A Balancing Act

a few months ago, i went on an accidental quest to find what others might call peace of mind.

only i call it balance.

i have achieved it, glad to say. i have been enjoying its fruits and consuming it with unquenchable thirst.

i breathe it. i thrive in it. i am happy in it BUT

i am always looking over my shoulder, careful to spot the first signs of conniving darkness. i feel its presence as if it's just a few steps behind me, ready to engulf me when i least expect it. i could end up on the bathroom floor again, exhausted, devoid of light, hoping against hope for things to be better. i know with absolute certainty, i know. i feel it lurking about...

and that alone tells me i have not fully let go.

because to live for the moment means to never have to worry. you know everything will end one day. you accept its fleetingness and its very nature compels you to savor it while you still can.

i had been under this mindset as i boarded the plane to Hong Kong last week. i would like to find a way, a formula, a guarantee in maintaining my balance and keeping worry at bay.

i searched for "enlightenment" in the monastery of 10,000 buddhas. i took the KCR east trail and got off at sha tin station, walked up the seemingly endless concrete stairs planked with various bronze statues unknown to me. I stuck out like a sore thumb -- my brown skin and almond-shaped eyes like a scarlet letter on my forehead, telling me i didn't belong there. but, with due respect, i've always believed that whether one prays to Buddha, or Allah, or God, or Yahweh, it doesn't matter. as long as one believes in something larger than oneself.

there are 10,000 buddhas housed in one temple. surely, if i keep quiet long enough, one of them would whisper its secret to me. but minutes rolled by and no light struck me. i was still the same, albeit sweaty and a little out of breath.

it is a taoist temple but perhaps it would accommodate a person of catholic beliefs. i sure hope wong tai sin is a firm believer of religious tolerance and will turn a benevolent eye on a girl searching for answers. undeterred and full of hope, i went to another temple in kowloon, the wong tai sin temple, dedicated to the great immortal wong. people visit this temple believing their prayers will be answered thru kau cim practice.

so i sat in a corner and watched.

people lit jost sticks by the altar and then walked at the back to kneel. they would shake a wooden cylinder full of sticks engraved with chinese characters until one of the sticks fall out. they would copy the engravings on a piece of paper and would go to one of the fortune tellers outside the temple. i watched..and watched...and watched hoping for a eureka moment; but still, it remained elusive.

which led me to ngong ping, face-to-face with the bodhi wishing tree...repeating over and over the one desire of my heart like a mantra, removing all thoughts from my mind, like the inconvenience of my sore feet and the sweltering heat of the sun on my back, less my wish won't get through.

surely the tree wouldn't mind that i didn't pay the astounding fee and didn't post my wish on the wall. but the bo tree kept its lips shut. it only speaks to buddha, and not to a thrifty catholic girl that goes by the name of jill.

and so, i walked up the stairs to the leshan giant buddha. but with each step i take, i was in no way nearer the answers i seek. and the only thing i found at the top was the magnificent view, which more than compensated for the trek up.

by the time i got down, it was almost 12. i heard the po lin monastery serves vegetarian meals from 11:30 till 5pm. so i shelled out $60 and found my way into the monastery.

i pictured how the lunch would go in my head! a monk, in yellow or maybe red robes, would meet me by the entrance. i would be led to a room of moderate size, painted in red and with sinographs covering the walls. it would have long tables and cushions instead of chairs. the hall would be full of people with small bowls of bounties before them, carefully bringing the chopstick to their mouth as if in deep contemplation. no one was talking; everyone in comfortable silence. 

but instead of the monk greeting me by the glass door (yup, not quite the impressive,wooden door i had in mind), a surly waiter gestured to me, as he doesn't speak english and my scarlet letter remained evident, to follow him at the middle of the room. the place was, in its truest sense, a crowded chinese restaurant bursting with activities. no red walls, no meals consumed in meditative silence, no long tables and cushioned seats.

another waiter brought a tin kettle of hot tea on my table. as i sip my tea, the absurdity of it all became apparent to me. laughing at myself, i decided to charge the whole experience to the ever increasing list of my bloopers.

i was served with an insipid soup, steamed veggies with curd sheet, shiitake mushrooms with kangkong, and spring rolls; all of which came with a caserole of rice that i barely touched. my friend warned me about monasteries serving bland dishes, but they were surprisingly flavorful, with the exception of the soup! the mushrooms and kangkong were cooked with soy sauce and ginger, making it salty and a bit spicy. the steamed veggies were still crunchy and sweet, providing a perfect contrast to the mushrooms. and the spring rolls --- ah!!! (perhaps i should explain that a week before flying to hong kong, i was at krazy garlic. the tables within my periphery had spring rolls, only i was told i couldn't have any because it has shrimps! so having spring rolls at po lin was akin to fulfilling a week-long lust.)

and despite the dining experience being far from what i expected, i truly enjoyed it. nothing extraordinary about it --- i wouldn't crave for any of the dishes the way i still crave for the herb rice i had at yoghurt house in sagada.

as i linger over the last few bites of my spring rolls, i noticed the sign at the table. darkness will permeate my core insofar as i let it.


"don't try to go and find Buddha from the spiritual hill. the spiritual hill is inside our heart. everyone has a tower of spiritual hill, so we can train and practice by ourselves."

anak ng tortang talong oo!!! all those intense walking that may potentially give me souvenir bunions and varicose veins were done for nothing?? someone must have been playing a trick on me. if he/she thinks i would have better appreciation of the answer with a full stomach and rested feet...well, he's/she's right!

maybe what i've been searching for is already inside me, untouchable by any force known to mankind. it is one thing i truly own.

maybe the thing about balance is that once you've achieved it, you could still lose it. there really are no guarantees.

you could still falter.

you could still go back to how things were.

and make wrong choices...

that makes us human, right?

but the good thing about balance is that you can always regain it. whether you keep it or lose it is a decision that relies solely on you.

that's the beauty of its design.

and having gone through it once or twice gives me the courage that, when it comes again, i could still find my way out...

heavily bruised but still kicking high!

so bring it on!

The Dancing Fever

a few weeks ago, a guy asked me what my goal is.

i raked my brain for some intelligent and remotely profound thing to say, but i couldn’t think of any…except, i want to dance. 

i couldn’t forget the look of surprise and disbelief on his face. ”to dance?” he repeated, as if his expression wasn’t enough!

i didn’t explain further. i just shrugged and said, “yes, i want to dance.” after all, how can i justify to someone what i myself couldn’t understand at that time?

my few attempts at dancing were met with much humor and creativity, mostly from my friends whom i can always rely on to keep my feet on the ground. they likened my efforts to playing “piko” and “mataya-taya” and doing a basketball interpretative dance. mind you, i was showing them a flower dance!!

but no worries, i have courage. i have enough patience to deal with them. boxing taught me how to roll with the punches (and tae kwon do taught me how to execute a really mean counter-kick. so no, they didn’t get away with those comments without a fight!)

and even when they decided to gang up against me, i counted on my meditation techniques to expel the thought of running amok and strangling the loudest of them all, no matter how incredibly tempting it was…

before we go any further, you must understand. i’ve always believed i couldn’t dance (and perhaps i am right in that belief!). i am so self-conscious! i would sway to the music but as soon as i notice anybody looking at me, i start to fumble and trip on my own feet! it’s probably one of the by-products of all those years of being considered a fat geek. and even if i shed a few pounds and had a bit of an accidental personality overhaul (from nerdy to outdoorsy), i still haven’t quite gotten over that image of myself.

anyways, these recent attacks on my goal compelled me to sit down and come up with plausible reasons why i join dance classes.

i dance because it is an art. it is a form of expression using a much harder medium to master. it is one thing to conjure words to express the despair you are in or the pure bliss you are feeling; it is quite another to command your body to convey the intricacies of such emotions. it requires control, discipline, flexibility, body coordination and above all, grace.

i dance because we owe it to ourselves to break our self-imposed limitations. hell, it could even be a means of knowing yourself! you’ll get to feel comfortable with yourself and let go of inhibitions. which works for you, which doesn’t? what kind of music do you like to dance to? which is negotiable, which is a given? which muscles and body parts do you engage at which particular instance? when you sway your hips, you have to sway it like your life depends on it. when you arch your back and then throw your head, arms and shoulders back emphasizing your chest, flaunt it even if it’s practically nonexistant. listen to the music and flow with it.

and while i understand that i do not have a natural gift for it (you won’t believe what my classmates could do! i mean, how can they just look at a step and see when to pop the shoulders or raise the correct arm with the correct leg?), i could probably get away with dancing a few styles. hip hop and i were off to a bad start, ballet and i clashed because it’s too elite and feminine, but i think jazz and i understand each other well. that goes for latin dancing,too!

i dance because i want to create a balance within me. we have in us both feminine and masculine qualities and it’s good to find the right mix. i think i veered too much on the martial arts side. don’t get me wrong — i find great relief in knowing i can defend myself should the need arises, but being described as “macho” is downright insulting and could make even the strongest women cry. i still take lessons from time to time since it’s already a part of me (and since it is better to kick the punching bag than the person sitting beside me in the office, right?) but, like what i said, we have to have that balance. happy to say, with the dance and yoga classes that i’ve been attending, i’ve improved considerably, at least in my subjective opinion.

and because, once in a while, we need to engage in something just for the sheer pleasure of doing it. honestly, the closest practical application i could think of for the pole dancing class that i’ve been taking is if i fell off a cliff during a mountain climbing escapade, i could easily hold on to a branch using my thighs, execute a fireman spin or a seated spinner, and land on my ass with glamour.

and largely because when the hour is up and i am all sweaty and breathless, i realize (quoting barbra streisand)….”it feels fucking great.”

that alone is enough of a reason. play that music and let’s groove to it!

Mt. Maculot Encore Climb

Barely 24 hours after landing in Manila from LA, I’m off to another adventure again! i’m climbing Mt. Maculot for the second time!

Mt. Maculot will remain to be one of the most memorable mountains for me. Aside from the fact that the spectacular view at the rockies is enough to make the climb worthwhile, it is, after all, the very first mountain I’ve ever climbed. I ripped my pants on my way up, rather embarrassing and unnerving, but nevertheless, less than a month later, I was climbing my second mountain to be summited. And I was hooked ever since!

During my first few climbs, when i was sweltering under the heat of the sun and hauling around a huge backpack, i used to ask, “why do i climb? why do i even bother to go out here when i could just spend a lazy day at home, couching and stuffing my face with whatever is currently available in the kitchen.” but then, I reach the summit and this view would take my breath away and it was clear: this is the reason. this is more than enough!

Fly Away Home

the US trip couldn't have happened at a more ridiculous time -- the summer was just starting and friends have all sorts of fun stuffs planned for the whole season; i was engaged with another project, which i honestly prefer rather than the one i would be taking on here in US; and i was fighting a losing battle against the inevitable process of letting go.

Aerial view of St. Louis, Missouri

when the final date of my departure was settled, i was still in denial..it was exciting, yes...but can it be postponed for even just a month? or maybe two weeks? or until i finished the other project? but the flight was on and the show must go on. off i went to the land of opportunity (sarcasm here).

the immigration officer was rude (which is expected, i guess). i almost screamed to his face "yes, i have a return ticket, yes, i have four bags and probably needs a lesson on packing light, and no, i have no intentions of running off with cowboys!! thank you very much!!"

spring was still in full swing when i arrived in St. Louis. and they were having a peculiarly wet spring, as i've been told. it's either raining and humid or raining and chilly. i didn't like it all.

Onboard the St. Louis Metrolink

i don't have a car so i had to take a cab to work (which costs a fortune, by the way!) and the bus/light rail transit on weekends (where all kinds of weirdos convene. i was asked out by a 50ish black guy, who reeks of beer and for some mysterious reasons could understand tagalog. i was scared out of my mind! i was trying to estimate his weight, deciding if my roundhouse kick would do more damage to him...or to me...serves me right for riding the bus at 11pm!)

one time, i missed my bus so i had to wait for 40 min for the next one. so there i was, standing, shivering by the bus stop, throwing an evil eye at the guy beside me eating ice cream. ice cream? seriously?

there is an outdoor swimming pool at the apartment where im staying but i wonder, is there anybody in her right mind who would actually go for a swim at 15 degrees Celsius?

at Target, Creve Coeur, St. Louis

i have to get my own grocery. yes, i usually buy my toiletries and a few items here and there for a tiny meal i would prepare back home. but here, i am forced to get everything myself --- the bread and pasta, the cleaning materials, the detergent, even the purified water. you couldn't understand what i'm griping about? imagine walking home on frigid weather with an armload of groceries and 2 gallons of water..do you get what i mean now?

and everything seems so much more expensive!! i think i have a peso-dollar converter built into my own system. it's become almost a second nature to me. i'd be in the grocery and i'd see tomatoes priced at $3/lb and i was like "potek! 150 pesos!!! wag na magkamatis! i can get my lycopene from free ketchups at the office cafeteria!!" i also put additional 6.285% as tax for food commodities and 8.925% for nonfood items.

Special thanks to google.com for teaching me how to operate the washing machine.

i have to cook, i have to learn how to separate my laundry (which could go with the whites, which needed warm water) iron and fold them. i have to clean, not just my room but the whole apartment, and take out trash every night (for which, i have devised a very good strategy: sprint across the parking lot to the dumpster and back inside the heated apartment under 30 seconds). i guess you could say i have a better appreciation of our house-help now more than ever.

i was calling home more than usual. before, when my family is going out, i'd sometimes try to beg off; but now, when i heard they were out, i felt bad. i missed them. even oreon, our dog. i would ask them to put me on speaker phone and call out oreon's name to see if he still recognizes my voice!! i know! i know! it sounds pathetic but hey, we all have our quirks, right?

and since i am vertically challenged (hehehe), everyone is towering over me! it's not a very nice feeling. i've been straining my legs for wearing heels in the office, especially since the cafeteria is a couple of buildings away.

Creve Coeur, St. Louis, Missouri

the only thing i could stand is jogging. i would run for an hour around the creve coeur pond, pass the group of nasty-looking geese ready to pounce at me if i come one step closer...round the corner where the group of indian men, women, and kids congregate...over the bridge, where 3 black men had their fishing rods ready, and then pass the middle grade couple by the park bench seemingly lost in the giddy world of young love. my favorite character is the next-door neighbor's siberian husky, who would look out of the glass sliding door and watch me stretch.

Creve Coeur, St. Louis, Missouri

but humans are such amazing creatures. they are gifted with the uncanny superpowers of adaptation. soon, i began looking forward to my afternoon run. before sunset, when the sun is just about ready to dip and the glare doesn't hurt my eyes so much, i would put on my running shoes and off i go...skirting the war freak geese, stopping to talk with the indian women and play tag with the kids...nodding a greeting to the black fishermen (whom im beginning to doubt if they ever catch anything), and then sneaking a glance at the young couple, still lost in their own world...finally stopping by the house where the siberian husky would come and stare at me through the glass door.

and then, the weather improved --- the sun began to shine but surprisingly, it doesn't hurt my skin too much. the breeze is just right...it caresses my face making me close my eyes and tilt my head upwards as if saying, "more please."

the trees bloom, standing proudly and green and alive, mocking me, daring me to try and hate them. of course, i couldn't.


the next thing i knew, i finally changed my laptop and cellphone from manila time to central time.

Forest Park, St. Louis, Missouri

St. Louis Cathedral, St. Louis, Missouri

And then, the lakwatsas began: st. louis cathedral, then forest park, then the history museum where i saw the real michaelangelo's pieta, then the art museum, muny theater, the swanky central west end...

and then, i began having rather interesting conversations with cab drivers. one owns a shipping business, one has been to europe. one is wise enough to tell me to "live now" exactly when i needed to be reminded of it.

and then, i started having private jokes with the bus drivers. "hey tom, can we go for drive-thru? i have the sudden craving for veggie burger.." for which tom would reply, "ain't nothing to worry about, short stuff. only 9 people on board goin' somewhere...'think they're in a mood for a large fry?"

and then, i began drinking iced water, walking outside wearing sleeveless and shorts, swimming almost everyday and eating lunch by the cafeteria garden.

even my height could sometimes be a plus --- im always mistaken for a student! i got to cheat time, in a way. i got asked out by a 16-year old boy while walking in forest park alone. when i told him my age, he retracted his invite, saying, "oh, you're too old for me!" I didn't know if i should laugh or shake my head in disbelief, but being a perpetual Pollyanna, i chose to see the positive side to it...i could get student discounts but since i'm USUALLY an honest person (hahaha), i set them straight.

Tivoli Theater, Delmar Loop



Botanical Garden, St. Louis, Missouri

and then, more lakwatsas --- the delmar loop, the opera theater of st. louis, the missouri botanical garden, downtown st. louis, the gateway arch, the cardinals game...

and i began to love getting my groceries at dierbergs two blocks away, where you can choose brown paper bags versus plastic bags and where store hours are until midnight (a great relief for coffee addicts/insomniacs like me





Lake Erie, Ohio



Chicago Theater District, Chicago Loop



Phoenix, Arizona

and then i'm off to cleveland, to chicago, and to phoenix --- and every time our plane would touch the lambert airport runway, i would always think, "im glad to be back, st. louis. i missed you. cleveland is just too boring, chicago is just too cold, and phoenix is just too hot...but you, my st. louis, are just right!"

Chicago River

and then i got a text message from my mom, asking "asan ka na ngayon?" for which i chose a generic, nonspecific reply ("nasa chicago na ako, mom. mas malamig dito. will call you mamya...) and not the actual, more descriptive one (alone in a big, windy city of chicago, admiring the chicago river, shivering and kicking myself for leaving my coat in the hotel, while a homeless, toothless black man hover in the distance, asking for 99 cents for a burger). the text message was a painful reminder that i missed calling home that weekend and that maybe i'm not so homesick anymore.

mind you, i'm still converting but apparently, it did nothing to stop me from buying shoes and bags and God knows what! now, im about to return half of the things i bought because no way could i take them home without paying an extra $150 for over-baggage fee.

It is hard not to like this city precisely because it just embraces you and takes you in like his own. the people are great. in downtown chicago, i was almost run over by a lady in a motorized wheelchair while waiting for the pedestrian signal! but people in st. louis would smile and ask "how are you doin'?" they don't hover and are really mindful about personal space, at least the ones i've met so far and with the exception of the bus weirdos who still give me the creeps. It is a city that was able to merge the greens and the buildings, progress and convention...

Aerial view of my flight to LA

everything happens for a reason. i may not like it when it happens but things unravel as they should be. i have lost some, but i also gained a lot. and more than ever, i appreciate manila. with all it's faults and troubles, it is home. st. louis is a nice, long break, a test, an eye-opener for someone who has a tendency to hide behind rose-colored glasses, a great shopping place, a fun learning experience, a taste of independence...indeed, the land of opportunity to finally realize ---

i am strong. and i did it. now, i'm ready to go home. ( i mean, after my LA trip, i'm ready to go home...)

The Red-Shoed Dorothy in the Land of Oz

After I recovered from the catatonic phase that Will Schuester's version of "Over the Rainbow" in Glee's season finale brought about, it occurred to me that this whole US trip thing is like the story of Wizard of Oz!

Iwas like Dorothy who was dreaming of a place over the rainbow and got sucked into a whirlwind/tornado-like adventure, finally landing in the land of Oz (or better known as the land of America).

I didn't put on any silver slippers (or ruby slippers, depending on which version you followed) but I had been really crazy about the marked-down red Franco Sarto shoes I got.

There is no Wicked Witch of the East nor Good Witch of the South and I didn't meet a Scarecrow looking for a brain, a Tin Man looking for a heart, and a Cowardly Lion looking for courage.

But while in Cleveland, I got to meet with one of the top guys handling one of our divisions. The supposedly 2-hour meeting stretched for the whole day, where we actually spoke the same language and the discussion felt like a real exchange of ideas, a discourse, even at times, a debate, and where I ultimately earned his respect (and the right to wear their company shirt...).

And while in Arizona, I got to see the most stunning skyline. Mountains jutting out of the plains, forming silhouettes in bluish purple horizon. The great outdoors is really where my heart is.

And while in Chicago, I got to explore the city by myself, braving the subway and the crazed pedestrians, the chill of the wind blowing over the Chicago River and the glass-floored ledge at Willis Tower.

Cleveland, Arizona, Chicago --- the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion in my story showing me that I have the Brains, the Heart, and the Courage in me all along.

One more stop: LA (or the Emerald City, if we follow the storyline?). One final detour before this Dorothy taps her red shoes together and say, "there's no place like home. there's no place like home. there's no place like home..."

One more leg until she wakes up (from an incredibly long flight) back in Manila...

jet lagged but otherwise ready for more adventures. ^_^

Cape Bolinao Lighthouse

Cape Bolinao Lighthouse --- i think this is the first lighthouse I've ever seen for real! And look at the sky! It's just the perfect background for the imposing structure!

My imagination was running wild as I walk around the lighthouse ---

the rustic sign, the silent witness to years and years of stories.

the dilapidated house that sits just few meters from the lighthouse, the secret hiding place of lover's trysts.

the setting sun that illuminates the wooden balusters, a romantic view that steal anyone's breath.

and a group of friends --- happily posing for the camera and disturbing the moment's peace and emo ambiance! teehee!

be sure to drop by when you're in the area. it's definitely worth the uphill drive.

Details:

Cape Bolinao Lighthouse

Punta Piedra Point, Patar,

Bolinao, Pangasinan

(351 feet above sea level and built by Americans in 1903, the lighthouse is still operational and sends signals to vessels in the area.)

ice skating again

There was a time when rollerblading and ice skating pretty much dominated my life. I was in Grade 3 when I first saw the Cutting Edge and the Mighty Ducks I. After that, I would put on my rollerblades right after the school service deposited me at home, race and jump and do all sorts of exhibitions and bug my cousin until he's forced to lend me his hockey stick. I was so convinced that I would be a figure skater drafted to play for a hockey team someday!! But alas, just like most of our childish dreams, we tend to lose them in the process of growing up.

It was quite a surprise for me to go back after more than 10 years and find how smooth the ice felt when the blade of my skates made the initial contact with thin ice; how hard it was for my ankles to fight the propensity to slip; how necessary it was to coordinate my upper body with the lower so I won't land on my hiney... After getting over my initial terror, I began to gain confidence in my stride, skate backwards albeit wobbly, and really enjoy the chill. Ultimately, I realized I still have the same problem -- I still don't know how to break. But I'll work on it...(",)

After a while, I even started teaching my friends to ice skate!

To actually feel the rush of chilly wind on my face as I skate around the rink on top speed --- arrgggghhhh!!!! Why did I ever stay away from the rink too long?

On Climbing Boulders, Swimming with Whale Sharks, and Forging new Friendships

A respected mentor once told me that if I have to choose between travelling and acquiring new things, I should choose travelling. For her, there is a number of learning one would get from travelling that it is just a waste to buy gadgets or clothes or, in my case, books. Being a nerd, I vehemently disagreed with her. I was the kind of person who wins the Certified Bookworm Award. (Mind you, such award exists in my previous job, given to the employee who has read the most number of required readings. So nerdy, isn’t it?) I argued that one must invest in oneself and reading is a proactive way of preparing oneself with enough ammunition to face the world. Literacy levels are declining and we must fight it with all our might! hehe!

My friends would come to me for advice, and like a doctor, I’d whip out my book inventory (in excel file complete with pivot tables, drop down lists, and ratio of read vs. unread) and select which book to recommend, as if reading the book would actually solve their problem.

Don’t get me wrong. I also love to travel - I even go on backpacking trips with my close friend but suffice to say that I have been to more places this last 2 months than in the past 2 years. And from what I have seen, it made me wonder if writers can inspire such awe in me if I were reading about it as opposed to experiencing it for myself. What words should a writer use to marvel at the beauty of the world and properly convey the brilliance of its Creator?

Like how would a writer describe in a book the experience of swimming with the whale sharks in Donsol? What would she write to conjure in the reader’s head the exact feeling of being near enough to touch the whale sharks but choosing not to because you wanted to respect their space and your presence might drive them away?


Or of seeing a whale shark’s eye move towards you as you swim beside him? It seemed as if for a brief moment you were eye to eye. You were so amazed that you gasped and quite naturally, water filled your mouth. You had to lift your head off the water and cough. When you dipped your head again, he was farther ahead – you weren’t able to catch up anymore.

Or the thrill of your first jump into the open sea without a life vest on? You were debating whether to go back up the boat or race after the whale shark. The fins felt so heavy that you wanted to kick them off but realized that if you relaxed, you could swim faster.

Or of swimming above the whale shark and slowing down so you would see his entire length? All the time you were thinking how suave he swims, how quietly he cuts through the water, how big his mouth is that you could almost fit! You are enticed with the prospect of quitting your job and devoting your life to keeping them safe, but for practicality reasons, you had to drag yourself back to work come Monday.

Or of the sound of the boat’s engine slicing through the silence of the night in Donsol river; the moon and the fireflies your only illumination? You wanted to cup a firefly in your hand but was afraid to kill it.

 Or of going to a cove in Zambales that doesn’t have the distractions of electricity and technology… and for which you would have to rely on the stars, the sand, the trees, the wind, the water on your feet, the mountain, the rocks to be entertained? With the night sky as your roof, you forged precious moments with new friends that less than a month later you were all off again on your next trip, as if you know each other for years.

Or of trekking up the mountain and grasping anything you can grasp to prevent skidding? You were trying very hard not to demand for more water breaks because doing so would prolong your wait to see the summit. Or of feeling the wind on your face when you finally reached the clearing, as if you too have wings? Or of climbing boulders to reach the Rockies knowing full well that one wrong step and you might end up swimming with the shrimps in Taal Lake? On your way up you readily gave your full confidence to the Lead Man. He knows where he’s going and if you’d only follow him, he’d lead you to a place where the view is more than enough to compensate for your aching muscles and your ripped pants that provided a different kind of view, much to your humiliation.

Yes, you fall down, you had scrapes on your knees and cuts all over your legs but you stand up determined to do better on your next climb because really, that’s what life is all about, right? You stumble and fall but you still get up and trust that your friends are there to cheer you on as you reach the top.

The point is we are racing against time. Things change. People grow up. Circumstance might force you to move abroad or have different priorities. My grandfather, my oldest and “bestest” friend ever, is battling with cancer and he made me realize that life is so volatile that I just can’t afford to spend every lazy weekend within my comfort zone. A day might come when the whale sharks would leave Donsol or the cove would have electricity making it impossible to see the stars at night and the only view you would see up Mt. Maculot are the vandals all over the rocks. Maybe by then, books and imagination would surpass the actual experience.

Sometimes where you are heading takes a backseat to the process of getting there. And when you come back, you are never the same person. The same can be said in reading a book. It can change you. But reading a book is a solitary activity; while travelling – well, isn’t more fun to find your mailbox flooded with silly, ordinary things from your new friends?

3/27/09

(post note: 2 days after writing this, my granddad passed away. Eternal rest be granted unto him, O Lord...)