Have you ever experienced sitting next to someone inside a jeepney, who has got her mouth close to your ear while she is talking loudly to another party on her phone? I hope not. How about people who refuse to use earphones while they listen to their favorite shows, playing at full volume, oblivious to the cramped cabin of a jeepney? For many of everyday commuters, born to inherit the scourge of public transport, these are but two samples of a torturous everyday reality.
To add, because we generally are a timid and decent people, a direct confrontation would be deemed not worth it, so that the end result of this would usually just be … chill. As the song goes, Que sera sera. What will be, will be.
Up till now, I am still quite confused. A rainbow of emotions ranging from I can’t believe this guy, to how-dare-you, and let-it-go just breathe deeply, all these alternately run through my head. Others must have read these on my face clear as day, because I often notice the sympathetic stares of some passengers. It’s almost like being taken out by the friendly neighborhood bully and all the bystanders could do was, stand and watch. But really now, already-resigned to keeping a tight rein on my feelings, I sulkily look away, as in this case, the woman’s voice, like an invasive send-to-all e-mail, banshees its way into my head.
“There are graver things that await in the horizon and we shouldn’t become too de-sensitized enough, we’ll turn our heads on them too. Forget the jeepneys, how about obnoxious people in high places. Shall we then look away?”
I have just come to realize that I’ve written about this so many times, a long time ago, but so what? Nothing has changed, people. Perhaps I should be just like the young gens of today who sport humongous headphones and dark Sunnies to protest this mild anarchy going on and at the same time, also to enjoy their own version of a peaceful ride.
Alas for others like me, the only option is plain-old coping even though it’s not exactly a solution to the problem. Should every poor commuter be held hostage to the shotgun blast, one-way ranting of other fellow passengers? If by chance, someone goes out of their way and confronted these obnoxious members of the specie, I’ll just nod approvingly and give them the thumbs up or the Korean hand sign for heart. In short, my fighting days are over. That’s as far as my audience participation will go.
Of course I know that what we are is molded largely by culture: how we were raised, where we hail from, influences of school, religion and people we’ve interacted with, etcetera. In this context, what particular page of that voluminous tome of experience is the little briefer on empathy?
It may all seem funny when one hears about these situations happening to other people, but the fact that it happens, on a day-to-day at that, tells us that noisy passengers are one thing. There are graver things that await in the horizon and we shouldn’t become too de-sensitized enough, we’ll turn our heads on them too. Forget the jeepneys, how about obnoxious people in high places. Shall we then look away?
Many years ago, my young son and I happily jumped into those iconic bump cars, the ones you can now only find at carnivals during fiestas. Instead of engaging other riders in one-on-one bumping contest (the essence of bump car-ship), we raced each other instead, far from the rest who were battling it out at the center, choosing to hug the rails which rounded the length of the arena.
Just when we were almost at dead heat and shouting with child-like excitement, a bell suddenly rang and our cars slowly skidded to a halt. Grudgingly, we pulled ourselves from out of the small cars. The entire amazement and magical moment of our brief bumper race is only betrayed by the surprise look on my young man’s face and that said it all. Whaaat?
In another memory, our group’s performance tour was at an end. The train that was taking us directly to Frankfurt airport was like all Deutsche machinery, punctual to a fault. A pretty passenger in front of us was asking me, “so, you must be very excited to go home?
“I merely smiled and said ‘Ja’, but in truth, I was not. In fact, I still didn’t want to go home as yet. As we swished on, I remembered that I had wished then this train missed our stop and proceeded on to Paris or traveled on forever. Yet, the countdown to get off reached zero and my feet painstakingly hit the platform… So, unlike the sudden halt of the bump car, our train had a warning of its own: a clock overhead which called out our ETA. Minute by painful minute.
There’s this poignant lyrical poem by the Brazilian poet, Mario D’ Andrade, My Soul is In a Hurry. Please allow me to quote a few.
My Soul is in a Hurry
I have counted my years and realized that I have less time to live than I have lived so far. I have more past than future.
I feel like this child, that received a box of candies. After fast indulging the first ones, all the sudden realizing, that there are not so many left, and those should be better appreciated and truly enjoyed.
I do not have time for endless gatherings where statutes, rules, processes, and internal regularities are discussed, knowing, that nothing will be achieved.
I don’t have time anymore to bear absurd people, who despite their age have not grown. I don’t have time anymore to fight the mediocrity.
I don’t want to participate in conversations, where inflated egos are parading. I can’t stand manipulators and opportunists. I am annoyed by those envious people, who seek to discredit the most able, in an attempt to take over their position and seize their talent and success.
My time is too short to discuss headlines. I’m aiming for the essential, as my soul is in a hurry – not so many candies left… “
See the connect yet? I only wish for a ringmaster shouting out the numbers, while I bide every precious second. A bump car bell, without warning is a bummer.
Life goes on. Now, I must have heard and read that quote a thousand times. Uttered by a lot of wise people whom I still believe, know better and mean well. In the same breath, I also must have known many friends and acquaintances who have heard this said to them and at that, a majority has confided, that’s easier said than done. One even got irritated during the passing of his mom, saying angrily, how do you even know how one feels?
My late sis once told me, don’t worry about it, if not for anything else, it’s merely “pakikiramay” (or a gesture of condolement), so don’t feel offended.
“Like many old people, we must have had our own share of loss, both small and major-major. During a loss at a ball tournament perhaps. one can say, Life goes on. And that’s that. In a week’s time, you would have forgotten the pain. But the loss of a love one? It’s understandable that to say ‘life goes on’ would sound so presuming and incur a glare from those deeply affected. So there.”
I’ve been schooled by some empathetic people, my sister included, we have l to understand, not everyone has the gift of words (or is it gab?). Who knows they’re just parroting it, having heard or seen it in the movies. Yet again, they mean well.
As for those few who still can’t get over that, life goes on is translatable into a lot of fine tuning. Whining over trivial matters is a waste. For that matter, even the bigger ones heal through time.
My close friend in Rizal sent me this short piece.
Do not tell me you’re having a bad day. Others have it worse than you. Stop looking at the glass if it is glass half full or half empty. Just drink it anyway and stop complaining. Despite all, always keep in mind that you are still here. For that, be thankful.
Even as this hits deep, other sayings related to Life goes on are just there for the likes.
ZDogg, MD had said once, LinkedIn and Twitter are among the highest quality scientific journals, next only to FB and IG. It is here where life goes on indeed and loss is just a four letter word.
