searching for the extra from the ordinary

Dandelion and the Meeting of Two Souls

A false dandelion-photograph by me

(To read in Indonesian, see below)

 

Only in dreams
We see what it means.

But when we wake
It’s all been erased.
And so it seems
Only in dreams.

~Weezer-Only in Dreams

 

Up on a hill, there lived a crowd of dandelions*. Tall and short, yellow and white, real and false—they’re all there.

On one bright sunny day during the warm summer, a man hiked up the hill. He came with no companion or passion; he was perhaps being too exhausted from the city life that has bound him each and every single day. He was visiting the hill not either to relax or to have fun; he was just trying to get some times alone with himself. But he never knew that the short trip was only about to leave him with something that he could not explain.

Upon arriving at the top of the hill, he took a spot and sat there. He was still only by himself; the only companion was the sunshine and the cool breeze blowing to his face. A single dandelion grew beside where he sat, but he was just seemed to be drowned into his own mind that he hardly noticed the flower.

In silence, the dandelion watched him. She directly fell in love with him. Well, it’s weird actually for her to fall in love with him—a human. But then, love knows no boundaries—who says a flower can’t fall in love with human being? Or vice versa?

Yes, love knew no boundaries, but her being as a flower did. No matter how bad she wanted to talk to him, at least just to know his name, she couldn’t find a way to communicate. How could she, in any way? If only she knew any language to communicate with him, it would have been better. No, if only she could talk, things must have been a lot easier.

And so there she was; still attached to her roots in the ground, still saying not a single word.

And so there he was; knowing nothing at all about the storm howling in the dandelion’s mind.

… … …

It’s been days since she met him. And still she’s left wondering how she could tell him that she had been missing him and wishing to see him again, even if it’s only for seconds.

As she was starting to get tired thinking of a way she could not figure out, her seeds were starting to weaken.

In her despair, one of her seeds said, “I’m about to leave you. The wind is about to take me to fly.”

She confirmed, “Yes, just go. Your time has come, don’t waste it.”

“But I can’t leave you like this,” the seed continued. “I think I may be able to do some last things for you.”

She thought for a while, and said, “You are a part of me. Take what’s in my mind and heart when you go, and please deliver it to the one.”

As she did so, the rest of her seeds also heard what she had said. And they were part of her, so they decided to do what she asked when their time had come.

… … …

There, the seed flew with the wind. It flew and flew, leaving the sky above the hill it used to live in. It flew across the sky, across the  villages, to the city.

And finally, it found the man who had created the storm in the dandelion’s mind and heart. So it flew closer and closer until it eventually was able to rest on the man’s palm.

The man noticed the seed on his palm and he got rather surprised. But there’s nothing really special about it, so he threw it away.

… … …

But the seed wasn’t the only one. Days go by, and every single day, the wind never failed to fly a seed and put each of them on his palm. It happened continuously; sometimes when he was sitting on his desk working, sometimes when he was just sitting somewhere doing nothing, but mostly it happened during his sleep.

The seeds finally got his attention. Not that he was feeling annoyed, but it’s more that he started to wonder how and why the seeds seemed to always find a way to his palm.

“Where the hell do these things come from?” he asked himself. And just right at that moment, he remembered a place where he had seen them. “The hill!”

For reasons he didn’t know for sure, he eventually decided to gave the hill another visit. So he packed, drove out of the town, and climbed the hill. It was another summer when he returned to the hill, and the flowers were blooming. All of the flowers, except the one dandelion on the top of the hill.

The man recognized the spot he had taken seat on during his first trip, and he sat there again. This time, he took a shorter distance from the dried dandelion. And yes, finally his eyes were fixed on the dandelion; it’s swaying slowly as the wind was blowing.

 

“The seeds must be yours. Weird though, but they must have been yours,” he said to the dandelion, somewhat sounded as if he was assuring himself. “And now you’re dried. Right just at the moment when I finally returned here.”

The dandelion did not responded.

No, she actually responded, but it’s only that the man hadn’t noticed yet.

“I’ve sent all my seeds to you to get you back here,” she said. “And now that you’re here, I’ll start growing again. If you leave, I’ll sent another seeds. Another and more, ‘till you know that I’ve been missing you so badly. ‘Till the seeds get you back here.”

She said that all. In a silent sound, in an unknown language.

Maybe one day, if she kept sending her seeds, he would finally understand what she was longing to say. One day, maybe.

* * *

Have you ever met someone who made you think that you two would meet again—for reasons you don’t even know? I bet you all have, and so have I.

Perhaps, like the dandelion, if we keep sending them parts of what’s stroming in our mind and heart, then eventually the two of you would meet again. Don’t ask how. Just send the message—message spoken in in silent sound, in unknown language. And which could be understood only in dreams.

 

Yogyakarta, 17 February 2012

~Widie

*Read more about dandelion (taraxacum) here.

 

*********************************************************************

Di sebuah bukit, tumbuh sekerumunan bunga dandelion*. Tinggi pendek, kuning putih, asli atau hanya mirip―semuanya ada di sana.

Di suatu siang yang cerah di tengah hangatnya musim panas, seorang pria mendaki bukit itu. Tanpa sahabat, tanpa semangat; barangkali ia jenuh dengan kehidupan kota yang membelenggunya setiap hari. Ia mendaki bukit itu bukan untuk bersantai atau bersenang-senang; ia hanya butuh waktu untuk sendiri. Namun, ia tak pernah tahu bahwa pendakiannya itu akan meninggalkan sesuatu yang tak bisa ia pahami.

Sesampainya di puncak bukit, pria itu mencari tempat untuk duduk. Ia masih juga sendirian saja; satu-satunya yang menemaninya hanyalah sinar matahari dan sejuknya angin yang menerpa wajahnya. Tak jauh dari tempatnya duduk, tumbuh setangkai bunga dandelion. Pria itu seperti tenggelam dalam pikirannya sendiri sehingga ia hampir tidak menyadari keberadaan bunga itu.

Dalam diam, si bunga dandelion mengamati pria itu. Ia langsung jatuh hati pada pria itu—pada seorang manusia. Aneh memang, bagaimana bisa setangkai bunga jatuh hati pada manusia? Tapi, cinta memang tak kenal batas, kan—siapa bilang setangkai bunga tidak bisa jatuh hati pada manusia? Atau sebaliknya?

Memang, cinta tak kenal batasan. Keberadaan lah yang kenal batas. Sebesar apapun keinginannya untuk berbicara dengan pria itu, setidaknya hanya untuk menanyakan namanya, ia tetap tak tahu bagaimana caranya berkomunikasi dengannya. Lagipula, memangnya bisa? Kalau saja bunga itu bisa berbicara dalam bahasa si pria, pasti akan beda jadinya. Tidak—kalau saja ia bisa bicara, pasti semua jadi lebih mudah.

Begitulah; bunga itu masih saja di sana—terikat pada akarnya, tanpa bisa mengatakan apa-apa.

Begitulah; pria itu juga masih duduk di sana—sama sekali tak tahu ada badai tengah berkecamuk di benak setangkai bunga dandelion.

… … …

Sudah berhari-hari berlalu sejak pertemuan itu. Dan bunga dandelion itu masih saja bertanya-tanya bagaimana kiranya ia bisa memberitahu pria itu tentang kerinduannya dan keinginannya untuk berjumpa lagi walau mungkin hanya beberapa detik saja.

 

Saat ia mulai lelah mencari jalan yang tak kunjung ditemukannya, helai-helai bunganya mulai mengering.

Dalam keputus asaannya itu, salah satu helai bunganya berkata, “Sebentar lagi aku akan meninggalkanmu. Angin akan segera menerbangkanku dan membawaku pergi.”

Bunga itu mengiyakan, “Pergilah. Sudah saatnya, jangan buang waktu.”

“Tapi aku tidak bisa meninggalkanmu dalam keadaan seperti ini,” kata helai bunganya lagi. “Pasti ada sesuatu yang bisa kulakukan untukmu untuk terakhir kalinya sebelum aku pergi.”

Bunga itu berpikir sejanak, kemudian berkata, “Kau adalah bagian dariku. Pergilah, bawalah apa yang ada di benak dan hatiku bersamamu, dan sampaikan padanya.”

Semua helai bunganya mendengarnya, dan masing-masing dari mereka berjanji akan melakukan apa yang diminta bunga dandelion itu.

… … …

Begitulah, helai bunga itu terbang bersama angin. Ia terus terbang dan terbang, meninggalkan langit di atas bukit tempatnya dulu tumbuh. Ia terus terbang menyusuri desa dan sampai di kota.

Akhirnya, helai bunga itu menemukan sang pria yang telah menciptakan badai dalam benak dan hati bunga dandelion di  atas bukit itu. Maka, ia pun terbang mendekat dan akhirnya menjatuhkan diri di atas telapak tangan pria itu. Sang pria sedikit terkejut, namun tak terlalu menggubris helai bunga itu; helai bunga itu pun dikibaskannya dari telapak tangannya.

… … …

Namun, helai bunga itu tak sendirian. Hari-hari berlalu, dan setiap hari angin selalu membawa satu helai bunga dan menjatuhkannya ke atas telapak tangan pria itu. Begitu terus; kadang helai bunga itu jatuh saat pria itu sedang bekerja, kadang saat ia sedang duduk melamun, namun kebanyakan helai bunga itu jatuh saat pria itu tidur.

Mau tak mau akhirnya pria itu memperhatikan helaian bunga dandelion yang jatuh di atas telapak tangannya. Bukannya ia merasa terusik; ia hanya mulai heran bagaimana dan mengapa helai demi helai bunga itu tampaknya selalu punya jalan sendiri untuk sampai di atas tangannya. “Dari mana asal helai-helai bunga ini?” pria itu bertanya-tanya. Dan saat itu pulalah ia ingat di mana ia pernah melihat helai-helai bunga itu. “Bukit itu!”

Entah kenapa, pria itu memutuskan untuk mendaki bukit itu lagi. Maka ia pun berkemas, meninggalkan kota, dan pergi mendaki bukit itu. Saat itu sudah musim panas yang kesekian, dan semua bunga di atas bukit itu sedang berkembang. Semua, kecuali setangkai bunga dandelion di puncak bukit.

Pria itu masih ingat tempatnya duduk saat pertama kali mendaki bukit itu, maka ia pun kembali duduk di tempat yang sama. Kali ini, ia duduk sedikit lebih dekat dengan bunga dandelion itu. Dan ya, akhirnya matanya tepaku pada setangkai bunga dandelion kering di dekatnya; bunga dandelion yang bergoyang pelan bersama hembusan angin.

“Helai-helai bunga itu pasti pasti berasal darimu. Entahlah, tapi aku yakin mereka pasti milikmu,” katanya pada bunga dandelion itu, walau sebenarnya ia mungkin hanya tengah meyakinkan dirinya sendiri saja. “Dan sekarang kau mulai mengering. Justru saat aku akhirnya kembali ke sini.”

Bunga dandelion itu diam tak menjawab.

Tidak, sebenarnya ia menjawab, hanya saja pria itu belum menyadarinya.

“Aku sudah mengirimkan semua helaian bungaku untuk bisa membawamu kembali ke tempat ini,” katanya. “Dan sekarang kau sudah ada di sini. Helai-helai bungaku akan tumbuh lagi. Jika kau pergi, aku akan mengirimkan helaian-helaian baru—akan terus kukirimkan banyak-banyak, sampai kau tahu bahwa aku merindukanmu. Sampai helaian-helaian bungaku akhirnya membawamu untuk kembali menemuiku.”

Begitulah bunga dandelion itu bicara. Dalam suara bisu, dalam bahasa tak dikenal.

Barangkali suatu hari, jika ia terus mengirimkan helaian-helaian bunganya, pria itu akhirnya akan bisa memahami apa yang selama ini ingin ia sampaikan. Suatu hari, barangkali.

* * *

Kita pasti pernah bertemu seseorang yang membuat kita yakin bahwa akan ada pertemuan selanjutnya—pertemuan yang didasari oleh alasan yang bahkan kita sendiri tak tahu.

Barangkali, seperti bunga dandelion di puncak bukit itu, jika kita terus mengirimkan sebagian badai  yang melanda pikiran dan hati kita, maka suatu saat kita benar-benar akan berjumpa lagi dengan orang itu. Jangan tanya bagaimana. Kirimkan saja pesannya—pesan yang terucap dalam suara bisu, dalam bahasa tak dikenal. Dan yang hanya bisa dipahami melalui mimpi.

 

Yogyakarta, 17 Februari 2012

~Widie

*Selengkapnya tentang dandelion (taraxacum) bisa dibaca di sini.

 

 

 

 

 

One response

  1. irine

    aku akan terus mengirimkan helai-helai bungaku sampai kau tau aku merindukanmu….
    aaa…..apik iki

    February 21, 2012 at 3:23 pm

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