Our Land – The Climb

Friends. Do you know Michelle from Getting Literal? She’s amazing. She’s got these incredible multi-faceted talents that include being a brilliant poet and also a hilarious advice columnist with her occasional alter-ego guest poster, the cranky Aunt Em. Michelle’s words speak for themselves and always blow me away. So, without further hoopla about how incredible she is, I present you today’s Our Land – The Climb.

The Climb

I climb. I grip hard and climb feverishly everyday. I climb upward, slowly but surely, towards the sometimes so elusive fount of empathy.

As I climb towards the fount, I appreciate the painful yet lasting beauty that is life I always get to see and experience.

I grasp painful memory rocks that sometimes cut and scour.

Yet a firm grip, moving ever upward, allows me to see and appreciate lovely scenes of beauty, acted out by people who understand. Scenes that are formed by the painful, yet valuable lessons of life.

At the first vantage point of my climb, I see my eleven-year-old self in an English Classroom in an all girls convent, seated in front because of my sheer small size. I hear the teacher moving ahead with an explanation of the word “cute,” which she defines as “ugly but adorable.” She asks every girl in class who would fit that description.

All fingers point at me.

I run out at recess, seat myself in the canteen, and eat alone, quietly smiling as my classmates run by, screaming “ugly but adorable.” Miss Chin, the teacher, hears what happens and comes towards me. She  apologizes for teaching the word “cute” in class. I tear as she assures me that I am one of her cleverest and most adorable students.

At this first point, Miss Chin shows the emotional damage of tactless mistakes, especially on a child. Yet she teaches the wonderful value of self-esteem and appreciation by extending the assuring hand of empathy.

I move upward, gripping hard as I come to the next vantage point. My little legs have grown, though not by much. I am now nineteen, studying for a Correspondence Law Degree.

I see myself at dinner after my course, suddenly unable to grip a fork as I try to use it to secure some noodles. I walk home after dinner, unable to sustain my balance, and collapse at the side of the road.

I manage to make it home, to parents who think that I am  faking the instability to get attention.

My grandmother, who sees me having headaches and losing my grip in the true sense of the words, rushes me to a clinic where I am diagnosed by a neurologist as having two pituitary brain tumors.

I see my parents being scolded by her for thinking that I was fooling. I see them now, still struggling to come to terms with me having to work through the condition.

At the vantage point, I discover the rareness of empathy and understand, painfully, why it is sorely needed. Yet, I also appreciate those who take the time to perceive. To understand. To CARE.

I grip hard, climbing, slowly but surely, to my final vantage point. I see myself as a music teacher, losing a whole set of students’ thumb drives needed for an important examination.

I see my colleagues’ baffled faces. Faces of those not able to understand why my Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder brought about by the brain tumors I had would cause me to rush or make slips and oversights.  My own face, in tears, unable to explain myself to them because these faces would not smile in understanding.

But as I reach this point of the climb, I learn from these colleagues that we cannot get that understanding unless we try to empathize with ourselves and others. That we cannot expect others to empathize with us, unless we communicate.

Such is the climb of empathy, arduous, yet beautiful. Wonderful.

The climb of empathy is a climb of patience and willingness to relate to others. It is also the willingness to listen, persevere and resiliently move forward.

Here is a poem that, hopefully, captures the essence of the spirit of empathy.

An uphill climb

Grasping tiny mounds of Earth that slip
For face of empathy, beseech
Shaky, distant, forever so to reach
Finding firm and stable grip

Moving upward, still so slow
Fighting, climbing, grit at hand
Fumbling, kicking useless sand
That stumbles now the forward go

Reach up to His echo, fully heard
Climbing, grasping stones in place
Move to sound of every word

To soul filled with astute grace
At the the top, spirit now assured
By Understanding’s wonderful face.

Have a blessed week, everyone!

—

Indeed. Have a blessed week, everyone. I told you that Michelle was gifted. Plus, she lives in Singapore, which I’ve heard is beautiful and amazing from so many people now that I may need to go and find out for myself soon. It’s one of the places I’ve never been. Now, go check out Michelle immediately. Here’s a bit more about her:

Michelle Liew of Muses from the Deep (http://www.gettingliteral.com) is a fiction fanatic, poetry lover, music fan and simply loves musing.

She also has an undying fetish for pets and has two rambunctious dogs, Misty and Cloudy.

If she’s not doling out a poem, you’ll find her at the beach with them!