Thank you, Joel (the final version of Grace)

Grace

I am reluctant to tell you this, but
there is death in the Old Testament,
numerous and final, bodies drowned
and unredeemed, forty days, forty nights
of rain, somebody struck by wrathful
lightning, Philistines in a city destined
to fire and ruin. There is even a chapter
that forbids merriment, a law permitting

crucifixion. But it is also written
that we should be happy, full of praise
and ready for the dance, prophecies allowing
for water to mean wine, the once-blind
witnessing this and other miracles. The way
we may still rise up to the music, like we did
not too long ago, forty years now, and how
we are again tip-toeing toward grace, life.

For Jet

Diving Lessons

There I was in my borrowed diving suit that was way too long for me, flippers that made me feel like a duck out of the water, masks that magnified half-of my face, all the paraphernalia in place for the wanna-be diver.

As I sat there waiting for the day's lessons to begin, I wondered how much longer it would take so that that wet suit finally becomes like second skin and all motions become almost automatic. I know I am slowly getting there. By slowly, I mean really slowly. But as it was, I have already absorbed quite a bit, only that I am not sure if the things I learned are the kind that would get me that license. Hmm, let's see.

Lesson no. 1: The art of falling

The lesson that day was entering the water from a controlled-sitting position. Chicken feed, I thought. Down went classmate number one--"very good," the instructor said. Classmate number two hesitated a bit, needed a little assurance, but off she went—"try it again, do better the next time," the instructor said. Looks easy enough to me, after all, there is no hard science to falling, you just, well, fall.

And then it was my turn. The star student (I say this with a little irony of course). Haha!

Instructor: So ok, plant your wrist firmly on the ledge, half-turn, pivot, let go, and push.
Me: Ok, step 1, wrist, step 2, turn, step 3, pivot, step 4…
Bubble over my head: Am I hearing you right? Let go?!? Let go?!?

Instructor: No, no, you hesitated; you prevented your fall with your wrist. Do it again.
Me: Hmm, how’s that again?
Bubble over my head: You idiot, just let go, how difficult can that be.

Me: So, ok, step 1, wrist, step 2, turn, step 3, pivot, step 4…
Instructor: Stop thinking, just do it. Let go!
Me: Ok, give me a second.
Bubble over my head: Me? Stop thinking? Let go? Hay, tell me about it.
Instructor: (almost exasperated) Try it again. What are you afraid of? You won’t sink…just LET GO!
Me: Ok…ooops, sorry…
Bubble over my head: The analogy of my life playing out right here, right now…hekhekhek…I can almost see my friends hysterically laughing at this conversation…

Ok, so I was being a smart aleck the whole time, to cover up for my fear. But it made me uncomfortable afterwards, to be confronted by a fear I did not know I have. I figured, there must be a reason for that hesitancy or unwillingness to let go and just fall.

Lesson no. 2: Taking the plunge


I remember a conversation I had with an officemate. We both shared the opinion that that team-building exercise thing that companies do, the one where you fall like a log into the safety net of other members’ arms, that won’t work for our small office of control freaks.

It is not an issue of trust. I know I am lucky enough to be surrounded by people ready to catch me, people I can trust with my life even. But I firmly believe that my well-being is my responsibility. And besides, in reality, you can’t keep expecting other people to break your fall. Best you can do is try not go off the edge. Or at the very least, slip off it as gracefully as you can, without making a big splash of it.

It is not an issue of safety even. It was not a deep pool, if anything should go wrong, there were people around who can come to my rescue in a minute.

It is an issue of control. Because once you are suspended in mid-air, even for just a split second, you have no control; you can only flap your arms and unsuccessfully wrestle the control out of the wind.

Lesson no. 3: Taking measured steps

Well, it is a good thing then that I am taking scuba diving lessons and not that kind of diving where you jump up and down on a diving board and then DIVE, head or feet first, all the way down. (My mom actually thought that THAT was the kind of diving I was doing when I first told her about it—hahahaha).

Because this kind of diving I am going for, it is all about measured, methodical steps. From checking your equipment, donning the suit, vest, tank, and then cleaning them afterwards, it is all about step-by-step process.

More importantly, in this kind of diving, you just don’t deflate and sink; you do it a foot at a time; deflate, sink down a little, stop, equalize, slowly go down another foot deeper, stop, equalize. Equalize being a key term here.

That is easy enough; I have been doing it all this time, on dry land.

Lesson no. 4: Controlling buoyancy


I am absolutely enthralled by the concept of buoyancy. In diving, they explained the importance of controlling and achieving negative, positive and neutral buoyancy. In simple terms, one is positively buoyant when they can keep their head above water; negatively buoyant when they sink; and neutrally buoyant when one is neither above nor below water—that state of being neither here nor there.

So when that big wave that brought unexpected death to the family uprooted and threw us into very deep waters, some just sank, fast, with every wave of grief. They hit rock bottom but the wailing of disbelief could still be heard from shore.

While some of us tried to gain, in divers’ lingo, positive buoyancy. When it happened, I grabbed hold of that vest that keeps you afloat and put the regulator in my mouth. And then I released a bit of air, sank a little, and then I breathed, deep, breathed that air in, exhaled, inhaled, took measured breaths, never holding my breath, because they said you get injured that way, when you try to hold in so much, for so long.

And I allowed myself to sink ever so slowly, always taking comfort in the fact that I can pretend to breathe normally even while water was way above my head.

So that until now, when others have long ago discarded the weights and have managed to swim back up, I haven’t quite reached the bottom or the bottom of it yet. I am here neutrally buoyant, allowing myself to just gradually sink, one breath at a time, one painful memory at a time, with the weights still strapped to my waist.

But does it really matter how long it takes to sink and swim back up, or how far or how deep you go? Because I figure that once you have been there at the bottom, things will never be the same on the surface again. You have invaded another world, another realm of experience.

You wipe off the water from your face and all of a sudden, you squint at the brighter lights, then that dead tree on the shore slowly comes into sharper focus, and everything else appears the same but you are not, because you lost something while you were under— maybe time, maybe a memory, maybe some pieces of you that you cannot regain.

Lesson no. 5: Leap of faith

I still have a few more lessons to go, more dives to complete before I get that license. But at the rate I am going, I could actually write another version of the diving manual.

Right now, I can’t wait for that lesson where you just take a giant step out of the boat and walk straight into thin air before falling into the water. I am excited to see how I would fare. I call it the Leap of Faith…and that is an exercise I still have to master.

I mark my change of address with these words, they are mine, some of them anyway. I gave Joel 5 randomly chosen words/phrases, chosen because I was preoccupied with my parent's 4oth anniversary, while some of the words were chosen for no apparent reason other than I liked them.

And so, in 30 minutes, from these few random words--Old testament, forty years, reluctance, tango and death-- he came up with...

GRACE

I am reluctant to tell you this, but
there is death in the Old Testament,
numerous and final, bodies drowned
and unredeemed, forty days, forty nights
of rain, somebody struck by wrathful
lightning, Philistines in a city destined
to fire and ruin. There is even a chapter
that forbids dancing and merriment,
and there is a law permitting crucifixion.

But it is also written that we should be
happy, full of praise and ready for music,
a prophecy that would allow for water
to mean wine, that the once-blind would
witness this miracle. The way we may still
sway to the Tango, as we did not too long ago,
forty years now, and how we are again
falling in love with grace. And life.

by Joel Toledo, one January evening, over cold beer