Looking at Fear's Ugly Face

Fear said 'hello' to me again when one weekend my friends were planning to go wall-climbing and asked me to come along. I went along, but I didn't go climbing. I just sat down looking at them climb that wall and went wondering whether or not I'd be able to face it again.

My fear of heights. Of falling. Of dying.

As I sat there on the bench looking up at that wall, at my friends scaling it, I recalled events that happened almost 8 years ago during college. Fresh in my early twenties, I just got off a potentially deadly traffic accident. I was unscathed, and the car only sustained minor damages. If things were only an inch different (or a second too early, a second too late, a heartbeat away), I'd probably have said good bye to this life 8 years ago. But that was not the case, and at the time I suddenly felt invincible.

It might be considered foolish, but I felt as if I could face anything. Thus, I chose to go do some outdoor activities. I was always wondering whether or not I could survive out there. At the time in my campus there's this nature lover group that was recruiting new members, and it was probably easy to guess that I signed up for it. To be accepted, we have to go through this initiation process where we have to try every routine activities they had back then (camping, rock climbing, kayak-ing, cave exploration, rafting, SAR simulation, survival in nature, etc.). Before the initiation activities we had to learn all the necessary skills in theory classes that our seniors had set up (tying knots, setting up camps, packing your bags, etc.).

I only realized that we were in for a rough time when they told us that we need to carry our at-least-15-kg-heavy back packs all the time. It was not such a good idea after all, I thought to myself.

I could not back out of it. I was already in too deep, backing out would make me feel like a wimp for the rest of my life. However, something was pulling me back so hard at the time, telling me that going was a really bad idea. Maybe it was the idea of leaving the comfort of proper civilization that was pulling me back. Maybe it was my sudden lack of confidence. Anyways, when I tried that heavy bag on I knew that it was not going to be easy. But, like I said, I was in too deep and I felt that there were no other choices.

One by one my friends started to climb that wall, and my mind took me back to a night so long ago when I was sleeping along with the other would-be members of the nature-loving group. We set up camp under a cliff that night, a cliff that some of my friends were assuming we would be climbing the next day. Turned out that it was not, but the cliff I climbed was somewhere near. This is where I faced my biggest fear. Rock-climbing has always been one of the items in my list of things I would probably never do in my life due to my fear of heights. I remembered how scared I was that day, how frustrated my seniors were from trying to tell me to go ahead and give it a try anyways. Finally, I put my right hand on the first grip that I could find and started climbing. The cliff was not hard to climb, in all truthfulness, as there were a lot of grip points. My biggest challenge was facing my fear of heights and of falling. My energy was mostly taken away just to muster up courage to pull myself up ever so slowly. Halfway my senior yelled from the ground and told me to yell the group's name. Took awhile to tore my eyes from looking at the cliff face and looked down. It came out more like a whisper than a yell...

They told me to yell again when I finally got on top. It came out okay, but felt a little held back. I knew that it was not over.

Looking at a friend hitting the wall when he was being belayed down snapped me back to the present. When he finally came back to solid ground I told him to...

"Use your feet to break your impact against the cliff face!" My senior from the ground below yelled at me as I attempted to rapple down the cliff face. I was hugging the cliff face using my knees, afraid to let go and afraid of the heights. I kept telling myself that I would have to go down, there's no other way to avoid it. After some time, slowly I gathered my courage and using both my feet I propelled myself against the cliff face while slowly letting go of the rope. The going was slow, but as I neared the ground everything started to go smooth as I know that I would soon be relieved from the strain of having to muster up courage everytime I propelled myself against that cliff face.

The wall my friends were climbing was not as hard as the cliff face. The grips were large and quite comfortable. As I sat there, I knew that I could scale that wall. Fear, however, lurked behind my mind and teased. It reared its ugly face at me and it scared me.

For some strange reason, however, it excited me as well.

Many things happened during that journey to nature 8 years ago (the stories can make one long entry, something that I'm not keen on doing at the moment but will probably do so in the future). My personal fear visitted many times during that journey. It would probably too far-fetched to say that the journey completely changed who I was, but I did learn a lot of things about myself. I saw the dark side of me then (and was not proud of it, knowing that I could have been better). I also learn that fear is air with my face on it. But I believe that the most important thing I learned during the journey was that it created in me a heightened sense of respect towards nature in all its beauty and dangers. There's never a moment in my life when I look at the mountains and not think about whether or not I could make it again. The journey. There's never a moment in my life when I look at nature and did not feel an ever-growing respect towards it.

Maybe I did change.

In any case, this old friend visitted me again, and I felt its challenge. I vowed to myself to face it and get it over with the next weekend.

And get it over with I did.

Blue Skies are Good Remedy for A Tired Soul...

This is an ode to that ever present canopy high atop our heads and our tallest buildings. We might take it for granted often times, and God knows I do take it for granted from time to time. I mean, it has always been there and it has never literally come crashing down on our head (though it does happen, figuratively, from time to time in our lives but the sky's never really to blame in these cases) and it puts on some of the best displays human eyes can ever feast upon. But it's such a shame that we oftentimes hardly notice it.

My appreciation of a bright blue sky came to fruition about a couple of years ago. I was on my way to work, and at the time I was feeling down about the whole idea of life. I was walking down to where I usually take the bus to commute, when I noticed that the day was unusually bright (when you are depressed and down, it is a really good idea to divert your mind to other things and the bright light that day was practically screaming "Oohhh, pick me, pick me!"). It was bright, clear blue, with not the slightest hint of a cloud. The wind was only a whisper, and the buzzing noise of the busy city that was Jakarta had a bit of a muted quality to it (as if there was an ear muffler strapped on my head). It was as if the blueness of the sky drowned out the city noises, like it was a sound instead of a color. It was probably overly dramatic to say that my depression lifted instantly, but at that moment, it did. It felt like a wind just blew over a dusty surface, revealing a previously hidden gloss. No amount of Frisium or any other anti-depressant could ever replace that kind of effect.

A Scratch in the Sky

[It turned out to be a hot, sweaty day (blue sky with no clouds was usually a strong hint of a hot, sweaty day in Jakarta) but at least the depression lifted.]

Cloudy days, now that's a different thing. When the sky hide itself behind clouds, many people would say that it was a nice day to be inside the house and enjoy the many creature comforts that could be found in their individual dwellings. Maybe it's been hard-wired since the days of when humans were still living in caves. Rainy days, can't do nothing 'bout it, might as well put away our hunting spears away and go back to sleep in the cave. Something like that. The color of the gray sky is also quite melancholic, and if you're not in the reflective mood this can be quite a disadvantage to your psyche (I know it would be quite a disadvantage for me). But, no one can't deny that it's a really good time to get some quality Zzzzz.

Living in the state of California (near San Francisco, to be exact) for about one and a half month brought me to a deeper realization how a simple thing like a blue sky can really affect your mood, and give some healing. It was summertime in US soil, but the soil of my heart was growing cold. However, one thing in the US that never escaped notice was how big and wide the spaces are there. The sense of wide open spaces are so jarring there that one coming from a crowded place like Asia (such as myself) couldn't help but realize it, in a good way. Living in a small town of Pleasant Hill, where the highest building around was only 4 or 5 stories tall, the view of the sky was not the slightest obscured. There, you'd realized how vast the sky was, and the blueness of it was probably as deep as the ocean (even though it was on the other deep end of the vertical plane). It was hypnotizing, and it soothed the aching heart.

A Palm Tree among the Blue Skies

[The recipe for a tired soul: take a fresh picking of a blue sky (make sure you pick the most blue), squeeze, heat the blue juice until some vaporizes. Take a deep breath of the vapor and relax, drink the juice through your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your skin. (You can do the same thing as well when you catch a cold, but an extra dose of orange juice would probably help as well).]

I wonder whether it was why people, hypnotized by the sky, build skyscraper and try to reach it or even pierce it (like the Tower of Babel). But it did no good because it only obscures the view for those land dwellers. Maybe that's why it was so hard to find the truth these days, because there were so many skyscrapers out there.

Though that doesn't sound right, but it sure do feels right.

People would sometime ask whether or not you're a 'beach' or a 'mountain' person. There was a time when I would say without hesitation that I was more of a 'mountain' person, though I did have a thing or two about beaches. However, if asked now, I'd probably say that I love both equally. Both have their own qualities: mountains are more quiet, reflective and meditative; while beaches are more playful and youthful. And both have special relations to the blue sky.

Blue Skies on top of Lassen

It was a few years ago when I was staying over at a friend's villa in Puncak, a mountaineous area just outside of Jakarta. The surrounding environment was still quite green and natural (trees everywhere), and I was at this big field of grass on the hill right across from where my friend's villa was. Thought that it was probably nice to just lie down on the grass and stare at the sky. The sky that day was bright blue, with a helping of clear white clouds, just like whip cream on a fresh, blue-colored frappucino. But as I was doing so, I came to the realization of how small I was in the face of the vast sky, and it felt as if the weight of it all was crushing down on me. At the same time, I imagined how it felt if gravity was turned upside down. To be falling down to the infinte deep of the sky. I stood up feeling dizzy. That was the only time I became quite frightful of the sky.

It is just a silly musing, but I couldn't help but draw a comparison between the mountains and the beaches or the sea for that matter. While mountains try hard to reach into the sky, the sea does exactly that without even trying. If you want to see proof, just go to any beach on a really good day and look at the horizon. There, the blue sky came down to meet the sea at the end of the horizon. We might try hard to meditate, to reflect, in trying to reach the truth. But sometimes the innocence and the playfulness of youth itself attracts the truth even without any intentions of doing so.

Yes, this is an ode to a good, blue sky. That canopy high in the air that sees everything that goes on in the world below, yet often times taken for granted.

Blue skies are indeed good remedy for a tired soul.

A Mac Book, however, is a good alternative (and a completely different thing).

Heaven or Hell

I read this book once, it's title is 'Awareness'. The writer was Anthony de Mello. You see, I really like de Mello's books, because they are usually quite eye-opening. The things that are written in his books might be hard to swallow at times, if you really reflect yourself on it. And the things that he wrote in 'Awareness' are no exception. Coming from a Catholic priest, this book might be considered 'unbelievable' or 'outrageous' for some people. Indeed, a friend of mine (who has also read that book and likes it) forwarded it to her Protestant priest and he said that that book should be burned.

But I believe that what de Mello was trying to do was just to point out the harsh truth inside every man. A bitter truth, but the truth nonetheless. In my own personal opinion, that truth is part of what being human is all about. And I believe that once a person can be at peace with this truth, life would be a lot easier for him or her. Or maybe harder. Who knows anyways.

In any case, I would really like to give a review about de Mello's 'Awareness', but I think this book deserves more than just a review. And in that review I will not be able to help but to give my own interpretation about the subject that is brought to attention in that book, and that will only take away the true intention of the book. So, just go ahead and look for the book and read it for yourself. Give yourself a favour and read it with an open mind.

Well, up until now I'm just talking about the 'truth', the 'truth' and the 'truth' without saying what the 'truth' is all about. To describe this, I would like to quote from a book that I am still reading right now (a review is coming, once I finish reading the book that is :P). I was quite taken by this short paragraph I found in this book. It is harsh, but in a twisted way, true.I believe that what I'm quoting runs along the same line as what de Mello is trying to say to us in 'Awareness', albeit with different words. This short story is taken from David Mitchell's fiction novel 'Ghostwritten'. Read it with an open mind. And of course, how you interpret it is all up to you.

'I guess this isn't really a secret, it's more of a story. I remember a sermon. A traveller went on a journey with an angel. They entered a house with many floors. The angel opened one door, and in it was a room with one long low bench running around the walls, crammed with people. In the centre was a table piled with sweetmeats. Each guest had a very long silver spoon, as long as a man is tall. They were trying to feed themselves, but of course they couldn't - the spoons were too long, and the food kept falling off. So in spite of there being enough food for everyone, everyone was hungry. "This," explains the angel, "is hell. The people do not love each other. They only want to feed themselves."'

'Then the angel took the traveller to another room. It was exactly the same as the first, only this time instead of trying to feed themselves, the guests used their spoons to feed one another, across the room. "Here," said the angel, "the people think only of one another. And by doing so, they feed themselves. Here is heaven."'

Tatyana thought for a moment. 'There's no difference.'

'No difference?'

'No difference. Everybody both in heaven and hell wanted one and the same thing: meat in their bellies. But those in heaven got their shit together bettter. That's all.'

Taken from 'Ghostwritten', written by David Mitchell