taqobalallahu winna wa minkum. I will see you again later insyaAllah! 😊

Love, 

iim