Bad things have been happening in Indonesia. Last Sunday was one of the worst. A group of Ahmadiyah followers in Cikeusik Village were attacked by a large number of people. The news hit me hard and broke my heart. That is not the Indonesia I know. Who the hell are those people?
People spat out condemnation, anger, sadness, and condolences on Twitter. I did not know what to say. I didn't even know how to describe what I was feeling. It was surreal. I was speechless, sadden and well.. heartbroken. People died in that ambush. People were killed for their religious belief in the year 2011. TWO-THOUSAND-ELEVEN for God's sake!
That Sunday morning I had my usual yoga class. A class that I love so dearly. A class that always makes me come with a smile on my face no matter how many hours I slept the night before. It was a feel-good class that needs to be embraced with a smile on one's face. I could not do that though. That Sunday was too gloomy with all the news from Indonesia. My heart was still aching and I felt like crying. I didn't though. When I was sure that I couldn't empty my thoughts, be present and blissful, I opted for feeling whatever I was feeling; sad, angry, furious and then I prayed. With every pose and breath, I prayed. I effing prayed! Something that I haven't done in a long time.
The class lasted for 2,5 hours. For 2,5 hours my mind and body were focused on praying. I didn't know what I was saying in the prayer. I might not even said a single word, but my mind went to all those Ahmadiyys over and over again. My heart went to them. And to them I dedicated my Sunday morning yoga. My yoga is spiritual to me and I know that somewhere, somehow, (a) God(s) was listening to my prayer.