Half of what I say is meaningless; but I say it so that the other half may reach you. --Kahlil Gibran
Home » Archives » July 2007
Road Trip
July 12, 2007
29 June 2007
I put on my rugged pants and a nice blue tee. I slipped on my flat sandal, grabbed my sporty bag and snatched a stylish black cap in my closet to complete my boyish look for the day. I was going on a trip back to Legaspi with my dad who was on his way there.
As soon as he arrived, I leaped and we raced through the road with my heart throbbing. It was my first long ride on a motorcycle and it scared the hell out of me! I was on a road trip on a two-wheeler, with an inexperienced motorcyclist, with buses overtaking shamelessly and those meeting us in the opposite direction. I was excited to get home but the intensity of my fear that time effortlessly interfered with my desire to savor the scenery along the way. The reality of fear preoccupied me and I became more anxious knowing that just one slip on the road would send me bouncing off the trail. I had no protective gear and I laid exposed to all possibilities, or should I say, uncertainties. I braced myself and gripped hard.
Distracting myself from the racers on the road, I looked toward the stillness of the mountains from afar. I gazed upward and there was calmness among the clouds, sending a sense of quietness in me despite the speed we’re moving. The immense cone-shaped Mayon Volcano was just ahead and nothing in it seemed to move except the playful mist hiding the crater. Half way of our journey, I captured my fear by the tail. Although on some bends, I still felt terribly uneasy. And the aggressiveness of the other drivers still gave me sudden bouts of shock!
Having subsided, my apprehension was replaced by the sense of thrill. Finally, my adventurous spirit emerged and I began to notice more the events on the road. The sky turned dark and then darker; the wind grew cold and then colder. Lights from the houses were lit and I began to feel the angry wind against me. The moon and some stars, which began to appear, slyly hid behind smoked gray clouds. I looked ahead but it was difficult to see clearly in the dark.
Suddenly, raindrops fell but the sky withdrew its tears. If it rained, we would have been soaked and the ride would have sent chills throughout my body, which I know would try doubly hard to compensate for I was cold intolerant. The danger of a slippery road, combined with a less visible path, alarmed me! The anticipation of reaching home safe was both a prayer and my only consolation.
We passed by several towns more but as we were nearing home, the rain finally poured. The sky must have been lonely as it broke into lavish tears. And I thought of stargazers that night who might be lonely, too.
My mood began to change. It was a sentimental evening and my thoughts led me to search my own heart toward uncharted paths. I found a part of it crying for some things it lost or never had. My own loneliness and depravity surfaced into my consciousness and I was sad for a moment.
I guess, there will always be a silent part of who we are which keeps record of our failures, our lost hopes, our brokenness, our unaccomplished dreams.
That part, though guarded, would manifest itself somehow on appropriate circumstances. And the only way to confront it is to listen to what it has to say about who we are and what it has been guarding deep down inside to spare us from hurt. This silent part, though, is not a junkshop of negative emotions, but a reservoir of raw materials from which we can draw courage, rebuild hopes and extract desire. The desire to dream. Perhaps, on my part, it was a moment to reconnect with my soul.
By the time I transcended that melancholic state, we already crossed the boundary where no rain was in sight. The road was completely dry and the city lights were coming into view. I was becoming a little bit chilly, but a few more bends and we would be at the comfort of our home in the heart of the city. We were getting tired and the night had fully dawned.
My hunger for thrill was once gain satiated. I conquered my fear of danger on the road and I had another taste of adventure. My Saguitarian life is about traveling and just as the archer in me shoots and so I gallop far enough to see where my arrow strikes.
Life is an inexhaustible adventure for me. There are risks and there are luck. I’d take them both if presented on my path. My arrows took me to rapel down caves in Sagada, go into the sacred burial site of the mummified Ifugaos in Banawe, travel back in time in Vigan, meet the clouds on an airplane ride, sail with the waves on my escapades, and work my muscles on a steep climb on many treks. I saw the sun rise from a high altitude and I witnessed the marvels of the sky as the sun’s dying rays submitted to the moon and the stars. I went into the heart of the mountains and found a fall where I bathe in its virgin waters.
Living is about experiencing.
But there are many things I still want to do before I give way gently to the serenity of old age – before my muscles and joints ache and before my memory fails me. I like to take that ride on a hot air balloon and watch everything go smaller as I go up, parachute from a helicopter, make that nerve-racking bungee jump while I submit to gravity and dive to see the corals underneath salty water. To the more homely of my desires, I want to paint and call myself an artist, publish my own literary book, shoot a gun, play a guitar or piano, and meet someone who can put melody on one of my poems so it can transform into a song. Finally, to love and be loved back because that is the most important of all my quests. Then my adventurous heart can finally retire home…
As if in a trance, my mind drifted on a soliloquy and before I realized it, our long ride came to an end. We were at the doorstep of which I call my home. But the dare has just begun! The next time am on the road for a motorcycle dare, I’d surely take the driver’s seat. The big question though is, how can I ever make it run. Now that is something I need to figure out.
