Gamblers

... If you're gonna play the game board, you gotta learn to play it right. You've got to know when to hold them ... know when to fold them ... know when to walk away ... know when to run. You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table. There'll be time enough for countin' when the deal is done ....

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Have you ever gambled? Or - have you ever played a game?

I have! It's not because I do not have a choice, but I do!

May 26, 2003 - I've already shopped and packed the things I need for the two-days convention in Cebu City. Excite? Nope! Certainly not! Who would be when I knew so well that two's not a company, and three's certainly not a group? It was so sad to think that the rest of my colleagues can never be with the three of us in the Queen City of the Pacific - just because they have already committed their vacation time with their families, or for whatever reasons.

With a sagging spirit, I almost missed the van bound for the sea port, and even almost missed the ship. But who cares? I was not really looking forward to crossing seas just to meet new faces, just to collect new experiences, much less to listen to boring lectures, perform social function in a Caribbean or Hawaiian attire, and play childish games.

But the first day of the convention passed successfully. Fortunately, the turn of events renewed my blurring hues - painting a smile in my face. Resource speakers made my brain burped with timely and useful information ... acquaintances filled my list of friends ... and experiences were worth enough to be carefully treasured at the back of my mind.

The second day came. It was fun time for all of us. We deserved it! Who doesn't?

Wearing a sporty attire, I was really looking forward to participating in all the games. I even grimaced at the thought of playing - which for me is bizarre. During my school years, playing whatever game is the last thing I would ever do. I would rather stay home and bore myself than participate with such activities. I would rather memorize and practice lengthy oratorical piece, than expose myself under the sun and be filthy with perspiration. If trapped, I would just volunteer to organize or facilitate rather than participate. But everything changes. I just wanted to feel alive and energized that day.

As expected, the activities progressed with so much fun. Vibrating laughter, sweet giggles, and childish mirth filled the convention room. Tearful joys and joyful tears were in every one's faces. Some group members looked nervous carried with great ease (or was it?) by their co-members as they passed through the black hole (that wasn't black at all), as if they were in a flying trapeze.  All players sure looked funny in a blindfold - trying to understand their leader's instructions,holding each other tightly (not because they like it, but because they're trying to protect their line from breaking, and their balloons from bursting) as they trudged their way to the unknown path. Other members even frowned as we tried to carry together the small balloon that served as an "atomic bomb" - as if it really was, and as if it was really that heavy, perhaps thinking which way to go, so as not to drop it for it might "really" explode if we do. Other teams even cheated (without their knowledge perhaps?) as if it was part of their strategic plans just to win the game. Our group even repeated a game because we did not follow the rules (or was it because we didn't fully understand it?). We even wasted so much time waiting - not because we want to, but because it was the only way. I even felt so foolish solving the mind puzzles and asking the answer for 8 times 6, where in fact, I am already in the third term of my graduate studies in teaching Mathematics.

The games ended at last. Everybody were pleased, energized, and looked like having so much fun. Winners wore glowing "smileys" on their faces as they raised their chins up with great pride. Losers, a silent frown, though pretending just to feel fine, as if they don't want to do it again ... just to redirect some unfair rules and to regain what is lost.

Our team was not declared the winner, and definitely not the loser (we still got something even though we were the last to finish the game). What ever prizes we got and shared is of no importance. What matters most was the fun that we shared together, and the lessons that we learned out of playing and losing that friendly competition.

What I treasured most was the chance to play like a child again (though sometimes we were constantly reminded that we were instructors when we tried to break some rules). I even realized that "living a life" is like playing a game -- we have to take calculated risks ... we even have to gamble.

We, at times, even have to trust unfamiliar faces, places or events (blindfolded or not) to guide us through equally unfamiliar waters. We even have to shout a shrieking "sure na!" even if we're utterly sure that we're not.

Though life isn't always fair sometimes, and though it doesn't always offer you the right chances at the right place and time, you still have to take part, no matter what happen. You simply need to know the rules, not to discover ways to break them, but to follow them. You should also have sufficient grace to face life's funny moments, and enough courage to brave yourself through life's black holes and head-breaking puzzles. You should always be prepared to smile, though with heavy heart, for it is not on how many life's battles you've fought that counts, but on how you faced life's problems with dignity  and pride.

With the right perspective towards life - how to play it ... how to be a part of it ... and how and when to shout "Sure na!", and even say "I quit!" - we will surely be winners. That's our right. That's our privilege. That's the way gamblers play in this game called LIFE.

(07.23.2003)

Published in the Feature section of the Faculty STImuli

Vol VI, No. 2, September 2003 issue

The Crash

Below is a story I once wrote, and is intended to be a Declamation piece for our College's Foundation Day last August 30, 2000.  The story just ended up in my filling drawers since it was too long to be presented.

Hence sharing it here at last! It would be a waste if I won't post it here, too.

---oOo---

THE CRASH

 "Calling all passengers of 747, please proceed to Gate 5."

The electronic glass doors in the Paris Airways' futuristic terminal slid open as if at a silent command, as I hurried through it, determined to get away from the city and return home.

I was exhausted from the round of interviews that was held during the mad week of the Mid-Summer Midnight at the Grand Luxury Hotel, in which, I represented as one of the research journalists who were lucky enough to capture important facts for the CNN news. I wanted nothing more than to check in at my hotel and collapse, first in a warm bath and then in my comfortable bed.

In the surge of people, mostly wealthy tourists who flocked to the city, I collided with a man dressed all in black with quick, self-conscious glances, cursed with a bulbous, veiny nose, a splotched and warted complexion, and a slack, fleshy mouth, encompassed by pendulous jules. The man truly played beast to the stunning woman with him, who is younger to be his wife and seemed odd to be his daughter.

Then, "Calling all passengers of Flight 747, please proceed to Gate 5".

Readjusting the strap of my Versace shoulder bag, I push a curtain of my blue-black Asian hair, and shake my thoughts away, and rush through the ticket counter and then to my plane. I was seated in Seat 4B on the business class aisle of a luxurious Pan American 747.

As I settled on my seat, I observed the people around me. The man and the beautiful lady seated in front of me. They were talking something like a honeymoon in Paris. "Ah", I thought, "they were honeymooners!" The somebody behind me, with a hoarse, baritone voice said, "Political scientists classify the killings in Mindanao as the usual purge, that occurs after a change in power or of the hunger of power. It happened with your American Revolution, too"

"Oh, my", I thought, "not again. My country had gone crazy again." Then I realized that I already missed my hometown ... the green, green grass of home and all the memories it buried for fifteen years since the tragic death of my entire family. "Someday, I'll be in the Philippines again", I decided.

"Excuse me missu", I looked up and saw a puffy, middle-aged woman standing impatiently before me as she indicated the window seat. "That's my seat, girl!", she said with an English accent.

I twisted aside so she could get past me. "She looked like my mother." I mused. "Great day for a flight huh?" she asked gently. I just nodded, not wanting to start any conversation, bearing in mind what my father told me about not talking with complete strangers.

But she continued in a motherly voice, "You know, I married late, just three years ago and my first-born, my three-years old unico hijo is waiting for me. I haven't seen him for a couple of years because of my job. That's why I am s excited to go home and hug him in my arms again. You'll know it when you become a mother yourself." She smiled and asked, "What's your name child?"

"Leanne", I said with a smile and then she settled dreamily in her seat, perhaps thinking about her baby.

"Flight 747 is about to take off, please fasten your seat belt.", the plane attendant announced while the plane started trudging the runway.

The flight had been smooth since we left the airways. But, suddenly, a thug, a series of bumps and a deafening blast filled the air. Commotion was all around. Everybody panicked. The stewards tried their best to pacify the passengers, but to no avail. I held my breath and prayed, "Oh God, please not today ... not this way". I felt a sudden fear inside me. Then the woman beside me started trembling. She rummaged her bag and found the rosary. But the plane started trembling. Another bump, and a thunderous blast that seemed so endless, shake the plane into turbulence. Then something hard and heavy from above me, dropped. I managed to glance at the woman beside me. She was lying beneath the fallen air vent, her hands stretched as if asking for help. Then I remembered mother during the accident, she was begging for help but to no avail.

"I have to help her!", I decided. But I can't move. My feet are aching, and I wasn't certain, which was worse, the pain in my ankle, or my terror?

The plane somersaulted like a possessed monster, careering down the sky at the speed of light, cutting in and out of the bulk of clouds, and turning up and down against the gust of wind. 

I gasped and closed my eyes, so tightly, that it hurts. "Please", I heard the woman's voice again, "Please don't let me die like this." She was already wet and bloody, and so darned scared. The she looked at me, pleading. "Please helppp me... I still ... have to ... live. I have to ... see my ... baby grow. Please ... God ... let me see my baby .. again ... Le...a..n..ne, pleaseee... helppp ... meee."

Then suddenly, I felt like there was a fierce storm. A giant wave had struck the ship and it was sinking. "I'm drowning",  thought, "I've got to get out of here!"

I flung out my arms and hit something. It was the side of a lifeboat, rocking and swaying. I tried to stand up, but hit my head on something hard. But in a moment of clarity, I remembered where I was. My face and hair dripped with perspiration. I felt giddy and my body is burning up. How long had I been unconscious? It was only an hour's flight. Was the plane about to land? "No!", I thought, "It's all right, I'm just having a nightmare, I'm in my bed in San Francisco, asleep. I'll call for my doctor."

I stopped. I could not breath, but I tried to glance and struggle upward to reach for the dying woman. But I sank down, my body leaden.

The plane hit a packet of turbulence and I was thrown against the fallen air vent. I lay there, dazed, desperately trying to concentrate. "How much time do I have to save myself ... and the woman?" I wavered between hellish and painful reality. "The woman. Somehow I have to save the woman. But first ... first ... I have to get myself out of here."

I touched my aching head and found that it was a terrible effort to lift it. "Not enough air!", I whispered. "I must have air!". I reached around the edge of my seat and fumbled for the lock of the safety belt, found it and unlocked it. It seemed to take an eternity. The gust of wind became cooler. I was freezing. My whole body begun to shake, and the constant jolting of the plane increased my dizziness. "I've got to hold on.", I thought. So I forced myself to concentrate. "What am I doing here? Something important ... yes ... the woman."

My vision was blurred and everything is moving in and out of focus. I'm not going to make it.

The plane dipped suddenly and I was hurled to the floor, scraping my hands on the sharp metal tracks. I held on while the plane bucked, and when it seemed to settle down, I forced myself to my feet again. The roaring of the jet engines was mixed with the roaring in my head. The woman. I must find and save the woman.

I stood there trying to remember what to do next. It was such an effort to concentrate. If could just lie down and sleep for a few minutes. I'd be fine. All I need is some sleep - but there was no time. We could die at any minute.

The plane began a stepper angle of descent. I know it would crash down at any moment. "I have to make a decision. There's something I should do to save myself and the woman."

But, the roaring in my head made it impossible to think. I remembered something like "If accidents happen, all you've got to do is focus. Don's panic".

It had sounded so easy then, sitting in the cool room of my college, listening to my first-aid instructor. Now it is impossible. I had no more strength left. The plane would crash and we would all be dead -- and I would be dead without doing something to save somebody ... just as I haven't done to save my mother.  "I'm sorry, I'm really very, very sorry..."

Then I felt a jolt beneath my feet as the plane touch the ground, and then another, and I was slammed backwards as the plane was thrust into the reverse, and a sound as loud as thunder filled the air, and balls of fire flashed like lighting.

My head was smashed against the floor, and I know it's all over. Silently, I prayed, "Oh God! At this very moment, I commend to You!"


(08.30.2000)
Idea from Eng'r PRC

That Which Makes Up Friendship

Friendship, by definition, is a heart-flooding feeling that can happen to any two persons who are caught up in the act of being themselves together, and who like what they see and do.  It is the inexpressible feeling of being safe with a person, having neither to weight thoughts nor to measure words.  The feeling is deeper than companionship - one can hire a companion, but never a friend.  It is never one-sided.

Friendship ... we know it when we feel it, but we can spend years to put it into words.

Suppose you are to complete this sentence in twenty-five words or less: "A friend is someone who ____." What would you say? How would you summarize your friend that way?

Most often, people complete the sentence with, "A friend is someone who is loyal". But, would it mean that he should walk in with you when everyone walks out? Would you take it to mean that he should be someone whom you can rely on and cry on ... whom you can trust?

Definitely yes! Those qualities should be found in a loyal friend - qualities that almost everyone ask for.

We both need "buffers" and "boosters" in our lives: buffers to reduce the pain of negative-response-producing events, and boosters to amplify the pleasure of positive-attitude-enhancing experiences.

Yet, some friend's notion of loyalty is to stand beside in adversity.  But the fact is, a friend can never be considered loyal when he only when soars along side with you when you're flying high. Neither can he be considered loyal when he only acts the "Big Savior" when you are needy and weak. Perhaps, a true friend should go hand-in-hand with you in times of troubles and triumphs. He should be ready to shout "Cheers!" and whisper "Cheer up" if time requires him to.

However, loyalty does not necessarily mean that one must go with his friend in doing things beyond what is right, just for the sake of being loyal. A loyal friend should drag him away from that "dark path", instead, rather than going with him and share the evil doings.  Loyalty needs many years to develop within the bounds of friendship. It needs both the "sugars and salts" of life to examine its authenticity, thus it takes two individuals to cherish it - where friendship could grow, develop and succeed.

Perhaps all of us need loyal friends to mold a true friendship, thus we should know first what loyalty means, and then, we could learn to be loyal to gain loyal friends.

(Date Unknown)

Published in the SJIT Collegian

Vol. XI, No. 2, Nov to March 1995-1996 issue

On Achieving Greatness

"Always give your best ... never be discouraged ... never be petty. Always remember, out of sufferings have emerged the strongest souls."

How often I used to come across such advise in all my readings. At least, it seemed often to me - too often. For a while, I accept it as being a good advice, yet to follow it is not just that easy.

Aiming and achieving greatness is just getting a hammer, but getting yourself pounded by that hammer. You should sacrifice and undergo sorrows and pains. You should carry your cross on your shoulders ... just like the square bamboos of Japan.

You might be wondering why I mentioned bamboos - and why the square bamboos of Japan? They were also round as ours are. They got the monocot leaves and grow tall, too. 

Chimonobambusa quadrangularis

The Japanese Square Bamboos are not just ordinary bamboos, but they were - once upon a time. Can you guess how they became square?

Well, they simply undergo some processes, transforming them into what they are now. During which they were still sprouts, they were being molded by putting four woods side by side, or cementing them squarely after applying some kind of acid solution.

During harvest time, all bamboos will be cut down for sale. The ordinary ones will be sold cheaply, and would be commonly used for fencing purposes. But the square ones would be so precious and would surely have devil-to-pay prices. They would be used as ornaments or pillars, and would be placed not in a corner, but in places where too many eyes would wander.  They could surely attract attentions the way they keep your mind wondering upon knowing that they exist.

Life, my dear friends, is just like those bamboos. We must undergo the transformation processes for us to be molded and fitted to what we want us to be. We should occasionally take some knocks to make us stronger enough to ruin the barriers towards greatness. We should feel the pain of the acidic problems  as it clings and burns our being, so that we could be squarely great in one way or another. We must be ready to accept criticisms, good or bad, to make us aware whether or not we are trudging the right path. We should also welcome and accept corrections to make us perfectly right. Finally we should trust God, for He alone, knows where we are heading to.  We should also inculcate in our minds that "God doesn't give trials beyond what we can bear. And if He does, He will provide a way out, so that we can stand up against it." (1 Corinthians 10:13)

Thus, greatness comes, not when all things go well for us. But greatness comes when we are really tested, when we take some knocks, some disappointments ... when sadness comes. Because only if we have been in the deepest valley can we ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain.

(Date Unknown)

Published in the Purview Section of the SJIT Collegian

Vol. XI No. 1, June - Oct 1995 issue

The Tiger is Born

Hi, welcome to the Flight of the Tiger!

This is a personal web log designed to contain just about any interesting thing under the sun — a means of sharing to you some famous poems that I've collected ever since yester years, my favorite quotes, and some of my articles that I happen to come across when I rearranged my bookshelf.   But the most "interesting part" depends on what drives you to open this page. :P

I provided you with some links that might catch your fancy.

I'll be updating this site from time to time but if you would like my posts mailed directly to your e-mail account, just drop me a line through the Email Me link provided herewith. You just need to specify the e-mail address to where you wish the columns sent, and don’t forget to put SUBSCRIBE ME in the subject line.

Explore and have fun!