[lamchopz]

Chapter 2: Maxim

“I do believe you don’t have any interest in boys”, I cautioned.

The person spoke, for the first time, somehow bemused by my remark, “I think we can run a little test”. Emptiness echoed in his voice.

“It’s the hollow in you that I’m conversing with, isn’t it?”

I was right. His cunning reply was only bare words.

“Tell me, my good man, are there stars in the sky tonight?” his voice, so exhausted before, miraculously found a path to ascension, albeit transient.

My eyes ran across the serene and lucid sky. The only constellation I could spot was the Southern Cross, and this in itself answered his question.

“A stranger once told me that when the ambient objects, however palpable they are, elude your consciousness, reality is surely loathsome”, I reiterated the famous line which greatly contributed to the life of philosophy I had avidly led.

It was a fortuitous meeting earlier that had engrossed my life in the subject of ethics and moral logics, and given me the equivocal remark above. My schools camping trip in a suburban area, intriguingly, turned out to be the first turning point of my life. It happened less than three years ago, when the innocence which characterized my childhood gradually receded and in its place, the understanding of a complex world rapidly emerged. The scenery was the initial highlight of those days, as I was always fascinated by the geographical spectacles that only the hands of Mother Nature could possibly create. One day, we organized a “small-scale” expedition and each found their own way to explore the campus. A few groups of three took shape and the rest departed with the body and heart as their sole companion. In my lone path, the sound of water jumping off the rocks led me to the waterfall – the site that marked our first day of visit, but it was insipid then, owing to the tumult of people crowding in for a better spot only to walk away, apparently in a failed attempt to catch something of grandeur to them. The picture changed its color, though, when I was there on my own. It was the feeling that would tell a person to roam no further, as it did to me. And I bowed to its request.

The fall somehow was tenderer. I could hear the rhythm of the water droplets dancing on one another, all throwing their way to the guidance of gravity. It was like listening to Apollo’s golden lyre – if calmness did not bloom in the core of my heart at that time, the sensation would be something heavenly. In that vast space of tranquility, my mind started to drift, slowly inwards until it met my inner self, constantly locked away, unexposed even to those whom I held dear. The undisturbed demeanor that I put on each day was the prison, the suppressant – whatever you call it – of a rebellious youth. Suffice to say, it was natural for a fifteen year old to be wild, occasionally, but it was strange for him to be composed all around the clock. Austerity was more abhorrent than it seemed.

“What do we have here, a young lad admiring the waterfall? ‘Tis something we don’t see these days…” an alien voice caught me off guard; in shock, I shuddered.

The image of a man, most likely a local, materialized as I turned to face him – and I had thought I was alone. In his sixties, the colloquial speech and the casual clothes still couldn’t hide his avuncular appearance – his eyes indisputably haloed the wisdom of an eminent academic.

“Pardon me, sir, but your presence was… unexpected”, I did not know what else to say.

“I, thus, should be invited, shouldn’t I?” the colloquialism evaporated, just as I foresaw.

“Err… no… I don’t think it is necessary. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“Of all the people I’ve met, you’re one of those rare beings who try to attract regard. So please don’t burden yourself with such a thought.”

“I’m pleased to hear it, sir. Do you live around here?”

“I do, indeed. What brought you here, son?” his grin broadened.

“The school camp.”

“No, what guided you to this lonesome site is what I asked”, his tone amplified so to reinstate the query.

I paused. For a second, I was certain my eyes had tried to evade his.

“Tell me, son, what do you like the most about this place?”

“Solitude”. A sigh followed.

“Then how much of your world do you want to be real?” came the reply.

I was startled. “Real”? “What about it and my world?” I asked myself, looking blankly at the air between our bodies.

“When the ambient objects, however palpable they are, elude your consciousness, reality is surely loathsome”, the man spoke, didactically, rhetorically.

I looked back at him, even more puzzled, “Forgive my limited knowledge but what are you trying to say, sir?”

“The answer lies in the question you’ve avoided before.”

I instantly understood that his question early on was an erotema (or erotesis) – a type of rhetorical questions which implied an answer rather than sought one itself.

“Erotesis eludes me just as much, sir”, I responded apathetically.

“Shall we disambiguate it then?”

“My interest in the truth is waning, sir, should this conversation digress any further”, I could no longer conceal the excitement of finding out what the man really meant.

“A litotes user, very interesting” he exclaimed, obviously seeing my attempt to downplay the fact that his wisdom had now engaged me more than ever, “and you are yet to tell me why you came here, my young fellow.”

“I followed the sound of the water”, said I.

“And you claimed you were guided by solitude.”

“Yes, I suppose so…”

In a flash, the totality of my speech was abruptly seized by the irony the person pointed out. His comment was sarcastic, and I responded to it – a fool, I was.

“So this is what he meant…” I mumbled. Caught in hilarity, I found that the murmur was still comprehensible to the man whose attention had always been locked on me.

That did not bother me any more, because I discovered the connotations of his words. Why should solitude be my companion when another presence helped lay my path? I came here by the musical notes of the waterfall, with the desire to seek tranquility and befriend nature. The failure to acknowledge the other beings – living or inanimate – was the antecedent of the unreality of my world. It was all due to the troubled heart that clouded my vision, my capacity to sight the material world, and instead search for the fantasy within the fantasy of my thoughts. Because reality, to me, was only hateful.

“I may have talked too much, but allow me to convey a final message: perfection lies not within the thorough sophistication that you have demonstrated, but selective compliance with current societal functions. Do not deny the youthfulness that blossoms from within. Nor promote the malice that pertains to your thirst for enjoyment thereafter. It’s all about balance”, the voice faded as it graduated to the end. In my momentary preoccupation in his veracious maxim, the man had long retreated into the woods, somewhere unbeknown to the mortal world of ceaseless struggles.

A spark of light imploded within me. And came the something I had never truly felt before…

Peace.