Tentang Pengorbanan

Manusia modern mungkin menganggap ritual pengorbanan yang telah dilakukan oleh manusia ratusan bahkan ribuan tahun yang lalu sebagai hal yang gila dan tak masuk akal. Mereka mengorbankan apa yang mereka cintai, miliki dan bahkan diri mereka sendiri kepada suatu entitas transendental sebagai pembuktian loyalitas dan kebaktian mereka atau agar keinginan-keinginan mereka terpenuhi.

Dalam tradisi agama Samawi, pengorbanan sudah mulai dilakukan oleh putera-putera Adam, Habil yang seorang peternak mengorbankan kambing dan Qabil yang seorang petani mengorbankan hasil taninya. Namun Tuhan hanya puas dan menerima pengorbanan Habil (karena dia mengorbankan miliknya yang terbaik, sedangkan Habil tidak). Bahkan dalam Islam, ada hari besar untuk memperingati kisah Ibrahim yang hendak mengorbankan Ismail, anak kesayangannya. Selain itu, pengorbanan benda dan manusia telah dilakukan kepada sosok gaib di Yunani, Mesir, Arab, Amerika Kuno dan berbagai zaman serta kebudayaan lain.

Gasasan dibalik pengorbanan yang paling kukagumi adalah keseriusan yang ditanam dalam setiap ritual yang orang-orang itu lakukan. Aku tidak pernah merasa dapat membuktikan keseriusan dan kebaktianku—setingkat dengan mereka—pada entitas transenden yang kuimani.

Walaupun pengorbanan yang dilakukan dahulu dan sekarang berbeda, namun secara filosofis, keduanya dilakukan untuk memastikan—atau menjaga kemungkinan—suatu kondisi yang lebih baik atau positif di masa depan, baik moril atau materil. Hal ini dilakukan dengan cara mengorbankan ‘masa kini’. Ada banyak hal yang secara simbolis ternyata termasuk ke dalam kategori pengorbanan. Salah satu bentuknya adalah yang mengakibatkan rasa sakit, seperti ritual khitan di mana laki-laki, pada umumnya, mengorbankan bagian tubuhnya sebagai bentuk keseriusan ibadah atau memastikan suatu kondisi medis yang lebih baik di masa depan. Ada pula kegiatan menato tubuh yang merupakan suatu transformasi identitas diri menjadi manusia yang mendesain dirinya sendiri. Tentu saja proses pentatoan tersebut mengakibatkan rasa sakit, namun itulah pengorbanannya, rasa sakit itu penting sebagai tanda pengingat, secara simbolis, adanya suatu tekad dan keseriusan mengenai transformasi diri.

Aku rasa bekerja merupakan suatu pengorbanan di mana orang-orang mengorbankan waktu, tenaga, dan kesehatannya untuk menjaga kemungkinan bahwa di masa depan, kehidupan mereka atau penerus mereka akan lebih baik. Jika bekerja adalah suatu pengorbanan, maka negara adalah badan yang menyimpan pengorbanan-pengorbanan manusia. Suatu negara dapat dikatakan stabil apabila negara tersebut dapat menyimpan pengorbanan masyarakatnya serta tetap menjanjikan ganjaran dan jaminan di kemudian hari, itulah yang menyebabkan masyarakat tetap melakukan pengorbanan yang menggerakan roda peradaban.

Aku sering mendengar ungkapan bahwa hidup itu cuma sekali, oleh karena itu, nikmatilah hidup! Lakukanlah apa yang membuatmu senang dan bahagia saat ini juga! Filosofi ini yang mungkin menjadi antitesis dari perkembangan, karena perjuangan, dengan cara belajar, bekerja, memulai bisnis, berperang, sampai beribadah pun membutuhkan pengorbanan. Pengorbanan adalah perjuangan antara kenyamanan masa kini dan janji-janji masa depan, yang selalu dimenangkan oleh masa depan.

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Aku merasa ada suatu mekanisme primitif, yang lebih tua dari diriku sendiri, yang tidak boleh diabaikan. Mekanisme hewani yang menuntutku untuk menggenggam apapun yang membuatku bahagia saat itu juga. Aku tahu jawabannya adalah ekuilibrium. Namun, banyak hal bersifat terlalu dikotomis, yang tak ada titik tengahnya.

Random Thoughts in the Afternoon—until Midnight

I am in my porch, this afternoon. I like watching the sun when it rises or sets, but I lose count of how many sunrises and sunsets that I missed. One time I was by a beach in the south. It was 3 AM and I decided that I was going to sit on a bench by the shore, waiting for the sun to rise. It is strange how in one occasion, I chase it and in another I almost don’t care about it, especially when I am at home or office. 

Anyway, I read a magazine a few years ago. It says, statistically speaking, up to 80% of people don’t like their job. I just don’t know why. I like my job. I like it too much, perhaps. After I resigned, at times, I woke and got myself prepared for working. I am supposed to feel free, now. What is freedom, anyway? If I were free, I can do what I want to do.

I like when the sun is setting. The way it paints the sky with such wonderful layers of gradations.

I remember 10 years ago, at this time, I was going home from a madrasah (Islamic school) that I and my sister had to attend after school (we started school at 1 PM). I can picture everything all the way from the madrasah to my house, the river, the dark alley, the smell of fried bakso (meatball) that we almost always bought. We all used to run and play hide-and-seek until it was dark and our parents asked us to go back home. I used to have many friends. Then, I had to bid farewell when we moved, and then I had to find other friends, and then we moved again, and then I had to find other friends again. This loop happened for 6 times and then I didn’t bother looking for friends anymore. Even as a boy, I was forced to see everything as transient. I will always lose what I dear and have to keep moving on whether I am ready or not. Like Santiago, the old fisherman who had to let the sharks eat his large marlin (that he finally caught after a tiring fight for days) in Hemingway’s novella “The Old Man and the Sea”.

I cannot see the sun any longer. The sky turn into dark and light purple.

Perhaps this is life. Even the day has to bid farewell to the sun every day. 

No! It is different. The day knows that same sun will come back tomorrow. But how about me? All things that I dear will only be a memory as I will be for them. And memory is transient, dynamic and changing, unlike photograph. I like seeing my old photograph—photograph when I was young—and tell stories of when and where it was taken and what I was like. It is strange how I can bridge a two dimensional picture of a boy and me. I mean, is that truly me? There is a finding in neurobiology stating that the cells in our body are dying and living every day. Thus, in 6-7 years, we are completely a new different person. 

What am I actually? I am not this hand, head, brain or any other biological organs for if those organs are taken, people will still call me ‘me’. I am not my thought for it is dynamic and changing. I am not ‘the soul’ or ‘the spirit’ or ‘the life’ for when I die, people will still associate this body with me. They even bother taking care of this body or put my name in my gravestone.

I hear the adzan. It reminds me of the stories that my parents told me (that their parents told them) that at this time, the jinn, ghosts and all the dark supernatural beings woke up. So, everyone had to go inside and close the door, at least until after 7. This time too, I will.

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It is truly a good night. The moon is full and there are some stars. I don’t see the moon like the poets or romantics. The moon does not inspire me or anything. It somehow just reminds me of a windy night in a far city by the beach. Anyway, I am not supposed to talk about it. 

I am forgetful. I can forget anything instantly. At times, I cannot even remember a four-digit number. I almost always forget names and things. That is, perhaps, one of the reasons I do not consider myself a ‘social’ person. But, at times, I am amazed by how something (a sight, a smell, a sound, a taste or a texture) can conjure a moment in such details. A smell of perfume or any random smell can remind me of a person. A seat in a public transportation can bring me into a specific moment. It can be a torture, sometimes, when it takes me to remembering a person or moment that I want to forget.

It is a windy night also, here. The night is getting late and cold but I don’t care. These days, I sleep and wake at any time I want to. I like to see the road when there is no people. Like when I jogged at the first morning of 2018. It is so tranquil. There are moments when I don’t like people in general. They are boring. They walk and do anything the way they are told to do. I would rather watch a cat, bird or other animals for hours. They are instinctive and unpredictable. They do anything as they wish. Human are like that too when they were babies, when a lot of things have not change them. I think we all used to have this big transparent bubble surrounding us. As we grow up, the bubble starts to get smaller and smaller.

I was curious why rats are used as subjects of behavioral research. They are identical to human. Years ago, I read an article on overpopulation. It says when the population of rats is skyrocketing, it can be nasty. Some of them turn into cannibals, some others rape each other, regardless of the sex, until they died. I don’t know if the research is valid or not. Anyway, it sort of foretells what will happen (or is happening) in human.

Speaking of sex, I disagree with those associating (sexual) lust with animalistic libido because most animal have sex only when the female is ovulating, or when they want to generate offspring. As in Sex at Dawn by Christopher Ryan, it is reasonable since having sex can be dangerous for they cannot be cautious when predators come and it drains their energy as well. But, human, chimps, chimpanzees and other highly social primates have sex almost all the time. They have sex when the female is not ovulating, in post-menopause phase, pregnant, in lactation phase. They even have sex with same sex and use condoms. So, we are insulting animal when we call a person an animal (sexually speaking).

My little brother likes animal. We used to have 2 cats. I am the bad kid and he is the good kid when it comes to cats. I used to kick them when they were at my feet. We took one cat when we moved, another was out when we moved. Seven years later, we lost it for a week, and I found it dying in a parking spot. It died in my hands. My brother cried when we buried it. I played it cool, but it was sad and then I cried too, even though I was 20. No one knows.

I always have this idea that nobody shall see me crying, that what they could see is me when I was happy or at least at my neutral state.

It is midnight. I have no idea what I am writing. I sort of blurting out what comes into my mind. Anyway, this is what it feels to be me. This is how I think. It is incoherent. It is chaotic. 

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