In this hermitage lives Begawan Swandagni and his wife, Dewi Sokawati. They live in a beautiful hut with a thatched roof of palm leaves, arranged like stairs for the morning dew.
By
Sindhunata
·4 minutes read
DOKUMEN SUSILO BUDI
Susilo Budi\'s painting, "Tiwikromo", is an illustration of Sindhunata\'s Anak Bajang Swinging Moon.
Jatisrana hermitage is a beautiful place on the slopes of Mount Jatimuka. The wind comes down from the mountain, whispering as a soft breeze. Its whispering rustle is the rhythm that maintains that peace and tranquility at Jatisrana hermitage. Shady trees grow around it, providing calm that adds to the hermitage’s serenity. The kariwara and kenanga plants are neatly arranged. The beautiful flowers bloom between the gaps in the leaves that dance in the mountain breeze. Further inside is a fountain with very clear water. Water falls from the bamboo bath into the fountain, splashing in a rhythm that makes the fish swim to and fro happily. Behind the hermitage is a rice field that stretches like a green carpet to the foot of Mount Jatimuka.
In this hermitage lives Begawan Swandagni and his wife, Dewi Sokawati. They live in a beautiful hut with a thatched roof of palm leaves, arranged like stairs for the morning dew. The courtyard is overgrown with ivory coconut trees. In one corner are bana and campaka plants. The modest hut smells sweetly, when the bana and campaka flowers are in full bloom. The fragrant smell around the hermitage grows stronger with the incense lit almost non-stop to accompany Begawan Swandagni\'s meditation.
Begawan Swandagni is a holy priest who spends his days in meditation. Meditation has become such a part of him that he has nearly stopped thinking about his life. Like fire, his meditation burns through the whole body and stirs his feelings so he dissolves in the worship without realizing. Every morning, when darkness still rules, he wakes to meditation. And his meditation wakes the flowers, which open their petals in a hurry, as if decorating themselves to meet the coming of the sun. The birds are also awakened by the meditation to sing a song about the sunlight dancing on the green foliage of the trees at Jatisrana hermitage.
KOMPAS/HARIS FIRDAUS
Visitors see a collection of works of art displayed at the Bajang Children\'s Museum, Sleman Regency, Yogyakarta Special Region, on the sidelines of the museum\'s inauguration, Monday (27/9/2021).
The days of Begawan Swandagni and Dewi Sokawati pass happily and peacefully. Nature has given them everything they need. Do they need to ask for anything else? Nature has also taught them to be satisfied with what they receive. Do they still need to look for what is not their share? When the jangga plants spread across the roof of their hut, and their flowers produce the fragrance of love, must they still look for something more beautiful? There is no longer any desire that grips them. Moreover, when Begawan Swandagni goes into deep meditation, he longs for nothing more except to return to the eternal realm. They are no longer sad. The only sadness is why they have not been blessed with any offspring.
These words are repeated almost every time the sun is about to leave the earth to leave behind twilight for the rest of the day.
"Sokawati, my wife, dusk is waiting for us. And the dimmer the twilight, the more we sink into darkness without any hope. I\'ve been waiting for so long, we haven\'t had a baby yet. What is the reason for Sang Hyang Agung not to give us what we desire?" said Begawan Swandagni. These words are repeated almost every time the sun is about to leave the earth to leave behind twilight for the rest of the day.
"Begawan, my womb is a vessel that is never filled. My breasts are dry because no baby has ever come to suckle the milk. What\'s the point of me being destined to be a woman if I can\'t give you children? My womanhood that is supposed to be fertile has become dry. My femininity is like a barren land. The womanhood that I should be proud of seems to have become a punishment that tortures me endlessly," said Dewi Sokawati.
Imagine how beautiful it would be if she could hold her child in the moonlight, take the child to the flower garden and pick the kanigara flowers, whose leaves are yellowing, then throw the flowers as an umbrella that scatters across the sky, beautifully illuminated by moonlight. Her child laughs, and Sokawati imagines how her child would fly from umbrella to umbrella of the kanigara flowers. Around them, the jering trees creak in the wind like a flute, whose melodious voice makes the moon jump for joy, rolling around in the blanket of clouds that have turned white.
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