Untitled Journal

What's the story, morning glory?

Post Lombok

And did and see an equally amazing things, at 6 weeks pregnant.

 

P/S: Almost gave up compiling this. Because really, how do you sum up 6 days of prodigious experience in just 3 minutes?

When in Lombok

The plan was to do something amazing.

It was what I intended when I bought tickets to Lombok just few weeks before Australia. I knew we were going to climb some awesome rocks in Australia, but climbing had become a comfort zone then. At this age and after a certain period of consistent climbing, I knew I was never going to do an overhang in some cave or higher-grade routes with nothing but small pinches or slopes to cling my fingers on. So what else there is out there that I might like? Maybe an easier, longer climb, like hiking. And wouldn’t it be amazing if I get on top of somewhere mind blowing like the mighty Rinjani?

That was the purpose – to do something challenging enough that I can personally be proud of, that it will become a story to tell and inspiring to my children. To do that while I still have it in me, while I still feel strong enough on the knees and in my mind to make it, while Allah still grace me with some vigour at this age that sometimes can feel so old. Maybe before I move on to the next phase of my life, maybe before the number two. Despite what I felt just over a year ago, the urge of having another one was evident as Daisy started her kindergarten and slowly became independent of me. As I watched her playing with her make ups or talking to herself in the mirror so adorably, I thought, I don’t mind having another one of her. And as I grinned to Fakhrul’s eyes as he tried to amuse me with one of his dorky jokes, I thought, I don’t mind having another one of him too.

So arrangements were made, emails were sent, quotes from different tour guides appeared in my inbox for me to compare. In between recovering from an epic trip that is Australia and hopeful for another one to Lombok, my weekends were spent away from the walls and I went for the trails instead. Those long morning walks, calculating kilometers and monitoring heart rates. I started off with easy long routes at FRIM, completed the hard up and down the hill of Bukit Gasing, carrying 14 kilo of Daisy half the way as if she was the weight of the bag I’ll be carrying up the mountain, then finally felt good enough about myself at Gunung Nuang. After Nuang, I was pretty confident that I could make it up to Rinjani, since most reviews said that although some might find it pretty hard, its doable even for people who don’t usually hike.

But Rinjani did not happen.

I wouldn’t say unfortunately either. It was simply never meant to be. Or precisely, another one of my not-yets in life. Allah had a better plan and after all who am I to deny His will? So I put it on the list and chuck it in the bucket. With a bit of program alteration, adding more days and an extra travel buddy which is no other but my 5 year old who was originally going to stay behind, I went to Lombok anyway.

And did and see an equally amazing things, at 6 weeks pregnant.

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P/S: I am agitated to share the video. :D

Syawal Reminders

Well, let’s see if I still have it in me. With words, I mean. To write for the love of it, even as mundane as it sounds, even as unambitious as it want to be.

Sometimes when I go back to my old posts, some dated years back, I understood the importance of writing. Of keeping a journal, of documenting your thoughts and emotions, to be caught in a moment and just fire the words away. Thoughts and memories are tricky things. There were so many moments when I read back and stimulated by my old thoughts and memories, surprised that most of the times they are not quite how I remember it. Yes, there are less words now than before. Way less than I intended to.

Truthfully, a good writer has no fears, which I think I have a lot of when writing. A lot of skepticism and prejudice in myself, one which derived from observations of others. I shouldn’t have been so judgmental I know, but in this really social world, my human weakness makes it hard not to. Things weren’t the same when I started blogging. Expressions we see in the internet were thoughtful and composed, published after a great deal of understanding towards something. Just not anymore these days. Or maybe it was me who had been visiting the wrong blogs.

It has been a testing year this year, has it not? As a nation we were struck by our own series of tragedies unimaginable and on the other side of the world, there’s Gaza. One word that should put OTTDs or fancy food posts online to shame. Personally when there’s so many ordeals experienced by others, even within my close circle, having friend who lost her mother so suddenly on second Syawal and another friend had her second ectopic pregnancy on the third, you just sort of want to cling on to whatever’s blessings you have left in your life, feeling that at any moment it could be your time to be tested next.

“But you can’t stop living your life because you’re afraid,” Carrie said. I fear a lot if what I show, share or write, of mostly happy things, are unjustified or ever being relevant anymore because away from the convenience of my computer screen, there are people who just feel the opposite. Feeling happy will almost have a subsequent to feeling guilty these days. That as I write about my travels, there are people who yearns the same but simply doesn’t have the opportunity. That as I write about how healthily and gloriously my child has been growing up, there are friends who can’t even have one, worst, had all her chance to conceive naturally literally operated on and taken away. That as I write about the love of my life, there are wives who had lost theirs to other women. Or simply lost it. Or just has not found one.

If I ever get quiet again, you know I’m away supposedly being grateful of my blessings. Quietly, as I try to be. But still, there are few drafts to publish. I just hope I have a heart to publish them without feeling so guilty.

Raya 1435H

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I’m still here. Oh, in the case of this picture, we’re still here. Daisy had to be the one to click the shutter.

Just dropping a note on this good month to wish you (yes, you whoever still visit this dormant blog) a very blessed Aidilfitri with your loved ones. A celebration to the return of our Fitrah after a month of conscious communal cleansing and purification, a wise friend of mine said.

Also the old fashion way, Selamat Hari Raya. Maaf Zahir Batin.

Instead putting it into words and stills like previous years, hope this will do:

When in Australia

arapiles

Dear friends. Readers. Strangers.

I’ve been slow on words. Very slow. Actually probably the slowest I’d ever been. A part of me doesn’t want to give up this space. A part of me want to keep it just to myself. Lately I’ve been questioning about how much should I reveal about my life. For some reason these days with all the things we share on this virtual space, privacy seems to have better meaning than before. And that’s how I feel most of the time. But the deepest surface of my heart still want to blog. It kinda starting to become old school now, blogging, don’t you think?

Or maybe there is nothing significant happened in my life. Sometimes I feel that monotony is eating me deep inside, that routine was getting lethal. But there were some lucky strikes, like of that previous two posts I shared with you. Yeah, maybe only travels are worth sharing these days. They are personally unspecific, a general subject and hopefully inspires people. Or could be my trick of trying to get you people fund my travels if you want me to write more.. :P

Since we started climbing, we have totally altered our ways of traveling. We were totally uninterested with the cities, with the shops, with rubbing shoulders with other tourists, we even omitted architectural interest out of this latest venture of ours. We pursued different purpose, craved for different kind of journey, which made climbing the crème de la crème, the pick of the crop of the trip. We travelled for 5 days, slept in a different camp sites for 4 nights until we reached the superlative of it, at the top of one of the crag in the magnificent, remote Arapiles. Never would I have thought that I am this girl, who would be more than just OK sleeping and cooking in a cramped van, suffered a cold wind of night or go outside to pee in the dark.

There’s so much to say about this trip, but I just would sum it as a merely, perfect, one. As perfect as I could’ve hoped for and wanted to. With people who are my companions and compassions in life. That even a wrong turn brought us to the right place. Where we were late but on time. When we wanted more days and then had more days. Like seriously, too-good-to-be-true happened on this trip and I will forever be grateful for that.

True enough that the most beautiful thing in this world is the world itself. There were a lot of times where I stood in many places during the trip and it reminded me of how small I actually am, the true artist inside our Creator and feeling blessed for the opportunity. If ever in the future of my little indefinite life I get to experience this again, I will be way too lucky.

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natimuk

P/S: I bought my .com after it finally became available! Funny how I rarely write or post these days but still managed to upgrade this space.  So yeah, its now shalizamokhtar.com. Save yourselves some trouble from the slightly longer type. ;)

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