Category Archives: Thought

Beauty Path of #colorfulSara

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Is there any woman out there who doesn’t want to be prettier?

That’s the basic instinct inside, which happen to be a default part on every woman’s mind. Though, it might be buried and pressed down underneath, due to many reasons around. Just like in my case.

No, I never been a make up person before, simply because I had no interest on. Pointless, I thought, as my previous works required me to stay and move around under the sun most of times, which definitely caused my face oily and sweating all day long. So I couldn’t care less to put any, let alone about how to do it properly. Denial, I told myself I was quite attractive enough with my smile only. Didn’t they say that smile was the best make up any woman could possibly wear?

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And so, years after years, my make-up kit has been consisted of the same short list of beauty items. It never changed. The same compact powder, black liquid eyeliner, natural blush on, lip gloss, and bright red lipstick, that I rarely wore.

I was once being made fun at, when one old friend of mine found out that I still used the exact same stuffs I had some years ago. She pitied me, yet I thought there were nothing wrong with it.
I didn’t care.
For I knew for sure, if I truly into it one day, no need anybody to tell me what to do and what to get.

Which I proved was true.

After the big storm at the early of 2014, due to the urgency of starting a new chapter of my life, I’ve been trying to step outside my comfort zone and searching for any sides of me I never knew existed. There, I was quite surprised by many discoveries I found, as the hidden part was revealed one by one. The joy that make-up brings was one of them, as I fall in love instantly with its colorful magic.

At the very beginning, I’ve been learning autodidact from many beauty advisor in every make up store I visited. Absorbing the function of many items I never cared to know before. Slowly, I put one after another on my list and causing the sudden growth of my make up kit.IMG_0355
The picture on the left was the point where I started, while the right was a month after. Below was six months later, and the rest was history.

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Didn’t stop there. Not yet.

A private make up course with @lady_pon, a make up artist, was the beginning of everything. I met her accidentally on instagram and universe arranged our path to meet by our matching schedule. She introduced me to completely wonderful world of colors and magic I never knew existed. Followed by several make up class with Make Over brand, where I tried to get used with the basic skill one by one. Not to mention, the countless night I spent in front of my make up table after Bum was sleeping; just to practice with the colors on and wipe it afterwards.

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History repeated itself, once the curiosity inside me was evoked, I’d eagerly learn. And once I wanted it, I took what I wanted seriously. So there I was with the point of no return.

This is just a beginning, of a long long winding road of my beauty path. Well, at least, it will be such a colourful journey 😉

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And if I look back, I think it’s not about make up itself. It’s about self-satisfaction. About being pretty and feeling good about myself. About deciding to self that I’m beautiful and then I can carry out my life as if I am a beautiful girl with any pretty colours that makes me happy. About believing, that it doesn’t have anything to do with how the world perceives me, but how I see myself.

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I still have nothing against my bare-face and still strongly believe that smile is the best make up women possibly wear. The true beauty shines from the inside, but the right make up will enhance it beautifully.

After all, nothing makes woman more beautiful than the belief that she is beautiful.
So let’s be pretty, shall we?

Decluttering; The Art of Letting Go

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Being awfully sentimental, I am. I found difficulties in term of letting go. Of anything.

It could be people, things, belongings, and memories. But as I lately learn to detach myself from people who contributes nothing but bad vibes in my life, then things and belongings should be served identically.

Simplifying life project. That was the concept my partner brought couple days ago that ignite the idea within me. He once had the mission to cut down his belongings, starting from his own drawer first. Removing clothes he had, by only keeping some basic pieces he actually needs. Like three sheets of T-shirt, one formal shirt, and sort kind of stuffs. I remember stood in awe, as I really couldn’t picture myself surviving with only some pieces of basic things.

Yes, there were tons of things had stayed hidden underneath the pile of dusty clothes I never wore again. But throwing it out? Seriously. What if I suddenly need it? What if there are events require me wearing those? What if I become a bit slimmer so it would fit me better? Too many ‘what-if’ I’d used to justify myself on keeping it still, as I found no urgency to reason me why I had to do so.

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But, well. Confucius once highlighted the point how life was really simply, yet it’s us who insist on making it complicated. We expand choices more than we actually should, broaden options more than we supposedly need. So many things are being kept for the sake of keeping it, not by the function it genuinely served. Being hardly hesitant to let go is one reason of, in which contributes much of complicating life itself.

So at one point of thinking, out of nowhere, I suddenly felt that was the time to let go. To master the art of letting go and to get rid anything that binding me on some irrational reasons. Second that I realized, I already stood in front of my drawer, while throwing out one piece after another. There were some moment of reluctant, but surprisingly, it was much more easier than I thought. It didn’t take too much time to finally cause one huge pile of clothes on the floor, leaving a recognisable empty space behind.

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The hardest part was throwing the emotional knot away. It was the essence of memories that left within the clothes, which froze me several times. A given piece from dearest person, a souvenir from memorable faraway trip, a specific one that being worn on special moments. It wasn’t about functions it served, yet memories it revoked. Once it tied closely with some meaningful time in my life I hardly let go. Blitz of memories flashed by, an awareness of how it once matter but it doesn’t anymore. For finally I threw it down, I detached the knot. One by one.

Proud, I should say. Though I still have quite plenty left, I’ve decluttered about 2/3 from all clothes I had. It doesn’t only simplify my life by freeing me from unnecessary knots of the past, but also limiting outfit choices I should make on daily basis. No more spending hours by standing in front of drawer while thinking ‘I have nothing to wear’ anymore. Leaving only some functional pieces, any of it will work perfectly fit. Even if I had to choose with eyes closed, I would still look good every single time. Double benefits, it is.

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People said, once you simplify your life, the law of your universe will be simpler. This is only the beginning, but yes, I’m glad for being brave enough on doing so.

Now, shall you try?

Scars and Ghost from the Past

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Throughout our path on these long windy road of life, we’ve made so many choices in different level of urgency and significancy. Some are goods, some might bad; an over-think one, a spontaneous too. There were moments when we put so much consideration in mind, yet being mindlessly daring in some other times. At the end, it is the pile of choices we have; a stacking combination of a black and white things we have chosen on. Unto them, our small universe has been staggery built.

The black one, of course, is the black sheep of the family. Made by a foolish dear old friend, our old-self. The immature us. The careless one, who was following the sparks, taking a risk, pushing boundaries while blinding the inner self-consciousness. By then, consequences was far beyond mind, as we tested how far the acceptable area could be compromised into. It was the one point of life, where stupid choices were made recklessly and bad things were done easily. Arrogantly speaking, we permitted ourselves to be. Little did we know, how bad our past could unveil its true self and haunt us in the following future.

Once done, then it’s done. Time goes by, moment glides by. As we grow ourselves to the present us, we learnt to see in different perspective glasses. Time has enlighten our mind with every struggles in different kind of circumstances. Gradually, it changed our point of view. Connecting the dots, we finally grasped the whole understanding of its bigger frame clearly and it stroked us to realise what a mess we’ve been done. In the front of our very eyes, we saw our universe crumbled as the following consequences of our choices. And there, from the deepness of our heart, something was cracked and bleed. Stupid we were, we hardly admitted it so. Embarrassed of, we bury them into the deepness of thought while refusing to remember its existences. Deleting the certain part of memory and leaving it abandoned in the dustily corner of our heart; hoping the wound would heal over time.

It would.

We know that.

But still, the scars forever remained. 

It stays there. A lasting mark of our pain and grief, a memento of what once was done and done. Though we refused to remember, others did not, and the memories forcefully being recalled. Haunting, as every glimpse unto it brings out the ghost from the past to torment the present us with the disturbing facts that’s been buried underneath. A failure, that’s how a scar means to us. An awful sign of a downfall moment. It stays as a reminder of our misstep and idiocy: every single mistake we did, every stupidity we acted unto. Stabbing the pain, bleeding the wound all over again. It points its finger and screams “LOSER” right in front of our face, every time. We, ourselves, are our biggest blamers. Hurts and painful as the ghost of our past glorifies above the suffering us.

But in the one brief moment of enlightenment, shall I back and differ? 

As ugly as it may, scars are, indeed, not a very pleasant thing to see. It’s jarring and shows what’s supposed not being there. Yet, it’s still one inseparable part of our journey of life; the path that finally made us, us. Focussing on the shaming side of stories, we forget to see how the scars were made in the first place. It was coming from a choice, might be a reckless one, that tore a wound within and pulled us from a comfort zone to a terrible battle of our own. Breaking us into pieces then forcing us to grow revolving ourself into a better us. We stumbled ourselves upon on, but we had no choice but surviving trouble and reassembling our world from the scratch. As time goes by, we finished up the battle and the wound closed itself. Regenerating the tissue, closing on, and leaving its mark there. 

Not as a sign of failure, but an evidence of life. Evident of choice we once made; evident of lesson we learnt in advance. Scars are a sign of growing, from the stupid-reckless us into the wiser one. It’s a milestone from the battle and struggle we once had; a personal experience that’s been shaping a better version of us. Though it might linked to unpleasant memories, there’s nothing we should ashamed of. Yet proud, instead. The scars remind us that we’ve been through a living hell persistently and back up again strongly. Wounded and injured, but yeah, survived.

Therefore, there’s should be no ghost haunting from the past. Nobody would understand it better than us, what a reason behind every wrong turn and mistaken choice. The battle would always be our own and only, as the acceptance should come ourselves solely. That’s our duty, not others, to shake hand with our past and embrace the scars. Forgiving self, that what we should do in the very first place. Having another person, who are willingly embracing the you you embrace, is just a jackpot bonus of life.

The immaturity and foolishness, we’ve all been through those stage after all. No one ever learn to fly without falling down stupidly and try again bravely. A great future doesn’t require a great past anyway, but a will of endurance and survival.

And that’s what our scars have been trying to tell us the whole time.

As ugly as it may, but it’s okay.

It’s a sign of bravery, our life’s medals of adventure.

Stiches of Love

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Always been a nomad I am; from here to there, crossing land and seas. As I grow up, I always live some hundreds to thousand miles away from home, -a place where I was grown-, pursuing dreams while leaving memories of comfortable living behind. Home, the place, where I always feel safe and loved, with those dearly hands ready to embrace me with heart widely opened. Therefore, a trip back for visiting home is one thing I’m eagerly looking forward unto. Not only about meeting family, but also reminiscing the innocence of life I once had.

A journey to the past, that’s what it offers me. There is some kind of time machine in every single corner of everything; bookshelves, closets, drawers, piles of random sheets, old diaries, photograph albums, and many more to be found. Hidden treasure, it is. Containing stories, summarising affections.As for today, the treasure was revealed itself as I was digging on the deepest on my closet: an old vintage home-sewn floral dress. It brought me on a ride to many many years backwards, visiting back a little girl of me with so much memories of warm loving family.

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Back in the days, I remember vividly, I rarely bought any clothes outside. Every once in a while, my grandma would come with some new fabric and made us new dresses. All of it had nicely beautiful patterns, which she magically turned those into sweet home-sewn pieces. one after another. I remember how excited and happy I was, while pretending to be a fairly princess by wearing it all. Yet, also I remember being grown up into a teenager and simply bored with all home-made stuff. Bored to the bone, stupidly I was. Complained, I told my parents how I wished I could just buy a trendy ready piece from the store, just like all of my friends did. Wearing home-sewn dress had embarrassing me at one point of life. And so, not too far from then, no more home-sewn dress was made. My loss.

Fast forward to the present time, just at the moment I found the only piece that last through years. Surprised, I didn’t see this coming that I would come across one again. As I ran my fingers to feel it gently, a shiver ran down my spines. How blinded I was to deny such a love like these? A very beautiful pattern that being selected thoughtfully and sewn carefully, so it would fit her granddaughter perfectly. Just by imagining it, there was a warmth filling all the empty space inside. I remember being loved so badly.

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Unpredictably, it still fits me well. As I added an additional modern pink belt from my collection, it turned out nicely as a beautiful short floral dress that I proudly wear everywhere right now.

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Every stitch contains a huge amount of affections; every detail proclaims tenderness. Being wrapped up with so much love like these, I feel so much blessed as I’m wearing this. Grateful to be born, grateful to be loved. Such a treasure, indeed.

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Thank you, my Nana. i love you too, beyond any words could say.

To Travel and the Feeling that Follows

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A traveller, are you?
If so, have you ever know this kind of feeling?
The feeling when you are about to go traveling, moving, and leaving one place to another, you know it’s not only the place that you’re going to miss, but also the person as in who you are at this present time.

It will be written all over the place, that even though you might be back one day, things won’t be just same as before.
The present will be past, as the future shall come along fast.
The closest can turn into stranger, and the stranger might come to rescue.
The familiar one might departs unpredictably, while the unfamiliar one takes its place.
The feeling gonna, slightly or so much differently, change.
You too, won’t be the exact same person you think you are.

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Life is a constant state of moving to the unpredictability.
Traveling teaches you to embrace it.

Because to travel is to make one step ahead, one at time.
Leaving past and moving forward wholeheartedly.
To another place.
To another you.

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Hopefully, a better happier you.

What Comes Around

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Two months ago, on the process of joining #30HariMenulisSuratCinta, I wrote this post: https://saratunas.wordpress.com/2014/02/21/you-are-a-great-mother/. Secrety, those was a letter I addressed to a woman, whom her writing inspires me much.

Following her pregnancy and motherhood journey, it was always a lovely thing to read. Very humane, not a pretended perfect mom with all those parenting tips and whatsoever. Not an easy journey obviously, but she took it bravely and stood strong for her baby. Despite her flaws, she gave her best shot throughout times.

Reading her posts made me realizing about mother’s unfair nature. We made all the difficulties being solved smoothly so all the hard works went unnoticed. People forgot to acknowledge it, people thought we made it possible as easy as we breath. So, moved by spontaneity, those was a post I wrote as an appreciation she deserves. A reminder during one of the frustrating days she might encounter in the future, that no matter what others said, she is a great mother.

Apparently, she changed her twitter account’s name just when those post was up and those letter got drown in the middle of rushing timeline. I remember I was telling myself, it’s okay. Somehow I believed, the letter would find its time, the better one, to finally find its way for her. Maybe she didn’t need it just now, maybe later; I let the universe decided. And so, time passed by and I’ve forgotten what I wrote anyway.

Fast forward to present time, life’s been ridiculously hard for me recently. Nothing was going right: messy house, discomfort situations, non-stop baby crying, future unsureness, no time for everything, and so on. All was pilling up, causing me to lost control of my temper towards my little Bumi often and it made me worser even more. Frustrated and overwhelmed I was, even to the point of kinda hating myself for cannot doing anything right. What kind of mother I am, I questioned myself terribly.

Been crying and praying for a sign of help, yet it came with a sign of notification on my phone yesterday. More than surprised to see the very name I never expected was commenting my blog post, saying thank you. The very person I’ve addressed the letter in the first place. Two months apart and finally the letter found its way to her as what I always been believing. So relieved, I was.

Further more, we could take it as coincidence, but I believe it wasn’t. As I read her comment, I reread the writing all over again. And I cried.
I forgot what I’ve written there and reading it all over again lightened up something within. Yes, house might be left undone, things might go wrong, we might be judged (even by ourselves) as an incompetent one, but it doesn’t matter. Despite all flaws I have, I’m also a great mother, who give the best of everything I could. All these times, I’ve been doing extremely great; I should hold unto that and keep going strong.

As surreal as it could be, the reminder I sent to others, comes around as a reminder to myself. My own encouragement words found its way to encourage me in return, just right in time when I need it most. As always, the universe has its own magical way of life arrangement.

What goes around, comes around.
The love I receive will always equal to the love I give. I shall have no worries.
Terima kasih, Semesta
Kembali aku percaya

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