The Quest of Heroes

She smiled as she stabbed at my vein and slowly drained the blood out of my body. I knew this would happen, but I was still surprised at the weakness slowly overcoming me. Just like in George R.R. Martin's novel, being offered food beforehand was no guarantee of sanctuary. In fact it was the prelude to this sanguine ritual only a few ever partake -- too few in fact. But I am myself to blame, for I chose to do it without regard of the risks. After a few minutes it was over. The blood, the life force, taken out of me is now stored in an arcane vial by these vampires (but more like Twighlight vampires than Underworld vampires) residing in this mystical cabal called the Deutsches Rotes Kreuz -- a very scary name if you don't understand it, I know. I thought it was finished but actually the danger was about to escalate, as I in my weakened state was led to a feast where nice-looking, smiling, aged creatures who resemble like grandmothers stuff you with all varieties of food. After my 3rd soup, and countless waffles, I managed to stagger out of the nightmarish cathedral of sorts, bloodied but overall alive. After a few steps I managed to smile; I've survived yet again the Ritual of Saving Lives or as some call it -- the Quest of Heroes.

Heheh :P

Less dramatic: For those of you who haven't donated blood yet but can, I encourage you to do so. Especially the ones who have Rhesus negative blood. You just might save a life. At the very least, you get free food :D

The fears of old men

I have turned 32 recently.  32 is a magic number in Philippine culture signifying one as being "lampas na ng kalendaryo" (having exceeded the calendar -- since there is only a maximum of 31 days in a month) -- a euphemism  for "being old".  And I have to admit it, I do feel old sometimes.

When does a man become old?  A common argument from us self-confessed philosophical types is that age is more of a mental state than a physical one.  It is a nice concept, for while one cannot prevent the progress of the years, it is somewhat possible for one to manipulate his views such that he can "think" and "feel" young.  And to some degree it is true.  One can see anecdotes of people who seem to have never lost the fire in their hearts and the glow in their smiles.   While at the same time, one can find people who seem to have aged too young -- their youth sapped away by the burden and responsibilities (both real and imagined) brought to them by life.
Aber trotzdem (yay I've inserted a German phrase here), one cannot deny that the age brought by time is concretely real as well.  Our joints become a little squeaky, our muscles more stiff, our eyes blurrier, our reflexes slower.   And while you feel all the degeneration your body is going through, you start to picture out how how things can only get worse -- lesser control of bowel movements, dementia, disability...and ultimately, death.

And perhaps that is why age for a lot of people manifest a terrible symptom called fear.  We've seen it, more so when we were young.  How some, greatly overcome by the fact that time is running out and there is much lesser room for mistakes, have become frozen in place.

32...and based on how things look, I have essentially crossed the midpoint of my life.  And I have started to develop my own set of fears.  I have crossed half my life, and see how so little of my dreams have yet to be accomplished.  I am often lost in thought thinking of how I can protect the future of my family, while at the same time seeing the prime of my mental and physical strength slowly decay away into middle age.  Sometimes I feel lost on what I am supposed to do.  Stuck in thought about how my decisions will pave the way to my grand plans.  Stuck sometimes about what to decide.  I am frozen in place.

Oh wait...I have let my fears control me again.  It's interesting, than when dealing with the uncertainty named "the future" I choose to despair.  In my youth, tomorrow is a day I cannot wait to come.  But now I try to prolong today and wish that tomorrow never arrive.  And yet the variables have remained -- of how in the blink of an eye a life can drastically change for the better or for the worse.  But the constants have increased -- knowledge, relationships (a little in my case as I have a lifelong problem of keeping friendships), experience...the all encompassing etc.
Even though I have more to lose, I have a much better capacity to regain.

With these thoughts there's only one satisfactory conclusion: I need to decide everyday to be a less fearful old man.

The man called Cracked Skull

"Be careful, he may be crazy but he can fight!" yelled the leader of the squad of the King's Shadows.

The man in tattered robes carrying a heavy war hammer on his shoulder laughed at hearing the word crazy.  He seemed like a child giddy with a secret only he knows.  To the squad leader, he did seem like someone with a child's mind.

The squad leader frowned, and slowly he transitioned into a guarded stance as his squad slowly encircles the man called Cracked Skull.  The squad leader did not seem afraid, but he did look cautious.  Ordered by the King himself, he was to hunt down the Heretics.  He asked himself now, if someone crazy can really be guilty of heresy.  Then again, anybody who does not conform to established beliefs is considered crazy, or worse, dangerous.  Heretics, the Priest King commanded, must be educated in divine wisdom.  The Captain, as the squad leader is known, finds it ironic that most of the education done was with the sword; and that the divine needs help from dirtied hands.  Yet he obeys, in the hope of ending this ravaging war started by people who claim, without compromise, that they are in the right.  Those people all belonged on his side.

The man called Cracked Skull laughed again.  He started coughing as he tried to stifle the laughter that seem to involuntarily come out of his mouth.  The laughter came out still, and when he clamped his mouth with his huge hands, the laughter came out below his body transformed as a long tooting sound so embarrassingly out of place in the current situation.  The man laughed so hard again while slowly his glassy eyes turned sharp with malice.

Time stopped.  No time just slowed.  But time is just a concept -- it does not exist.  And yet, time passes.

The Captain saw two of his men fall down, unable as they were to dodge the hammer swings of the man called Cracked Skull.  Elite warriors his men where, but it is as if they don't understand how the weapon comes.  Their quarry did not seem to move faster; in fact he saw everything in slow motion.  While his men's moves were confused, the man in tattered robes planted solid strikes to another three of his men.

The Captain was befuddled.  But then he understood as he smelled the putrid air suffocating the hall that was the battlefield.  There is no reality.  Only perception.  And something is causing him and his men to perceive the man's moves incorrectly.  Time is a concept of the mind, so it is not time that slowed down.  He can only conclude that his mind has sped up, and he is not accustomed to it.

The Captain woke himself from his philosophical stupor, as he saw the tip of the war hammer angle his way.  He executed the parry that will deflect the blow.  He watched in excruciatingly slow motion the hammer falling down, while his body moved along with the flow of his sword.  It took forever, but the hammer missed him; and his sword was already sluggardly moving to his opponent in what would have been a masterful counterattack.  But he was not a master of slow motion sword fighting.  Not yet anyway.  And basing on how the fight is going, perhaps never will be.

The man called Cracked Skull was nearly disemboweled with the Captain's sword.  But he was able to break his shock and side step the stab aimed at his guts.  Nobody was able to react like this to his assault before.  Did the Captain know of my secret? Looking at the man who almost killed him, he realized that his opponent didn't.  But for certain, he was figured out now.  Feeling for the first time in a long time that he is in danger, he quickly finished the rest of the King's Shadows before again facing the man one-on-one.

The Captain was standing alone.  And after a few but very long moments in his drugged state, he was lying in a pool of his own blood.  His new knowledge did not beget him mastery.  And in this fight, unfair as it was, he was the novice.  He looked into the Cracked Skull's eyes and was surprised to see... respect.  And sanity.  He saw the man walking away, confused that he was left alive.  

The Captain closed his eyes and meditated himself to deep rest.  He is tired, but he has more battles left to fight.  And some questions to ask of himself.

Goodbye Chris.

Perhaps the most important thing I have learned over the years is to be thankful.  Oftentimes I used to feel so self-important or so self-righteous that I concentrate more on being butt hurt for oh so many little nonsensical or unimportant things.  Imperfections dashed against my unrealistic ideals clouded my view -- my understanding of the surrounding beauty that is life which was in fact accentuated and not diminished by the fallibility that is part of humanity.

A nice person died today, and had I learned my lesson much earlier I probably would have known him a lot better.  And though familiarity sometimes breeds contempt, I really think we could have been good friends.   He could have been my friend instead of being just an acquaintance who somehow in the randomness that is life has become a significant even though distant part of mine.

So I just would like to say thank you Chris; meeting you have made me learned a lot of things about myself.  Made me realize a lot of my behavior and indirectly made me improve it.
And thank you for what you have done for my mother and my brothers.  For welcoming them and teaching them some about life.

From the bottom of my heart, "Thank you!"

Too late I know, and the words written here are perhaps more for my own sake than anyone else's.  All I can do now is pay it forward by being genuinely nice and helpful to the people around me -- and part of it is simply because, to us, you were.

R.I.P.  Christopher Dower 2013.