The ride is exciting. Your inbox is rained by good news. Your friend is leaving for Syria, Spain, Geneva, Italy, Kenya, Beijing, India and many great parts to do their thing for a better world.
Another one is returning to their home after having tasted the world’s best education in the west. Your friends’ billion dollar companies are set up here and there. One day you’re sharing a drink with someone whose dinner could cost as much as your monthly rent. Your friends’ movies are finally hitting the national level. In between, your hand is going through the world map, finding what’s next to explore in your Columbus mission. It’s all taking you closer to where you wanted to be in life. Everything from waking up at 5am to the moment you can’t sleep has taught you insane, great lessons. It keeps you on the move. You feel grateful and have a permanent smile in your face that baffles everyone around. It’s charming too, some confessed.
In the world that seems to only go up, it’s damn hard to tell the speed you’re driving at. I swear I (almost) hate it. It’s like living in a fancy condo on the 20th floor while trying to help poor people you see from your balcony. It just doesn’t work that way to me. You simply can’t see things clear enough until you sit nicely and talk in a language you and them can understand.
I might have reached the point where I’m absolutely detached from what the world has in store for me. I know what I’m capable of and what’s there for me but in this stage of my life, I’ve lost that desire to pursue these things. Maybe a year or two years ago, I’d run into some Harvard alumni or CEOs to absorb what I could learn from them. I’d grab any chance and proudly share what I’ve achieved to my friends and families (and strangers). But today, I guess it’s weird that I don’t see the world the way I used to. The greatest lessons are there: spending a few nights at gubuk house in Brebes, Central Java or making my effort to talk with sex workers and kids who can count 1-100 but don’t go to school even when it’s free. These things have offered things I can’t seem to learn at school or from the conference seats. When you have truly listened and tried to accept everyone as your great mentor, you will learn. I don’t know what lesson but it’s richer and deeper.
Often you walk in the street full of beggars, you feel emotionally stirred by your own values: should I give her something or not because I don’t have a clue where this money will go after. But deep down, you question your moral value too.
The only way to go is up.
One day you see yourself like an artificial intelligence product, programmed by another human who seems far greater than you. It pushes you to conquer crazy mountains. As much as you want to ignore it, this thing will still happen; you’ll reach a certain point where things don’t excite you as much. But I’m on an exciting ride and still try hard to listen carefully, digesting things that go into my ears, hoping to learn something out of it.
The gravity call. Again.
You see the ground from 7th floor. 10th floor. 36th floor. 56th floor. And listening to James’ the Wilhelm Scream,
“I don’t know about my dream anymore. I see it falling..falling..”
Some songs just make more sense sometimes. Especially when you’re not buying what life offers or simply buy the idea of nothingness. Dangerously good. Sometimes. Only sometimes.