Insight

THE CIRCUMSTANCE

I drove my mom to the airport early morning of last Friday, August 7, 2009.  She was taking Cebu Pacific so on my way back home, I decided to take the Nichols exit, then head south at the South Luzon Expressway.

THE EVENT

At around 4:00 am, I cruised at about 90kph on the outermost lane of the expressway. And as I passed this 18-wheeler truck, I saw that it had suddenly swerved to its left.

I had no where to go but straight. A few moments soon after, I heard a loud bang on my right side. The truck had hit me on my right doors. At about 90kph, gravity took over instantaneously.

I recall hitting the brakes and feeling vigorous thuds on my feet. This must have been the anti-lock kicking in but to no avail, perhaps, because my car’s tail had already spun clockwise. For a brief moment, I was face to face with the truck’s front, and then moments later, I heard a loud crash coming from the back.

At this point my car had spun from the outermost to the innermost lane, 4 lanes across. The car had stopped moving and hit the concrete fence.

When I went out, I saw that the bumper had been torn. The trunk was completely disaligned. I looked at the two right doors and the rear fender. The collision had torn the metal like sheets of paper and exposed the side impact bars.

I also took a picture of the lower part of the car where I must have first had contact with the 18-wheeler. The picture below shows a tear.

ASSESSING THE DAMAGE

I knew I was not hurt. As my car twirled, I felt the force of the twirl pressing me tightly against my seat. I could only say to myself  “oh no” a few times, but not enough time for my life to be flashing right before my eyes.

I went out of the car, shaking and knees trembling. There before me was the sight of the 18-wheeler. 3 men slowly climbing down and looking underneath. The driver had said that they already lost their steering guide and was already heading for a collision with the pylons.

I don’t recall anyone from their group coming to me and asking if I was hurt. All I could ask them was what happened. The driver, whom I later knew to be Mang Ed, said that they had lost steering and was fast heading towards the skyway pylons. Somehow the collision reset them back to the center lane where they could brake safely.

It sounded like the misfortune actually saved their lives.

REPARATIONS and REACTIONS.

I’m inclined to talk about the reparations at a later blog. Suffice it to say that it took me a while to speak to the owner of the freight truck but got to an agreement about repairs.

i surprised myself during this incident. The thought that i got out of it unscathed made me control my emotions even more. I wasnt angry. I think I was more into the problem solving mode. I wanted to make sure that I got the paper work filed. I also wanted some closure about how to proceed with claims and other related stuff.

I was able to drive my car to my friend who owns a collision repair shop. I had last seen him years back when I was involved in another traffic accident.

MY MENTAL REPLAY

The drive back home was quiet. I called home to tell my loved ones that I had been involved in an accident and that I was fine.

Then the what-ifs set in.

During the quiet drive, I had a good time to reflect about my concerns: debts, obligations, and other worldly stuff.

And then, there was family and loved ones. What if? How would the news be broken? What happened if the outcome had turned out differently? What if I survived and yet suffered a disability?

One thing was certain, I was safe. I was alive. I was unhurt.

I was thankful; grateful for receiving a new lease on life.

I called my friend Omy, and thanked him for selling the car to me a few years back. Had he not done so, and all things being equal, I would still have driven my old car when that accident took place.

I was just so thankful that the car I drove ensured my safety.

THE MESSAGES I GOT.

I have only been able to tell this story to a few of my friends. Of course, they were worried. And still they were able to insert a quick funny jab like: “Bad grass lives long, glad you are safe.”

Most of the messages were along these lines:

• “Go to church and say your thanksgiving.”
• “The Lord loves you.”
• “Miracle.”
• “Thank God you’re safe.”
• And of course, my loved ones had an outpouring of their love and affection.

Mel, my landlady said that I had been RESET.

WHAT I THINK RESET MEANS

When my Mac’s performance becomes erratic, i reboot it. I hope that after I reboot, the unit goes back to its right performance; that it performs as intended.

What I got last friday was a reset; a return to original configurations:

• perhaps to listen more than hear;
• to notice more than see;
• to speak more than talk;
• to pay more attention than seek it;
• to be grateful rather than just be thankful;
• to be more thoughtful than dutiful;
• to be more giving than exacting;
• to be more contrite than sorry;
• to celebrate more and worry less;
• to be more worshipful than routinary;
• to feel more than think;
• to surrender more and trust myself less.

I think I recall when the resetting happened. This was when I spun out of control and held on. Since there was nothing I could do, I surrendered and trusted that all will be well.

The Ateneo Graduate School Family planted trees last November 23 at IPO Dam in Norzagaray, Bulacan. The project is a part of a series of activities for Cura Kalikasan (Care for Nature) under Prof. Rachel Consunji.

Getting there. 

Getting to Norzagaray was quick. A short cut took us from Katipunan to Novaliches in less than 15 minutes. On a regular day, that trip would have taken us about an hour. 

Faculty, staff, and students boarded two mini-buses. We also had trip guides from Hands-on manila with us on the buses.

I was not quite sure what to expect since this is my first time to IPO Dam. 

Getting on a boat. 

The planting site was about 15-minutes by boat. I was not prepared for a change in weather. The days prior to this had been extremely hot and sunny. So why would this Saturday be different? 

Mother nature had something else planned. When we boarded the bancas, rain started to pour down. Blessing in disguise perhaps, because if we planted during high noon, it would have been hot and difficult to bear. 

Getting past clean. 

The planting site was already muddy and slippery because of the rain. When we got there, we were sure to get dirty. The thing with the soil is that it looks dirty. But when you get past the “looking good and staying clean,” then things start to be fun and purposeful.

I started counting seedlings at first. But after my first five seedlings, then the perspective changed. It wasn’t about numbers anymore.

It was about:

• being with others 
• duty to care for the environment
• water that I was drinking  and yes, perhaps wasting at home
• atonement for transgressing Mother Nature
• exercise (yes!) 
• being grateful that my calling was not to till the soil 
• thankful for the wonderful nature I had all around but had little time to notice
• embracing the soil that would welcome me when I die 

Getting all cleaned up.

The experience was difficult. The terrain was totally inclined. It was very difficult to navigate and stay balanced on both feet. So I crawled, slipped, cut myself until the end of the exercise.

At one point I kept slipping, almost hurting myself and others (i held on to things and people; at 200 pounds, i took everything with me everytime I fell or slipped). Then a random thought crossed my mind.

I understood my brother-in-law, Vic, who was in the mountains as a uniformed officer.  If I were in his place, I would be killed. Perhaps these were the same conditions he would have navigated when he and his team went on missions in the countryside. Perhaps, the conditions were worse. In this terrain, I had none of his skills.

Going home. 

I head home humbled by nature, this time more aware about what goes into the water I drink. Although I planted more or less 30 seedlings, what I did will not change the world. My hands are too feeble to cause global warming to stop. 

Perhaps if we all had opportunities for these experiences, feeble hands can combine and make a difference in this world. 

I have a greater respect for the soil now. It’s because on this day, the soil provided me with personal nourishment and growth.

Although I went home dirty and soiled, there was nothing water could not wash away.  

Except, perhaps,  the memories and lessons from this trip.