The Anatomy of Infidelity (1)

“May I put my arm around your shoulder?”

It was (in retrospect) a very innocent request.  The rain was intense and the late spring breeze was still bringing chills to the bones. I thought it would be easier with my left arm around her to keep us both warm and dry within the perimeters of my umbrella.  

I didn’t wait for her reply. It was after all, just a friendly and gentlemanly gesture. Until I noticed my involuntary sniffing everytime her long hazel hair was getting blown into my face.   

Despite my valiant attempt to keep us from getting wet, we were soaked from waist down upon reaching the lab. We thought it was better to proceed directly to the locker room down the basement to change into dry clothings. Luckily, our lab shares facilities with the more patient-oriented clinical department. There were plenty of  hospital garments in the locker room usually worn by doctors and nurses.  

We parted ways upon entering the basement corridor. Me, to the left and she to the right. As I was deciding which clothings to use (should I go for the surgeon’s green or the usual plain white?) I noticed that we were out of towel in the men’s changing room.

I dashed out of the room, to ask her if they got extra towels before she could get into the women’s locker room.  Unfortunately, she was already inside.  I knocked on the door and casually asked if they got extra towels. She said I should come inside and  help myself as there was no one else there but her. She was already in the shower and thus unable to help me. 

So I carefully proceeded inside the room while consciously avoiding taking a glance towards her direction. I went directly to the pile of dry towels in the open cabinet, took one, mumbled something that sounded like “thanks” and walked towards the door.   

But she called out my name as I was going out.

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Youth

Here is an excerpt from a poem called “Youth”, by Samuel Ullman (1840-1924), emailed to me by my japanese host “Otosan” (“father”) when he learned I was leaving Japan for Sweden way back 2001. A very beautiful poem, which alongside Desiderata, continues to be of great influence to me how I perceive myself and the world.

Youth is not a time of life;
it is a state of mind;
it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees;
it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination,
a vigor of the emotions;
it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease.
This often exists in a man of sixty more than a boy of twenty.
Nobody grows old merely by a number of years.
We grow old by deserting our ideals.

Interestingly, the poem is very popular in Japan due to it being a favourite of Gen. Douglas MacArthur, the Supreme Allied Commander in the Pacific during and after WWII, who had the poem posted on the wall of his Tokyo office. Here is the link to the complete poem: Samuel Ullman Museum.

And here’s my own translation into Tagalog/Filipino (2007):

Ang kabataan ay hindi isang antas ng buhay;
ito ay ang kalagayan ng pag-iisip;
hindi ito patungkol sa mabuburok na pisngi, mapupulang labi, at matibay na tuhod;
tumutukoy ito sa lakas ng kalooban, uri ng guni-guni, sidhi ng damdamin;
ito ay ang kasariwaan niyong malalim na bukal ng buhay.

Ang kabataan ay ang pangingibabaw ng katapangan sa kahinaang-loob,
ang kagustuhan sa pakikipagsapalaran imbes na sa kadalian.
Madalas itong nakikita sa isang animnapung taong gulang kesa doon sa dalawampung taon.
Walang sinuman ang tumatanda dahil sa haba ng panahon.
Ang pagtanda ay nagaganap sandaling
lisanin natin ang mga dakilang hangarin.

Maaaring mangulubot ang balat sa paglipas ng taon,
subalit ang pagpapabaya sa sigasig ng buhay ay nakakapangulubot ng kaluluwa.
Ang pag-aala-ala, takot, kawalan ng tiwala sa sarili ay nakakalagas ng puso
at ang diwa ay nagiging alikabok.

Maging animnapu man o labing-anim,
sa bawat puso ng isang tao ay may umiiral na pagnanasa sa kamanghaan,
‘kumbaga batang paslit na laging sabik sa magaganap,
at sa kagalakan ng laro ng buhay.

Doon sa kaibuturan ng iyong puso at ng aking puso
ay may antenang nakahimpil;
habang ito ay nakakatanggap ng mensahe ng kariktan,
pag-asa, tuwa, tapang, lakas mula sa sangkatauhan at
mula doon sa Itaas, ikaw ay mananatiling bata.

Sa panahong nakatumba ang antena, at ang iyong diwa ay natatakluban ng
niyebe ng pag-aalinlangan at kawalang pag-asa,
ay doon magsisimula ang iyong pagtanda, kahit na ikaw ay dalawampu pa lamang.
Subali’t habang nakataas yaong antena,
at handang sumagap ng kalatas ng kinabukasan,
ay maaring isa ka pa ring bata sa iyong paglisan pagsapit ng walumpo.

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Between Marriage and Death

Another positive thing about the death of one of the world’s most wanted terrorist is that it virtually erased everything that pertains to the marriage of some privileged individuals from my newsfeed. Kudos to all journalists who still know the concept of newsworthiness. Things that matter, that is.

Now I can check the news again.

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