There are times, fortunate moments, auspicious incidents, that gleefully remind us of where we are and what the heck we're doing there. Today was mine.
The gym foray this Sunday morning could have shot me some happiness juice, care of endorphins, then reminded me the joys and benefits of having a body. Which, so I hear, is the most important instrument you will ever hold in the whole length and breadth of your mortal life.
Or perhaps the satisfying Japanese banquet (plus a moan-inducing butterscotch fudge bar!!!) we festively (and health-consciously) gorged on afterwards filled not only our tummies, but also our spirit with resounding peace and encompassing satisfaction. This freed in my mind the bubble of other forgotten festivities conducted around sushi and mounds of wasabi.
Maybe it could have been because of the post-shopping smile I had as we strolled out Festival mall, bags laden with treats and trinkets. The thump of purchases and the hefty weight in hand brought with them the appreciation for the act of purchasing: finding something you like and being so lucky, so blessed, to have the opportunity to take it home and call it your own.
It could have been the thought of watching a Japanese movie on the silverscreen, realizing all along why I've come to love the Japanese and their strange probably-misunderstood wisdom.
Then again, it might have been the long-delayed bright-red radio/clock/cd-player/mp3-player/sub-woofer/speaker acquisition. You telling me to finally shut the susurrus of sighs and start the ceremony of swiping--of my credit card, that is.
And then, there's the wonderful coolness and prevailing calmness of shambling clouds and captured sunlight that imbued this Sunday afternoon its grayness, lending all these events the opportunity to color this one special day with their very own rambunctious tones and heady contrasts.
All these things, could have, may have, perhaps have, peradventure have, come together to conspire and to build out of random occurrence this quiet joy and tepid mirth.
And then came along a memory of you and the 3 months we've been together. And so I wondered as we drove home after a long, fruitful day.
You asked me, with a sideward glance and potent discernment, what I was wondering about--in 5 or less words, which is impossible--really.
I said I was composing, something sweet to mark this day of days. And if it all came to one thing, one statement to concisely capture the full spectrum of emotions I feel, it was this I said:
If today is because of you, then hereon afterward is another day to look forward to.
You squeezed my hand and reminded me how lucky I was.
Love is too grand an emotion, and for weeks I struggled with it. Attempting to fathom what starry-eyed scholars, philosophers and --most successfully-- poets have wondered about for ages, I took those 70 days (I counted) and took part in the communal inner struggle of romantics the world over, for the pursuit of happiness and the wages of the heart.
My very first --and albeit, unoriginal-- thought was that amour is a roaring flame: something so potent in its aspect and forceful in its motions. It grows quickly and consumes you in its fiery throes and flickers of passion. The phrase that this drama "conquers all" led me here, thinking that it was something so invincible, so unquestionable as the turning of heavenly spheres and the perseverance of the stars.
An emotion so terribly absolute, I thought that all I had to do was patiently wait as it incubates within my chest. Restraining it as much as I could while it slowly, but surely, builds up inside and finally, at the most romantic of moments, explodes in a dazzling array of heat and giddiness and the echoes of its piercing crescendo shakes the vaults of the heavens, perhaps make the very angels look down and smile their secret smiles.
I thought that that was love: something intangible that pushes you around. I wanted to utter those three words at the last possible second, at the most final of hours, for the sole reason, the only reason, that the butterflies in my tummy left me no other choice.
But, of course, it turned out differently. It was so much simpler.
I like you because I don't have to do pretend-nice with you.
I adore you because the bullshit doesn't work, doesn't have to work.
I cherish you because you never let go.
You are the exception to the rule and so much more. I gladly fall apart at your slightest touch and yet I could weather the darkest storms by your side. You make me do the craziest things--only to find out I've been wanting it all along. You are irony, and through the conflict you invoke in my being, I have found my peace.
I've whispered my prayers and submitted my acquiescence. And here at the conclusion of all the tumult and turbulence of finding out what it means to really love someone, I've finally found my answer in you.
So I said I love you, and you said you loved me too.
... is pretty much nil if you think really, really hard about it. It's like being left the last skewed slice of pizza, a possible victim of an ingredient blind spot, and then finding out someone else has already --unabashed-- bitten into it. Almost negligible, you'd be hard-pressed to come-up with spare change of this denomination. Heck, cashiers don't even bother. But after this year's merit rating, a sordid process of self-reflection and evaluation, that special number took on a whole new meaning.
In our company, 7% meant VG-mid, which actually sounds pretty flattering. I performed well, not too shabby, but still have much to learn. If this was school, that'd mean I don't have to worry about exam results, unsubmitted assignments or those passionate peremptory recitations.
But, as the old adage says, the real world is a far stranger place than what they teach you in school. Apparently, all that hard-work, diligent effort, and relentless spirit I brandished these past 12 months were mediocre, commonplace and unexceptional. But I do understand though that I was young and that this is something that I should simply charge to experience.
I actually didn't mind that everyone else I knew where getting bonuses, 2-digit increases and hefty allowances , not to mention incentives, left and right. But the thing that piqued me most was that this was an opportunity lost. It dawned on me that, in terms of compounded interest, this was a failure--and sensei would be terribly disappointed.
If I had performed better, acted a little faster, smiled a little more, spoke a little more Japanese, I might have, however little, scored some more. If this was a video game, the walkthroughs would have told me to restart because, as another adage says, every bit counts.
So, to say the least, I was demoralized. I continued work dejected and disappointed. It didn't help things at all that some people were leaving the company too, getting salaries credit-card companies would rejoice for. At the risk of sounding conceited, I felt like I deserved more.
And then tonight, over our beloved Ate Frances' impromptu surprise despidida (that had a few crazy stories of its own including a 30-minute bathroom stake-out), I met a white-haired fellow of learned manner and gentle composition. He was Ate Frances' dad, Rudy-san, who apparently grew up in Japan and was more than happy to share with me some tales from the land of the rising sun (and yen).
And talk, he did and, like most wizened people we know, threaded his stories with tenets of encouragement and advice. He said that loyalty and patience is it's own reward, especially in a Japanese company; that the Japanese way was good and I was very fortunate to have found it. He went on that discovering their culture was a satisfying journey, their ideals and values are respected the whole world over for very good reason.
But above all, that I was young, and that my aspirations, despite minor setbacks, are still just as attainable as ever. In kind words and in the purest spirit of goodwill, he explained to me that the world is still offering me the riches of my dreams, and youth is my currency.
And in a few more hours, I'll be going back to work, earning yesteryear's salary at 7% more, but 100% the wiser.
