Under The Stars

For a time, I thought that being a moderate is the best way to get the best of the world. This basically meant I would not be crazy enough to try out new things and end up crashing. The first time I ignored falling was when I learned to ride a bike. I did learn how to, and was even able to stand with one foot on the saddle and another one on the stem. I could neither remember how I did nor how I got the courage to, but I did and not without eating dust and grass, and my knees smiling in the process , as my father would say. Smiling with blood, that is. The cuts were deep, and I was glad nobody thought I needed stitches. 

The second time was when I defied the odds and rode the ship to Luzon to study. This was not totally an awful decision considering that I made some friends, learned a little about vanishing points and the logical positivists, and cursed vernier calipers and burettes for good. I was not warned I would be starving for the most parts and sometimes sleeping under a tree for the night. I pulled through, but I forgot what it was for. When I finally got that piece of paper that said it was over, it felt like I had gone too much trouble for such a small thing.

When one lets the adrenaline be the primary driver, it usually ends badly. Things have to be calculated carefully to ensure success. This became my motto for decades. It would be reckless to face a challenge in spite of or without thinking. This period in my life can be comparable to a leaf falling ever so slowly, careful not to make a sound, and landing on ground without so much as displacing a speck. I stayed home and was content with flicks and books that told of solitude and the lightness of being. I became a spectator. I had become very far from the kid that learned to ride a bike and that scrawny and pimply teenager that set out for university to make dreams come true. I had kept the balance. I kept my center by being in the middle.

Then, I got bored. I realized that I needed to aspire for something no matter how small. So, I packed my bag and decided to hike. For what is the point of being safe when there is that one inevitable truth that stares at me in the face. Some day, I will wither and die, and being safe is not going to change that. I may crash and burn doing the things that thrill, but at least I could say that I am living. There are those around that did not faze and achieved great things. There are those that failed, and failed many times, but never tire of still pursuing whatever. Once again, that sounded exciting. 

I got scratches and blisters on that mountain hike, but I realized that if I wanted to live a life that matters, I need to have smiling knees and sleep under the tree, under the stars.