Proaktif dan Reaktif


Saya sering berkunjung ke blog teman-teman saya untuk sekedar baca-baca, namun terkadang terasa merasa malas membacanya, bukan karena bahasa Inggrisnya tidak bagus, hanya saja terkadang saya merasa malas untuk membaca tulisan berbahasa Inggris—sehingga harus melakukan dua proses kognitif sekaligus. Jadi, walaupun tulisan berbahasa Indonesia saya tidak sebagus jika saya menulis dengan bahasa Inggris—yang sebenarnya memang belum bagus juga—kali ini saya menulis dengan menggunakan bahasa Indonesia karena saya menganggap bahwa ini merupakan hal yang cukup penting untuk dibaca oleh teman saya yang bukan hanya dari jurusan bahasa Inggris.

Ada dua terminologi yang telah mengubah kehidupan saya—Reaktif dan Proaktif. Kerapkali saya menilai orang terlalu cepat dengan hanya memperhatikan dua tipe ini. Yaitu orang yang reaktif dan proaktif.

Saya sendiri mendefinisikan ‘reaktif’ sebagai perilaku yang didasari atas emosi, sehingga orang yang reaktif dalam menghadapi suatu masalah, cenderung tidak bisa menggunakan logikanya. Hal ini menyebabkan permasalahan tersebut bukannya terselesaikan, malah terasa semakin berat baik secara psikologis orang tersebut, maupun pada kenyataannya, karena memang psikologis akan memengaruhi realitas. Sedangkan ‘proaktif’ bermakna sebaliknya.

Sebagai contoh, karena saya tinggal di Bandung, macet sudah bukan hal yang baru, malah sudah menjadi bagian dari keseharian. Pada suatu hari, entah mengapa lalu-lintas bandung macet total, tingkat emosi para pengguna jalan pun saya rasa meningkat—diindikasikan banyaknya frekuensi klakson dan umpatan-umpatan mereka—namun, berteriak dan marah-marah tentu saja tidak bisa mengubah macet; yang ada malah membuat situasi semakin parah. Pada saat itu saya coba untuk tenang dan berdiam diri, buat apa marah-marah? Memang itu bisa mengubah keadaan? Pada saat itu, seketika saya memaksa alam bawah sadar saya untuk tenang, dan dampaknya malah saya tidak merasa kesal sama sekali.

Pernah, pada suatu pagi, konsentrasi saya di kelas hancur hanya karena perasaan kesal atas kemacetan, saya merasa bodoh sekali pada saat itu karena suasana hati saya sendiri yang telah merusak kesempatan otak saya untuk mencerna materi kuliah pada saat itu, sejak saat itulah saya tidak pernah menyia-nyiakan potensi otak saya yang maksimalnya saja hanya bisa digunakan beberapa persennya saja.

Contoh lainnya, baru-baru ini ketika saya medaftar KKN, saya menghadapi suatu hasil yang mungkin sebagian orang mengganggap ini hal penting. Pendaftaran KKN dibuka pukul 4 sore, dan seketika seluruh mahasiswa—khususnya mahasiswa UPI angkatan 2011—berlomba mendaftar di daerah yang menjadi favorit mereka. Karena pedaftarannya dilakukan secara online, pada saat itu, saya sudah bersiap-siap didepan laptop agar tempat tujuan saya tidak keburu penuh.

Setelah cukup lama menunggu akhirnya pendaftaran KKN pun dibuka, ternyata pada dua menit pertama, tempat tujuan saya sudah penuh kuotanya sehingga saya mencoba memilih tempat tujuan saya yang kedua, namun sayangnya, tempat kedua pun telah penuh. Kemudian saya melihat-lihat lokasi KKN yang lainnya yang mulai dipenuhi juga.

Karena terlalu lama berpikir, ternyata hampir semua lokasi yang tersedia sudah penuh dan hanya tersedia satu lokasi—lokasi yang paling tidak diinginkan—yang sebelumnya sering saya lontarkan sebagai bahan bercandaan kepada teman-teman saya.

Disitu, saya bisa saja menangis dan menyesali keterlambatan dan ke-plin-plan-an saya dalam memilih. Namun saya menyadari bahwa hal itu tidak akan menyelesaikan masalah, yg ada malah membuat saya tidak bisa berpikir dengan jernih. Pada saat itu, analisis situasional saya malah menyuruh saya untuk tidak memilih lokasi manapun. Selanjutnya, saya rasa saya tidak perlu menceritakan bagaimana saya akhirnya bisa mendapatkan lokasi yang lebih baik daripada yang bisa saya dapatkan pada saat itu.

Ketika menghadapi suatu permasalahan, ada dua metode yang bisa digunakan. Orang-orang reaktif akan mencari letak dan penyebab permasalahan untuk disesali (problem-oriented). Sedangkan orang-orang proaktif akan mencari solusi yang memungkinkan yang bisa diterapkan untuk memecahkan masalah (solution-oriented).

Saya teringat kepada Sherlock Holmes—satu-satunya tokoh favorit saya—yang sering mengatakan bahwa emosi adalah hal yang merusak logika dan analisisnya, dan hal inilah yang menyebabkannya tidak mau berpacaran, menikah, ataupun mengenal cinta dan hal lainnya yang menyangkut perasaan dan emosi—yang didefinisikannya sebagai ‘Human Error.’ Hal ini bisa dilihat dari, satu-satunya titik lemah Holmes yang notabene merupakan sahabatnya sendiri, John Watson.

Menjadi orang yang proaktif merupakan hal yang sangat ingin saya terapkan dalam kehidupan saya. Ketika dihadapkan kepada permasalahan seperti apapun, saya akan berusaha tetap tenang untuk mencari jalan keluar untuk memecahkannya. Hal ini juga lah yang menyebabkan saya sering menyendiri. Jadi, teman-teman, ketika saya menyendiri, itu tandanya saya sedang memikirkan suatu solusi untuk memecahkan sebuah permasalahan yang besar (saya selalu merasa bahwa permasalahan saya adalah tanggungjawab saya), namun ini tidak semerta-merta berarti bahwa saya tidak pernah bercerita ataupun meminta saran dan bantuan teman-teman saya; semakin saya diam dan menyendiri, semakin besar pula lah permasalahan yang sedang saya hadapi.

Semuanya ada didalam kepala kita, yang perlu kita lakukan adalah memaksimalkan pemikiran kita dengan cara memperkecil tingkat bias-bias emosi yang akan memengaruhi analisis dan solusi yang sedang kita pikirkan.

Sekali lagi saya ingin mengingatkan kepada semua teman-teman saya bahwa ketika saya menyendiri dan diam tak berekspresi, atau tidak tertawa mendengar lelucon-lelucon orang, itu bukan berarti saya mencoba menjadi orang yang sok cool atau apalah itu, saya hanya ingin berdialog—dalam jangka waktu tertentu—dengan bagian diri saya yang lain.


N.B. Saya membaca materi tentang proaktif dan reaktif beberapa tahun yang lalu, dan saya lupa dari buku apa, karya siapa. Bukunya pun sudah tidak ada. Namun yang pasti, tulisan ini hanyalah ekspresi, interpretasi, dan representasi dari saya atas ide milik orang lain—bukan ide saya.



Unexpected Journey #1


"Great things always come when I stepped outside my comfort zone."

At 10 P.M. on 8th April 2014, I went home with the tired body and weary mind. After had a bath, I threw myself into my bed and soon, I came back into the realm of my unconscious mind. I did not know what happened inside of me, I, however, was sure it was a blast that woke me up. I glanced at the clock hanging on my wall; it was 2 A.M in the morning. I tried to sleep again, but I just could not. Anyway, that was me, I could neither sleep in the evening, nor could I wake up in the morning. Such a strange!

That day, I thought of everything, every happiness and sadness that had formed me to what I am. I was listening of the ticking sound of my clock when suddenly something happened, I did not know what it was. There was a huge urge from my conscious mind to just go away from my house. At that very time –around 4 A.M. —I took my bag and started packing up. I did not know where I was going; like a branch in the middle of the river stream, I just followed where the fate of the great river took me.

It was 6 o'clock in the morning when I realized that I was no longer in my comfort zone. I was in Jakarta!

I did not know for sure where my body took me. Shortly after got down from the shuttle, I took a commuter train. I got on to the first train and sat; it was rather strange and uncomfortable in that compartment but I could not explain it, all the eyes seemed to rain me with thousands presuppositions. 

I saw a woman with a uniform come after me. She looked into my eyes and then crouched, "excuse me, this is a women's compartment", she said.

With a frowning face, I responded, "I beg your pardon?"

"This is the compartment for women, men are not allowed. You can move back through that door", she pointed a door which connected the compartments.

And then I walked to that door. Such a shame!

I was at Gambir station at 7 o'clock in the morning. 

There, my story begins

(to be continued)

2nd Letter


Dear my Dearie

How are you there? 
I have been thinking that you are right about everything. I should not have told you what I feel about you, since it bother you so much. I should have kept it in my mind only, like I do ever since.

I am so sorry for everything I had done to you, all the intrusions. I should have been out of your lawn; staring at you at a distance, smiling.

Anyway, there is one thing I really thank you. Thanks for coloring my colorless life. My life is no longer an empty paper now, there’re ripped, scrawls, rumpled parts; I, however, like it.

I do hope you will fell the happiness I felt every time I think and dream of, you.

I do hope there will be someone out there who will give you the opportunity to experience the love your eyes have given me, not what your heart did.

I do hope you will always be happy.

I do hope your boyfriend love you like you love him because I don’t want you to experience the broken heart I felt.



H.

Normality


“Well, this is the life I had to get through”, I said.

“But why?” he frowned, “you don’t have to be like this. There are so many good places out there. Those were what people called life!”

“Because my father told me not to”, I looked into his brown eyes, “I am his daughter, so what I have to do is to do what he want.”

I heard him utter no word. There was it, the sound I hated most; the deafening silence. I could almost hear the ticking of the clocks, the blast of the wind, and his pounding heartbeats. I rather heard him blabbering than be in this uncomfortable state of quiet. At the very end of every relationship I ever had, there was always a silence before the last look, and then leaving as the dark clouds in my eyes began releasing its particles.

Then I took a deep breath and started talking, “when I was a girl, shortly after my mom passed away in a car accident, my father always asked me to be careful wherever I am. He asked me to live like all normal people, just be in a straight path. My dad had his servant drive me everywhere I went. That was the time when everyone started to go away from me, all the boys began treating me as if I was fragile.”

“How do you feel about that?”

I took a piece of tissue in case I needed it, and then looked at his puzzled face “at first, I got it wrong; but then I feel that my dad is somehow right, everything may befall me.”

He said nothing.

“That is why I have never been camping or doing anything out of what-so-called comfort zone. It sometimes bothers me, yet here I am, safe and sound”, I replied without looking at him, “…and I hope, you love me just the way I am.”

He stared down onto the floor, smiling, “yeah, I love you and I am not in any way of changing you.” He put on his coat as if he wanted to leave.

“Wait!” I stood up, “I thought you love me.”

“I do love you dearie and I will always; I am not denying this infatuating feeling”, he threw me a cold smiled, “leaving you does not mean that I stop loving you. I have just loved you enough; and now, I will just love you from an invisible spaces and indefinable time. I will love you in unnoticeable way; within the beats of your heart, the blinks of your eyes, and the breath of your lungs.”

My mind was about to vomit all my thoughts but my lips uttered no words.

By the threshold, he stopped, ”normal people in my town prefers staying at bright places in the evening for a comfortable and safe reasons; for that reasons, they had never seen the beauty of fireflies, they do not even know there is firefly.”

That very second, he threw his last look into my eyes before the last time I saw him.

I could notice my quiver feet that could have walked after him;

I could see my trembling two hands that could have held him;

I could feel my twitching lips that could have called him back;

…yet, I did nothing but seeing him walking further and further away from me.

…and he has gone..

Farewell

On the threshold I leaned, looking into her two wet eyes. My hands trembling, my head dizzy, my quiver lips let me utter no words. I kept looking at her sitting on the corner of this small chamber with raised-head. We had enough reason to be together; yet we had enough reason to fall apart too, differences.

I had so many things to say, but all my words were just stuck in my throat, allowing me not to say anything, but silence. In all the awkwardness and conflict between us, suddenly my thoughts were just flying to the very first time when I buried my heart into hers. I almost could not recall how I love her; it was just like a moment between two heartbeats, I saw her completely different from what I used to see her for years, just like a black hole that suck my dimly lighted heart into. I could not resist, but meekly allowing myself to go deep inside the blackness that possibly killed me.

An old man was once told me that we never really lived in the present; everything we saw is only the fraction of the milliseconds or maybe million years passed. When I stared at a light in the sky, it was the ancient constellation that perhaps is now dead. The same goes to love; when I saw  love in your eyes, it may be the fraction of the past.

I looked into her wet eyes; the tears slowly went down her cheeks like the stream in the spring day, released all the remaining frozen particles from the former winter. She is free.

The Veranda

"He have always been there for several hours”, said she. 

I walked feebly to the window, and stared at him. He was standing and leaning over the fence of the veranda, looking at nothing but the emptiness of the dark sky. He was a very calm young man at about 25 years old, looked tidy with a black coat. I sat on the window frame, took a gulp of the champagne; then I asked her, “Who is he? He looks happy over there.”

She glanced over the window and sighed, “He looks happy physically, but look into his eyes; he is psychologically sad, tortured by something—“

“How do you know about that?” I interrupted. “How can you be so sure of him? You do not even know him.”

She grinned, “I know him pretty well; I just know.” Then she sat on a chair in the middle of the room, smoldering a cigarette in between her two lips. She looked into my eyes and said, “I think you know him too; take a look at him.”

I was flustered, “No, I don’t”, I replied.

“Look at him!” She retorted.

“Okay.. Okay”, I meekly looked at him. Although I did not know him, he looked familiar to me as if I knew him well. It seemed that he reminisce me of something happened very long time ago. This room seemed like to have filled with a gray mist that blurred my vision and stung as I breathed as if something was pressing me. I felt uncomfortable.

“Have you got anything of him?” She startled me. 

“No”, I snarled; then I added, “How long am I going to be stuck in here? Let me out of here! I need to meet Patricia; she must be waiting for me by now.”

“You cannot. You know this game pretty well, and if you went out this room; you know that it will bring no good. Patricia will be fine as long as you behave well.” She snapped as she stubbed out her cigarette on the floor.

“What’s happening with her? If you ever touch her, I—“

“Shut up! Just look at the man on the veranda!” She screamed.

I smelt something fishy on her; how could she talk so harsh to me, I had just known her for a few days. She might be a cold-blooded criminal or fugitive. It was written all over her face, the evil inside her. I had to fight for my life and for my fiancée, Patricia, but it had to be well-planned. I would just pretend to meekly follow her game and by the time, she is the one who will play on my game. I turned my head over the man in the veranda once again and kept my eyes on him.

Nothing happened for the first 15 minutes, I almost fell asleep. But there came a young lady with a white blouse, I supposed she was the young man’s girlfriend, or his wife perhaps, for they wore the same rings on both of their ring finger .They was talking and laughing when suddenly the man’s countenance changed dramatically from a very gentle to be somewhat ghastly, his eyes bulk, his grimaced with a bloodthirsty look. In infatuation, he started punching the young lady on the face, and soon she lost her conscious. The man then took a knife, and started mutilating her; the blood splashed all over the veranda, the red viscous liquid that aroused me to some kind of paroxysms. 

“Hey! Call the police! Call the police!” I screamed at the top of my voice, but she kept sitting on the chair in the middle of the room, smiling as if she enjoyed every second of the torturing.

I took a wooden chair beside her and threw it on the window. The deafening sound of the broken glass must call the police, for they soon broke into the room.

“Freeze!” They warned, as pointing a gun.

“That man, sir, over there—“As I pointed into the veranda, there was nothing, the man, the blood splash, or anything.

I was perplexed at how that might possibly happen. I frantically stammered, “It must be some kind of black magic. There was a murder just now.” Then I glanced at the women sitting on the middle of the room; and then I muttered, “It’s her. She must be involved in that murder!”

Then my mother came after me with a bow head and tears wetting both of her cheeks. She hugged me, and whispered, “It is all over son, surrender to them.”

“What are you saying, mom? And where is Patricia?” I asked my mother hoarsely.

My mother sobbed “She’s gone, son. Mutilated right in that veranda four days ago.”


-- The End--

The Sixth Semester's Virtues

The fifth semester has passed and now in the void, I am looking forward to the next semester. Glancing over my shoulder, it was just like yesterday I anchored and stepped on the shore in the new land of the fifth semester with all the things reminisced me about the virtues I got in the forth one, when I performed a drama with the people I love.

Sometimes, time moves so fast that I cannot even aware of the things which suddenly become my history that then go hand in hand with me moving on to another phase of my life. Time, the ghastly unseen thing that devours all of my past, escorts me to my future, and gnaws my presents.

Time, in this semester is then leaving me with the happy tears and the discovering of myself. I was about to cry when I, along with my trusted friends created a musical drama from the very zero to a succesfull one. It was really amazing to see my imagination which was merely an utopian mirage, with all the goods and bads, ups and downs, and all others problems and conflicts, is acted nicely. 

The problems, conflicts, and all the things I hated, turn out to be the stepping-stones that bring me to the higher level of personality. I never even thought of speaking in front of many people, directed people, or trained people. In short, I did not have any leader ability. However, through those problems, although many people would judge me wrong. I should be able to. Those things simply and solely shaped me into what I am today. 


-Thank you all my friends-

The Reunion

I was here, standing under the flickering stars and the silver moon, surrounded by the smooth wind smiling at my emptiness. I used to be here, wielding the light to reunite the pieces of the divine inspirations and unanswered questions scattered all over my darkened soul, and my hazy eyes.

I looked into the boundless dark of the night where I could find all what I wanted to find in my life, only the way to find it remains a secret. But I kept looking at it, although there was no light except the endless darkness. The wind greeted me with her firm embrace, danced by the nape of my neck, and my ears as if she tried to whisper something to me. But she was so smooth, and my superficiality could not catch any of her omens.

I was still here, as a child who wanted to regain his pure heart and thoughts, to befriended and spoke with the nature, the smooth wind, the boundless night, the flickering stars, and the silver moon, like we used to. These days, they did not speak to me anymore, or maybe my conscience was so overwhelmed with the profane turmoil so I could not catch or hear the omens.

It was midnight, I went home with all the slackness like a lonely captain amid the sea of nowhere who loses his compass, and crews. 

I closed my eyes, and soon flew to a place in which I was like in a glass unable to do anything, but see, smell, and hear everything vaguely. Suddenly, the smooth wind came and whispered to my ears "now you can see the inevitable."

...and I was waken up by the gold sunshine from the gap of my curtain.

The Snowflakes

As usual, I fell slowly from the majestic winter sky and scattered around on the ground, covered all the green meadow with my white blanket. By the warmth of the sunlight, I then melted into a tranquil water which flowed down every inch of the rocky slopes, be the source of life for all the living things.

I always thought that my routine life was neither happy, nor sad. It was just nothing, like the void of the dark night sky.

One day, When I fell down from the majestic sky, a little innocent girl gathered, and made me a happy snowman, she even gave me a hat and a scarf. Day by day, the little girl came and played with me who soon thought that my existence a little more meaningful than a mere scattered snowflake. I felt myself the most happiest snowflake among other ordinary snow. 

One day, there are seven delinquents came around me, some of them grinned at me, I didn't understand why were those people suddenly kicked me, pinched me, and some of them even tore my body apart with a snowboard while laughing and running to and fro.

Soon, I was scattered around on the ground, incapable of doing anything except lying helplessly down there. The little innocent girl had already made me forgot many things, one of the thing is being alone.. I forgot the feeling of scattered down, cold and having no friends.

When the little girl came, I saw her collecting every snowflakes to make a new snowman, but.. not me. The little girl did not even look at me, she raised and gathered the other snowflakes in tears and left me down here, trampled by the pedestrians. She took my hat and scarf, and gave it to her new snowman.

I have never felt this feeling before, and I cannot describe it. It is just hurt... and now, every year, I have to pass through a long frozen winter and feel this pain in every sound of ticking clock..


gmt time to est

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