Serendipity

In AIT, one of the first things a student has to have is a decent pair of bicycle. No one told me I have to learn a new skill before coming here, so I came totally unprepared. Walking was fine in my first months as my dorm was some five minutes away from my department, and at night, it is convenient and safe to walk around. . Then I met a nice guy in my first month here and knowing that I needed a bike, gifted me with a cute, small orange bike. I was elated but the task of learning it was daunting. They say that it’s never too late for "old dogs" to learn new tricks. I did try practicing for a few hours and stopped trying altogether for a long time. When i changed my dorm a semester later and moved into the "suburban" section of AIT, then walking became a chore, a dread especially in mid-day heat. Everytime friends see me walking, I get naughty smiles  and chides whenever they learn that I still am bike-illiterate.

Nearly a year after my first bike practice and after my "bike driver" has since left after his graduation that I started picking pieces of my life on my own here. I consciously decided to not use the small bike, although I keep it in sight for sentimental reasons, and took his big bike. It would be quite a challenge to maneuver it, but I was determined to try, to ride free and fast, to be independent… I took the bike for a repair, had it oiled, changed the brakes, lowered the seat and replaced it with a softer and green colored one. On the same day, I placed my right foot on the semi-raised pedal, remembering how I did it the last time, and carefully putting my other foot on the lowered pedal. I was able to go far, but not without some bumps. My heart would just skip a beat whenever a see a hump or a curve in the next corner. I did two rounds of the campus oval on my first try. On the second night, my pedaling was more consistent, but my handle still a bit unsteady. I would still skid, swerve, and stop midway when I anticipate some hurdles ahead. But the day after that, I thought I was ready for my first "flight" into the outside world, where people walk the streets and cars and other bikes pass by. I was naturally nervous, but at least I have to try. I did not take the main road on my way to the Department, and I landed safely (thank God)…

Last night, while in deep thought and in tears, I rode my way throughout the campus. The air was cool, and still fresh of the smell of grass and the rain. It was riding fast, steady, somehow lost in thoughts, and without warning, I skidded and was somewhat thrown off to the side. I had scratches all over my skin, but still I got up, and pedaled home. I realized how much biking is similar to love…

Some lessons in both love and biking:

Stage 1: Watching your steps - When you’re starting to bike, you become too conscious of your steps. Am I putting my feet where they should be? Is the pedal fine? Will I get my balance? As in love, both partners become too self-conscious about whether they are starting on the "right foot", probably because of the uncertainty and the excitement of starting a new stage with someone special

Stage 2:- Balancing your act - As you begin to pedal and balance, you swerve to the side, putting on the brakes too fast or prematurely when you feel you are going to fall or when you are unsure of your pace. Sometimes, you actually do fall because you keep thinking you will. At this stage in a love relationship, some of the self-consciousness has dropped down a bit, and you’re feeling your way through your own feelings, and your partner’s. Both partners can be too full of each other that one party may put on the brakes, while the other charges ahead, and vice-versa.

Stage 3: Pacing - After acquiring balance and control of both your body and the pedal, it is time to ride through humps and bumps, the normal roads if possible, small streets.. This is an exciting time when you have become ‘more confident’, you look towards the road ahead, not on your feet; your hands are not as tense, you sort of know when to pull on the brakes, and where and when to approach the bumps. This is a time when you feel free and enjoy the rush of the wind. There are still challenges like getting past the narrow lane between AIT’s ponds (don’t want to get soaked!) but I am slowly managing that course. In love, it is these times in the relationship when you both have a good sense of each other, what you want, the "gravity" and meaning of the relationship, and building memories and activities that are unique to the two of you. You enjoy the ride, the together. Everyday, there are things to discover - both good and bad - the "side streets" of each other’s character. But this time, you don’t abruptly turn yourself away; you face the challenge as it comes; you don’t clam up when there are changes in your partner.

Stage 4: Adjusting, shifting gears – Now that you have mastered the basic skills and you are familiar with your directions, you now know what makes you comfortable, when and in what manner, what will make you happy, when to stop and rest. In a relationship, a couple decides on some fundamental issues like the direction of the relationship, how far both will and can take it, whether you see your partner in the long-term. At this time also, you both have devised your coping strategies. You’re both changing everyday. Sometimes, the emotions can be so high, at times, down and low. Then, you both take turns in steering things – to take it slow, ride it fast, plan ahead, or just ride your way through without reference to the future.

Stage 5: Resting place/Letting Go – A bike, like all other machines, need its own “nesting and resting” place. Some days, you have to oil it, rest it for a while, dress it up, and check it for repairs. Maybe the seat is worn out, or the brake is tough to handle, or simply, you need to give your bike away. This stage is the make or break deal of the relationship. Having been with someone for sometime and having been more enlightened about each other, hard work and commitment come in more urgently as the relationship needs all the help it can get – reworking, “oiling”, and understanding, planning for the future. Otherwise, if it’s too broken to be fixed, the hardest part is coming to a point when you have to let go.

Bu then again, while riding a bike is a skill with its own thrills to impart, love is unique and meaningful and being successful at it consists not of avoiding the bumps but facing them head on, standing every time you fall, and taking each other’s hand when both are tired from the journey. It is easy to give up a bike when it has served its usefulness; with love, the most difficult part is knowing when to stop and to give up. It’s maddening at times, but the experience of loving is very soulful and intimate for those who have truly loved at least once.

For now, I am enjoying my flight, nursing my bruises, but often finding myself smiling at this new found lithe. Each time I ride my bike, I am reunited with myself, the wind and the man who owns this.

(with apologies to singer Joey Albert)

Since my affinity with this man revolves around conversations and writing, I cannot think of a better gift than my own words. It has been 15 years since we met in Baesa, a place that is situated beside a cemetery park and surrounded by a solid Adventist community, as wide-eyed, competitive first year high school students. He wore a kind of optimism and determination that not many youngsters in my batch had. In a way, he was typical, yet no so typical.

He was what one would regard as a well-rounded student. He was the choir tenor, the little church deacon and a math and science enthusiast. He also had the privilege of shouting at the top of his voice during CAT. I did not quite occur to me, though, that he had the makings of an athlete. Life in Baesa was very modest. Our lives centered on school, close friends and Sabbath activities. Together with close friends, we would relish going around churches, singing our hearts out, debating, walking around Eternal Gardens and lingering until the sun faded from view. As the official batch dissenter, I would occasionally come to a head with him on things as simple as playing scrabble. I think it was during my second and third years while I was undergoing my own intellectual transformation and he with academics and a budding love affair that we grew up to the realities of life.

Somehow, our own dreams started taking shape towards senior year, especially with the preoccupation with college entrance exams and choice of college course. We even exchanged SAT reviewers (I got the thicker US version SAT and he took the locally printed one!) Who would not forget those obligatory “what I want to become” that is definitely yearbook material. I remember saying I wanted to be the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. I did not know what he said about his destiny, but whatever it was, he must have fulfilled in it some way. 

College was a different ball game – new friends, new environment, and new ways of seeing the world. At first, the separation anxiety was there as we would constantly meet during weekends but we soon had to give in to the demands of our new life. 

He left in 1997 for the United States to partake of the American dream. We were out of touch during the first 2 or 3 years as I had my own life battles to fight at that time. In 2000, he managed to get my e-mail (thank God for the email) and our correspondence has continued from then on.  I know he had his share of struggles at the beginning. In a 2001 email, he wrote: “I feel like a ghost; sometimes present, sometimes not.” But being the determined and goal-oriented being that he is, he had his hands full in time. He entered the navy, attended UC San Diego as an engineering student and attended to his sisters, who followed soon after he left. When I was in Japan in 2001, we managed to talk quite extensively. At that time, he was distressed about the death of his very close friend, Harry. He asked me to write a short eulogy for him. Year after year, we would have some important collaboration going on. After a brief correspondence hiatus, which resumed in late 2004, I learned that he has since graduated from university and is now working as an engineer. His mom is now in the US with them.

As he makes his rounds as an aerospace engineer; as he shuttles within and between Europe and North America; and enjoys the rewards of painstaking work, I know that this man has really taken flight and embraced the journey of life. As for me, I would gladly share a cup of coffee with him in Paris or a cruise dinner set up in, to borrow his words, a teakwood rice barge by the Chao Praya River.

Author’s note: Name of the person described herein deliberately omitted. He will immediately identify himself when he reads the text. The author tried to be succinct and at the same time accurate with the remembrance of details.

Rare are the days when words flow like honey; when inspiration comes deep into the night while the rest of the world sleeps. I remember a few years back when in my moments of despair, I can easily turn inwards and translate the deepest recesses of my heart into words.. Words that reflect the rage i was feeling at the time, the sense of vengeance and its subsiding..

I think of myself as an accidental writer or it could be that i was in search of the writer that I should or can be. Writing in high school was tokenism - there was little that could pique my drive for politics, self-questioning and room for doubts for everything familiar, including religion. Well, that’s behind me. Maybe it’s that sense of "want" that led to more journeys into my inner self.

1998: I rediscovered the so-called writer in me en route to school aboard a bus, deep in thought in a four-hour ride to school. I was teetering towards a near-impoverished state, with only my resourcefulness and resolve on hand. I guess necessity, not to mention "poverty", has a way of bringing close to their center in whatever sense. Ok, it sounds too good to be true but it was in that long yet seemingly quiet solace of an airconditioned bus that i found myself writing in such an honest and sincere fashion. Everyone else around me faded into the background. By the time, i reached school i knew i had come across Serendipity.

It was and still is a wonderful journey - writing has been a faithful companion through out these years. Like a lover who keeps your senses alive. A friend you can just talk to and who would care to listen and "commisserate" with you. A cheerleader who gives you the thumbs-up when you get work done or when you’re near the GOAL. (And no, it’s not schizophrenia..)

I never thought I would live off as a writer - it just was not part of the standard range of professional choices in the community i grew up in. But that’s another story altogether. Of course, it’s another thing to be a writer’s writer - one that requires real talent, a lot of introspective brush with life, and passion.

Part of my nightly musings years back is a poem (or attempt at poetry) entitled, "Spaces".* It does not matter how it fares in the metes of poetry but it remains to be one of my reflective statements.

Even while words elude me at night, I still park my pen even it means a "writer’s block" for an hour or so. Because if the words don’t come to me, i will find them. 

* see subsequent post