Lavender Sniffers

Travels with Epicurus
Daniel Klein
Penguin Paperback, 164 pages

"It is not the young man who should be considered fortunate but the old man who has lived well, because the young man in his prime wanders much by chance, vacillating in his beliefs, while the old man has docked in the harbor, having safeguarded his true happiness." -Epicurus

"Not what we have, but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance." -Epicurus 

He's at the best seat in the terrace of Greek taverna in Hydra. He's friends with the owner, he takes an olive-wood cane whenever he goes. In his ear is a sprig of lavender that he "with considerable effort" picked up on the way. He sniffs the lavender during lulls in his conversation.

I already got my money's worth with the opening quote and first paragraph. I scored this one from an online store, pre-loved and with the condition it's in, either the previous owner never read it or she takes care of her books with an admirable meticulousness.

Klein writes that this is his personal quest to figure out the best way to live this stage of his life. Perhaps it's his subtle way of saying, I'm having such an awesome time in my seventies. I thoroughly enjoyed reading a travel book that is garnished with some Philosophy. I'd probably never travel to Hydra, so this experience is in a way, transcendental.

It was though-provoking enough to have me re-think my own college thesis. I should have done something along the lines of "Travelling with Nietzsche in Manila." An exposition of Nietzschean themes in a Philippine setting. Rizal vs Bonifacio as the Ubermensch, the herd mentality of religions in my country, the Will to Power in Philippine politics. But I have no such yearnings of writing that now. No one would read it. If I were in college, my adviser would at least be required to read it.

I'm not an old man, I'm not even certain that I will be, but I do have a few joys docked in my harbor. Reading this book, feeling like an old man sometimes, never have I loved life so much more.

To really mean it

to have lost or to have long-forgotten my existential dread
to have a family. to spend a significant amount of time with your family.
to have loved you
to have friends you won't often need, and won't often need you.
to sleep soundly at night.
to have an occupation that nurtures a good heart, that genuinely connects you to people
to (occasionally) drink and be merry
to (even if I'm gaining weight), keep running
to never seem to run out of good reads and good music
to live and tell a good story
to listen more
to think openly, respectfully of everyone
to want for everyone, whatever you want for yourself
to never hurt anyone
to simplify the way we all live
to forget all our desires
to remember that while none of all this matters, we will persist to live meaningfully.

And If I Were Light, Here's Where I Would Fall

Hooray for Today

I snatched so many joys today. It  feels extremely vain to repeat it to yourself and write about it. It felt like stealing, because so many others are suffering. But in trying to balance it out, who am I really bragging to? I'm not talking to anyone. I want to repeat today, how my tears fell, how my ankles ached, how my blood boiled.

16 lessons, maybe another hour or two for for admin work and preparations. Bangus for lunch, 2 cups of hand-poured drip coffee, 2 quick car rides (to take and pick up I. from school), throwing the garbage, a 5-km run on the treadmill, engaging D. in conversation, listening to her review I. for exams, and admiring her for taking care of V. all day.

But above all the snatched joys, here are the best ones. You were wearing a dress printed with strawberries. I put on your hat, and we walked to the store to buy a pack of dishwashing liquid. Kuya and I read Dr. Seuss' ABC to you. You went hooray hooray.

On the Swan Lake

The red curtain lifted slowly, and the first thing you see are arched feet on white pointe shoes. The dancers appear, as tough they were weightless, sylph-like.

It didn't matter (so much) that we can't distinguish between an arabesque, a pirouette, or a pivot. It didn't matter that you've never heard of Tchaikovsky. There were real people on the stage, dancers, phenomenal performers exuding so much grace that none of it seemed real. We were up close, near the orchestra pit. We saw their skin covered in sheets of glimmering sweat, their limbs jiggling, their feet knocking on the wooden floor as they landed from faultless, incredible turns. We saw them inhaling and exhaling. I can see the conductor's facial expressions, the bows of the violins moving uniformly. This rhythm that never got old even after 200 years. Then I saw the orchestra players rush to the bathrooms during the interval. Those lights were blinding bright. And I watched you both, in your pure awe.

The music and the dancers commanded your attention. You were engaged, much better than you are when you watch the videos on your iPad. I always thought you watched too many videos on that thing. "They don't realize that their iPhones and iPads aren't real life." A student told me yesterday. But this, this is real life. We watch a princess turn into a swan, a swan turn into a princess. Unbelievable, and most certainly beautiful.

The Nine Minutes I've Lost

To quote myself, quite shamelessly, on an organized 16k run 6 years go:

Towards the end, I felt like I had so much strength left. I was sprinting towards the finish line and I was probably running a 4’00/km pace towards that stretch. I should’ve ran more with what they call “pure guts” and worked harder. I realized, this time I was enjoying myself more than working hard on a race.

I ran another organized 16k and some thoughts never change. But my body certainly does. I've been faster than the younger me before, but this time I'm slower by 9 minutes. And fatter, yes. 

I wasn't expecting to break my record 6 years ago. I finished exactly where I expected at 1:40:31. I suppose even a small amount of training allows you to gauge your own capabilities. From a qualitative perspective, I'm certainly enjoying myself more in this race.  I thought I did the race with a more relaxed efficiency: biking to the race venue, a pee stop before gun time, gels and hydration. I lost speed, but I felt good sense of control. It's as if this run is reflection of my overall mantra in life now:  navigating through life in a direction that's safe from the storms, using my experience to crack open those tiny holes where I find the purest joys. The angst has been long been depleted. Maybe we aren't even resolutely floating aimlessly anymore.

9 minutes slower. 6 years older. At least 12 pounds regained! If it's any consolation:

I wouldn't find my nine minutes if I measure myself against others. I found instead, that I've gained infinitely more than the nine minutes I've lost when I arrived home, among the scattered minutes and 27,000 steps I took throughout the day. 

My daughter, my son, and my wife were all waiting for me by the door. The feel of a gold, gold, gold medal finish. 

We're going to do a lot more than the 9 minutes I've lost. We will be eating pancakes, making coffee, doing the chores, lunching out with family, crashing in a staycation for swimming. drinking, meeting old friends, hanging out all day. I'll be up for more than 24 hours. I'm an electric car on full charge. 

And I'll be getting ready for the next race. 

Respeto

Cinemalaya was one of the festivals that was always ablaze with passion, raw talent and a soul of its own. We've seen many a good film together in previous festivals, when we were just dating. Until, for at time, it becomes swallowed by the mainstream, too commercialized. But perhaps these passions never really fade out, they were always just lurking. We were there and we felt as if it's survived its way out of commercialization and the mainstream. And here we are again, taking our 1-year old daughter along with us to a film festival.

When we were young, we judged our fellow youth as mainly apathetic, then pretentious when they tried to be artistic, or pseudo-intellectual when they set themselves out to become intellectual.  In our late thirties, maybe we've become slightly wiser, and now we say it's just thankfully energizing to be around younger people. We didn't even expect them to share any ideals, but many of them just spontaneously just do so.

The film was directed by a D.'s friend, and friendships are always a motivating hand to do something we would have otherwise passed on. I was curious, of course, but I haven't even seen the preview. It had something to do with Marcos, Martial Law, the "War on Drugs." That was enough.

My eyes wear teary all throughout this fiercely emotional film, moved by the sorrows mirroring our present society, and partly because of the guilt of my own political inertness. Respeto is a musical (hip-hop), poetic and artful criticism of Duterte's war on drugs, of impunity, this normalization of violence, rooted upon our own historical amnesia. Better than any academic critique, this movie is a poignant slap on our face. It doesn't just move you, it shakes you up as it tells you that violence begets violence. This dictatorship, this violence is intrinsically tied and traced back to the dictatorship that was literally still fresh in our memories. The movie is set on these streets, within the 2-kilometer radius of the city where I am, spot on, where the killings happen. We are all in it, we all let it happen.

When the lights went back, I saw that the theater was not just a full-house. Even the steps were occupied. The applause was thunderous. My eyes were still all moist against my glasses.

The woman beside me, a foreigner who smelled like cigarette smoke, complimented us on how our baby was quiet all throughout film. "I hope it didn't ruin your experience of the film." I said. We smiled and exchanged pleasantries. The cheers went on.

"21 dead in one night over 100.25 gms of shabu. While those involved and the names being dropped in connection with the 604kgs of shabu seized are enjoying due process that the govt deprives the poor and small players." 

On the way out of the theater, we our friend M. and S. We snapped some photos together, and they told us someone had and episode while watching. It might have been a severe panic attack.

We still can't stand to watch each other die.

Drunken Review

The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared
Jonas Jonasson
epub, 404kb 350 pages

The title, very clever, should have been a forewarning. A venture of far-fetched possibilities in far-flung places. It still manages to guillotine our imagination, and sure it's a pure delight to read, if only to release or escape from our own daily realities.

It often sounds like a script, a very easy read, wrapped in a desire to be adapted into the big screen. It's more readable in an ebook, as if it already anticipated that the readers will consume it in their e-readers rather than a physical book.

The last time I felt like this was Robin Sloan's Mr. Penumbra's 24-hour bookstore. Although Sloan's book was also like a propaganda, or an outright advertisement for something. For Google, in particular. The Hundred Year Old Man...., on the other hand, seems like an outright advertisement for vodka. It lured me into buying a bottle each of British and Russian vodka. The Swedish ones are overpriced.

In Filipino, we have a concept called usapang lasing, "drunken-talk." The boastful stories armed with expletives, the claims of achievement, the inner secrets or verified gossips that only reveals itself when one is drunk. This book is just like that. A lot of often-fun drunken talk.

Maligayang Bati, mga anak!

Sulyap ng langit sa ating buhay

Maraming iyak ngunit mas marami ang mga ngiting dinulot mo sa ating munting mundo. Mapalad kami sa bawat segundong kasama namin kayo ni Kuya I. Salamat sa pagbibigay mo ng kabuluhan sa aming buhay. 


Nagmamahal ng lubos, ang iyong mga magulang.

The Science Teacher and Construction Worker

She stood up, she handed me her favorite Dr. Seuss, wordlessly telling me to read it to her.

-----------------

She claps with her whole body.

-----------------------

There was an earthquake last night, I told him when he woke up. "You mean there are two tectonic plates rubbing against each other?" He quoted Nietzsche over lunch. Right now, the difference between my son and me is that he found out how vast the universe is --- he showed me how small earth and the sun is, in comparison to the many galaxies in the universe
Perhaps he won't be so surprised by our insignificance,

---------------

In my head, there's an imaginary conversation

A: How can you read Che Guevarra on your staycation?
B: What's wrong with that?
A: He would rather die than stay in a hotel, your Che said.

--------------

I will be a science teacher or astronaut while V. will be a construction worker, he said. Needless to say, he meant no insult to V., or to construction workers.

------------

At her age, 10, 11 months, she prefers one parent over the other. That baby center updates appraised us so. She prefers her mom, no question about it. She cries and sets off like an alarm when she's 1.5 feet away from her mother. But it only makes the moments she is with me much sweeter. Ealier tonight, you let me inside your play pen, and I read Neruda to you while you stood up, as if to assure me that you were never going to run away from me.

-------------

I'm working in his room now. I'm documenting feedback listening to a Death Cab for Cutie song. He goes, "Can you add that song to my playlist?"

----------------

Of course life's not all soap bubbles and butterflies, but thankfully enough, life isn't vapid or too tedious. We are together all the time.

-----------------

Think ----> Sing

I must have been searching for this song for a decade now. I've had the longstanding agony of having 20-year++ LSS on a song I didn't know the title. I've sifted through a great many alternative 90's playlists. I've combed through the albums of suspected artists. I must have hummed it to SoundHound or similar apps for hundreds of times. I never found it.

There was no one to confide to. How could I even explain what I was looking for? Even when I found it, I don't know anyone who might have even known this song. Even the search engines couldn't help me when I googled portions of the lyrics. All I remember was "to think about the moon." I never found it.

I conceded. There will always be unanswered questions in life.

The universe did me favor when I chanced upon listening a song called "Bliss" by a local act, Sundown Muse. Summer was coming, and I was listening to Spotify while washing the dishes. I heard the line "How do I presume to sing about the moon...."

My first thought was, it sounds like they plagiarized. On second thought, I thought this might have been the song and this must have been some kind of tribute. When I ran that line, Fossil's Moon came out. I must have listened to it at least a hundred times that night. A deep scar disappeared. It as if I resigned from my job. It is as if I won the lottery. I divided the atom. I explained the universe in a beautiful formula. I was transported back to my childhood room and this song was playing on the stereo.

I sing, repeatedly, from the lyrics of the song: "this elation evades description."

How can I presume to sing about the moon
Oh how can I presume to sing about the moon
Shall I say it is enchanted
Shall I say it is romantic nonsense
Now that I *** the adolescent swoon
Oh how can I presume to sing about the moon
Shall I say I love her dearly
Shall I say I need her ever near me
This elation evades description
So how can I convey my conviction
Oh satellite
Your majesty makes my heart rise
Oh concubine
Your radiance swells up my eyes
All the multitude that's faced you
Who can say they never once embraced the moon?

I spend all day with my family. I do, however, spend a significant amount of time developing curriculums for this teaching job, working online, rediscovering myself such as I have now. The lesson plans included /s/ and /th/ sounds. I may never have been able to figure it out if I didn't keep listening to what the universe was telling me:

thing ---> sing
think ----> sink

A simple inference makes it obvious.

Thank you, Universe. I'll keep quiet now and listen some more.

None of These I Imagined Possible

"You can just drop me off, I'm almost seven now." I wasn't driving, and I would have been grateful do walk him inside the school. He shooed me off and I felt even more grateful.

I'm just guessing, but in the glare of her eyes, something tells me that she is receptive to everything I am reading to her. The way she waves when I say hi, the she assures me that she can hear and she is listening.

And D., the she makes me love even what I thought I despised. Okra tastes feels like eating spit, I told her once. But now I enjoy the crunch and the texture and the way it pairs with rice and seaweed. What a delicious sight she is, always. How kind she is, how infinitely beautiful.

How easily did I ward off the stress when I ran a short 7k on the treadmill. I jumped into my well, and just as quickly I warp-zoned to the beach with DJ Tiesto blaring at my ears through bluetooth earphones. Running is a way of forgiving yourself.

When the internet went down for my evening classes, I ran back to my parents. I even slid in a drink or two with my brothers, and my father.

I often let everything just pass without pondering. But all these happened in one day, and none of it, many years back, was something I would have imagined as possible.

A little after midnight, I washed the dishes. Then I was never alone.

Who Have I Become Now?

After many years. I still say, the world crumbles beneath our feet. It's probably the worst year in politics. Oh, poor human race. It's another hottest recorded year of a doomed planet. While Satan's practically poking us with pitch forks, we put on the rose colored glasses and turn to the bright side. 2016 was:

the year I quit my job of 10.5 years and found a new one
the year I supported D. (best I can) in the final two trimesters of pregnancy
the year V. was born

the year I had the most money (and still kept most of it)

the drive-my-kid-to-school-everyday year.
the coffee shop, books, music and TV series year

After many new years, I finally stopped asking, who am I? Just who have I become now?

A once-in-a-while-runner, online worker, husband and father, who almost never wears long pants and leather shoes. A man who has streaks of occasional brilliance.

For a long time now, I've cleansed myself of perceptions that I am some great man. People never really grow up. We never discover who we truly are.  But I still want the world to change. Every year, I feel more compelled to uphold what is right.

We hit our walls, the earth crumbling beneath our feet, and we keep running.

We and our silly ways.