The weather was rather rough. The wind had settled.
I walked to the south, suffered nauseating wind blows and gravity force. This is open savanah, Man!
Reaching the peak of Mount Arjuno two hours behind, I comtemplated this way with my usual serenity.
I kept on my trekking with only one-two heavy breathing. Gasping and insane. Forgot to lay to for a minute.
I had no nerves, neither impatient nor annoyed of pain. This is mountain, Man!
The storm began, blew not satisfaction thing. It fired my spirit exulted with exceeding great joy.
True I was a little mountain sickness, but what did that matter. While my body writhed in the grip of trekking poles, I went through this trying time.
Highland and sky had hitherto seemed to be my God. I was ready to scourage the rebellious mountain.
The top was very simple, stratovolcano with pyramid looks like a Gothic cathedral.
My hands in my cargo pockets, I threw trekking poles, standing with great pain and shouted loud, "Where are you!"
Passing my hands over my forehead, I remained thinking a while, whereupon in my scary voice I said, "What am I to do, God? Is it right?"
Doubtless the answer never knew, on hearing a whistle, I went up again on my trek. Guided through Pasar Setan, open and blank area before the peak.
"Hi!" I greet with all my pardon.
"Hello!" she answered clearly.
Circumstance suddenly weighing and arranging the equilibrium without offering any resistance, muttered.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" She laughed, beaming with scary satisfaction. She could never have explained why laughed.
"My turn!" I said. "Ha! Ha! Ha! I laughed too. Then, the two of us laughing together. Not preceded by self introduction.
"There is no need self introduction, boy!" She said and sat down on ground of Pasar Setan.
"You can laugh as much as you like!" she continued while tiding up her dirty and messy veil.
So saying, she eagerly took oxigen tube in her bag and setting up the breathing apparatus to her sexy mouth.
She struck the altitude of Pasar Setan Highland and trying to imitate nuclear war soldier breathing gears.
"There is no radioactive here, girl!" I said with soaking voice of curious.
"You must know your exact description, watch correctly, and I will answer for it," she answered beautifully eyes rolling.
The dawn was coming down. Pasar Setan would be in dark. I had make a bonfire in front of her.
I would bring in the wood logs and make the fire.
I showed her how to position the logs together just right, so the fire would burn strong and last for a long time.
She was still busy with pig-nosed apparatus and its tubing. I resumed my uncomfortable seeing, stop observed her blue eyes.
Seemed to be variety scenery that passed before her blue eyes: savanah, mountains standing out on the horizon, lakes with their seething, blinking water.
I never forced to imagine the erotic and sexy one, especially her half nice opened neck.
The wind was now bearing to her face. To avoid her gas masker, the wind was necessary to seek another open current, such as her preety forehead and a half of her soft cheeks.
She could clearly distinguish the amazed face of inhabitants, a fairly pretty race of yellowish-brown complexion. Ehm...
"You supposed me from southern extremity world of Nyi Roro?" She started to intimidate me.
The woodfire, bonfire, fire, bristling with thorny tongue of flames. Sounded and tangled creepers.
She had some difficulty in holding his tube with clear writing on it, "work 4 H2O".
Numerous water were drunk, but how about her with masker gas handycapping? Could I offer her water?
Should I prepare a superb of supper banquet for her? Who is the host? Who is the guest? Me or her?
This is Pasar Setan territory! None should be as landlord or landlady!
Who is the God, what is kinds of religion, mahdzab, sextan, who are you, no matter....
The only piece of art in Pasar Setan Highland that seemed to have added was a large of awareness, as same as a large calligraphed quote hanging over the sky.
Haunted and creepy as same as this quote:
"God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murders?
But, me and her not as Nietzsche students. I don't know where does she come from. So, I insisted that the God is still life.....
If Nietzsche tried wrote three famous words , "God is dead", I also tried freely wrote unfamous three words, "God is life".
"Will you support me?" I asked her.
"What?" She answered with unclear sound caused of gas masker barrier.
"Err..... forget it!" I realized that just in my mind.
It is not transactional conversational. I had it in my mind as monologue, "huff!"
I already have hacked Nietzsche quote, it has been dangerous secrets, as dark as this highland.
"I will take care of it," she said while arranging wood, the flames of fire were bothered, sparkling and giving heavy fumigation.
She tried kneeling with heavy gears, the hose of gas tube merely near the fire. But it is safe, I predicted.
I dont know what kinds of gases in her gas tube.
"Do you have any idea what would inspire Khidir to find fountain water? She suddenly asked.
Her question was lethal. I socked. "It's a pleasant story!" I jumped into air. She laughed. But I couldn't see her laughs, cause her masked way.
But I knew it from her eyes, shut and open with beautiful blinking and winking.
Over her eyes, I advocated rationality over blind faith. It had sprung up as notification in my gadget.
It is not God delusion, it is real. Portable eyes contact. Letter to love. The end of war's faith.
No religion infects our laughs, our jumps. It is pure and natural.
She started story telling about Khidir. She released her masker freely.
I saw a beautiful palatal and dental with great movement, flowing with her story telling.
There is no disgraced and fearful. I feel confortable with her way of story telling.
"Khidir not much teach about godlesness or has problem with agnostics nor atheist than teaching about love," she explained with slow motion of verbatim.
I understood it by my own interpretation, such as the roads to salvation are many. Forgiveness and merciful are not the only way.
The night clawed its way up at Pasar Setan highland. I surveyed the bold peak of Arjuno, Ogal-Agil. Named by the position of the rock in unstability.
I knew me and her feeling chemical addiction of chemistry.
Natural heroin was cheaper in this time, me and her were popping opioid of painkillers of this fatigue hiking.
Libertarism and awareness were as ibuprofen, addiction would certainly explain her smile and way of talks.
I walked to another side of bonfire and pick up my bandana, spread it down in the cold ground of Pasar Setan highland, ready for some of prayers.
I couldn't had been pretending as atheist nor agnostics cause of her face, not cause of my beloved and mighty God.
She frozed and felt a sudden wave of dread when I started my first level prayer. In my unfocused prayer, I think about what kinds of gases in her tube.
Suddenly, I saw a shadow of tall man accompanying her, wearing formal white clothes.
She stepped back and checked my position, just a couples of metres from my frozen standing.
"The lord works in mysterious way," The shadow of tall man said to her. She just nodded her veiled head.
"Forget your home address, and you need never think of me again?" The shadow of tall man continued asking.
She stared straight ahead, her lips quivering, "Forgive me, you are a man of the faith."
I saw his face at glance, sparkling and neat. I loaded my self with a tons of prayer, caused of afraid, huff.
"No matter what you think of me, you are free and find peace in knowing about love," The shadow of tall man said with clear explanation.
The shadow of tall man walked to me and give his palm.
I navigated myself in the dark corridor between agnostics and atheist. Standing between hidden history and extreme religion.
The sound of walking footsteps echoed enough, the shadow of tall man said, "
Dieu et mon droit, don't worry, I lwill let you with his guidance." His finger pointed to me.
For second time I was shocked about "guidance". How can I give the guidance?
It is not about guidance how to travel in the jungle or hike the mountain.
It is about the girl dressed with strange veil, nuclear breathing apparatus and unknown gases in her tube.
What kinds of guidance would be served for her?
In his darkened exitway, the crouched silhouette remained motionless for five seconds before gone. Second later, the girl was shouted, "Boy!"
"Khum Ishiq, ye Ogal-Agil," I answered.
"What's that, boy?" She replied.
"Let me show you," I responed.
This night hadn't once been life's quit moments of solitary reflection.
Now everything bearable and breathable. Touching boundless love existed in the world.
We started deep walking, stared down into last valley to the peak of Mount Arjuno.
I felt the circumstances suddenly quiet. We stepped over the rough threshold into the cool night air.
"Once you reach the peak," my voice commanded. A light of eastern scattered across the sky.
We didn't have time to ask each other. Nonetheless, she hoped it would be the key to know the meaning of "khum ishiq, Ye Ogal-Agil".
She has taken the liberty of feeling and sending her own love. She had just given the last performance of her lifetime.
She killed all motionless, unable to wait the meaning of "khum ishiq, Ye Ogal-Agil".
She forced herself to get rid of a couple of step to reach the peak of Mount Arjuno.
Suddenly with deep exhaled breathing and began pulling in deep resistance for gravity force.
What kinds of surrender she is? Liberalism? Distorsing hundreds of faith into wrapped hybrid of tons prayer and worships. Pseudoscience or gnostic heresy?
Finally, she logged onto peak area, fully anticipating of windblows into her dress. Pitifully she didn't good body balance, dropped into my chest.
"What is khum ishiq, ye Ogal-Agil, boy?" She was in her begging of pardon.
"There exist a powerful hierarchy in my chest that is invisible to the world," I replied.
"What is that?" She asked.
"I believed you would be an asset at the top of my hierarchy," I explained.
I started to shout everothing as a flood of unsettling ideas of materialism such as who is she, where does she come from, what kinds of gases in her tube, her name, her religion, her race and other claim of perception!
"What is khum ishiq, ye Ogal-Agil, boy?" She asked again.
"There is no new religion provide fresh answer for that question, girl!" I replied gently.