Becoming Meaningful
By: Agung Marsudi
THE sky in Ngrambe, cloudy even though it’s not raining. In fact, the heat has been scorching all day. “Usually when there’s a night market, the rain is diverted by the shaman,” people say.
These past few days I should have gone home early, but my legs feel heavy to lift.
This Friday I should have gone home, to say goodbye to my mother, and to prepare the ubo rampe for the art exhibition in Jakarta. Because starting June 11th I have to put up the macro photos taken by Rifai and Malika Dwi Ana at the Gallery.
Towards dusk, just a short turn right out of Malawu Omah Kopi, it seemed like the motorbike ran out of oil, and had to be pushed. Quite far. Sweat soaked my black shirt, Becoming Meaningful.
Lately Jacob Ereste, a cultural figure from Yogya, has been writing about spirituality, I’m still brittle. Indeed, to live a meaningful life, words are not enough. Especially just speaking to the universe. Not of one heart with Budi Jati.
I am still learning about coffee and drinking coffee, cups, bitter-sweet, and sips.
Ngawi, May 31, 2025
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