Busy Day, Heavy Heart
Saturday, August 30, 2025
Today was unbelievably busy. Like “I wish I had two clones and a personal butler” kind of busy.
At 8 a.m., I left for Jakarta with my husband, my mom, and my youngest. Honestly, I was a little anxious. There were rumors about protests and possible unrest. I’ve lived long enough to know how quickly small sparks can become wildfire. Still, the show had to go on. Too many appointments, too many promises already made. Canceling would only pile on more stress, and my INFJ self can’t handle breaking commitments unless the universe gives me no other choice.
By 9 a.m., two Cleansheet rangers arrived to clean the house. One worked upstairs under my husband’s supervision, while I stayed downstairs supervising the other. Since I still can’t climb stairs or walk too much, I recruited my daughter to be my “assistant on legs.” Imagine me as a general commanding troops, but instead of a sword, I had words and a teenager fetching things for me.
While that was happening, the founder of Cleansheet and his team came by to chat. They sat with me for about an hour, listening carefully to my needs about the house cleaning, and what they can offer in return. It's about time that I use their services regularly for this property, and need trusted ones to handle it. Just like I had in the last 1,5 years in my apartment.
Around the same time, my sister and her little family also dropped in. Thank goodness for my mom, who turned into the welcoming committee while I was stuck multitasking. My sister’s family needed a printer, and I happened to have one in this house. Easy solution: “Take it.” Why hold on to something that’s no longer useful to me when it can be valuable to someone else? My daughter also passed along her globe to my niece. The girl’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning. Sometimes joy doesn’t need to be manufactured; it comes from simple sharing.
Barely a beat after they left, another guest came. This time, a potential tenant surveying the house. She was warm, chatty, and trustworthy. Since she’s also a landlord, I immediately felt that unspoken bond. Her house in Pondok Indah and Kemang are under renovation, so she needs a place in between for a couple of months.
Around 1 p.m., it was time for the influencers. They came to take photos and videos for documentation. Finally, the house would be captured beyond my humble phone camera. I silently whispered, thank you, universe, for people with actual cameras and editing skills. Too bad I didn't had the chance to send them a pack of freshly baked bread homemade by the auntie next door, since she didn't bake that weekend.
By 2 p.m., everything wrapped up. We were starving. First thought: bakso. But no parking. Isn’t that just the story of Jakarta life? The food you crave is usually two blocks away from any available spot. So, while circling back toward the toll road, we spotted a random restaurant. My daughter gave her seal of approval, and in we went. The food turned out decent, and bonus: the place was crawling with cats. It felt like stumbling into an unofficial cat café.
By 4 p.m., we made it back to the apartment, utterly drained. Social batteries? Dead. I didn’t even force myself to tag along with my younger-sister to my elder-sister’s place, though it was nearby. I’ve learned the art of measuring my limits. Sometimes self-care is simply saying, “Not today.”
Then came the heavier part of the day. News started trickling in at 5:30 p.m. Looting had broken out at a politician’s home. Later, two more politicians’ homes were attacked. Each case was sparked by careless words and actions. It reminded me of the old Indonesian saying, “Mulutmu harimaumu.” Your mouth is your tiger. Words, once out, can’t be pulled back. They can soothe, but they can also wound deeply.
But here’s where I struggle: even though I understand the anger, I can’t condone anarchy. Looting, burning, destroying... it doesn’t heal anything. It only creates fresh scars. Paulo Coelho once said, “When you are faced with an opponent, conquer him with love.” It sounds idealistic, maybe even naive, but I hold on to it. Because history shows us that while anger might ignite a movement, only love and empathy sustain real change.
Lying here tonight, I realized the day mirrored life itself: a whirlwind of errands, family moments, small joys, unexpected kindness, and then... weighty news that reminds us of the fragility of society. How quickly peace can be shaken. How words can tip the balance between calm and chaos.
Maybe we can’t fix everything at once. But perhaps the work begins in the small. Guard our words. Nurture our homes. Share what we can. Choose patience when it’s easier to snap (I'm still continuously learning this too!). Refuse to let bitterness make us destructive. Sometimes the most radical act is not anger but gentleness.
The world may feel chaotic, but peace can begin in tiny corners. In a globe passed to a child, in a shared meal, in a stranger’s kindness, in cats quietly curling up at your feet. Let's be the kind of person whose presence calms storms instead of fueling them. If today’s leaders can’t model empathy, let’s choose to embody it in our own circles. Ripples may be slow, but they’re real. I'm still learning it too, let's learn it together.
May we all be drawn closer to what is good, and kept far from what is harmful. Amen.
Peace,
Nuniek Tirta
