Sunday, September 20, 2020

My Prayer Has Been Answered

A  couple weeks ago, I changed my afternoon walking route and strolled through an area which I never passed before. Let me tell you this, what I get to love about Sanur is I have never shared it with anyone -- I mean, a guy. I did once had dinner with a date in Sanur (which ended with he left me on the street so I had to take GoJek home), but the beach is all for me and myself (well, for me and some good friends). 

But specifically that day, what I saw amazed me. My favorite part of Sanur used to be in the front of the Hyatt/Pizzeria restaurant because there is a vast clean yellowish sand area, a small part of it covered with shady trees, but as many stray dogs make it as their territory, not too many people like to sit there. I love it, I love dogs anyway, and once in a while I feed them. However, this part close to the Prama and Puri Santrian hotel is a lot wider and quieter. The water is so blue and the wave is so calm..... I have no idea why young foreign tourists or so-called 'digital nomads' don't like Sanur. Man, it's so beautiful, much more than Kuta or *uhuk uhuk* Canggu. As I barely see people there at around 4-6 PM, I would love to lay there and read books, but I don't know why I haven't done it yet...

At that moment, the thought of taking someone special: we will sit side by side, hold each other's hand, talk about our days and stuffs; crossed my mind. Look, I have been single for nine years, and as much as I embrace my singleness, I wouldn't saying that I could pass everyday smoothly. Some days are truly, madly, deeply hard. I am good at keeping the sad news to myself, but when something good happened to me and I have no one to share with (or I have to wait for my friends), I became a bit wrecked. As if I wake up in the morning and listen to Bruno Mars singing "Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now", only I had never shared my bed with anyone. "My heart breaks a little", and the good news is no longer good news anymore. 


Earlier this year, I wrote a status on Facebook: 

"Dear God, for this year's birthday may I please have someone to come home to, or someone who will come home to me? 10 October is still 8,5 months away. Thank You."

Some days ago, I got a call from a friend who works in a publisher, and we talked about my new book ideas. She encouraged me to write 'this one' and so, hopefully I will publish at least two nonfiction books next year, and another fiction which is translated into English. I was like...

"Allah, what did I ask you? Why more and more personal project? Excuse me, I prefer a 'collaborative' project, I am sure you know what I mean."

Then this morning I contemplated while doing my morning walk (just me being a normal Prima), tried to evaluate my efforts in acquiring a husband, one by one, what I have done, what I haven't done, what works -- obviously many didn't work...

But I have to start thinking about my new book, so I scrolled TED videos, typed "failure" on the search box (because I am going to write about it), and I stumbled upon this video below:


You will think that it's simply a coincidence that Elizabeth Gilbert' home is writing -- just exactly what I feel about writing.  I am nowhere close to Elizabeth, I am a mediocre writer: I have two books which was and will be published by myself, not by a major publishing. The sales of my first book was saddening, it could not even pay those bobas I drank while making the book came true. I am a slow columnist and blogger, I only produce very few pieces in a year. But. I. Have. Never. Stopped. And. Not. Yet. Plan. To. 

My point is that I’m writing another one now, and I’ll write another book after that and another and another and another and many of them will fail, and some of them might succeed, but I will always be safe from the random hurricanes of outcome as long as I never forget where I rightfully live.

So then, I realized that Allah has answered my prayer. 

I have been home all along.

He granted it even before I asked.

And now I am content.  

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