Power lifts. That’s what I call those moments that unfailingly snatch one from slipping or succumbing into a negative frame of mind.
Last week, it came in the form of a book shared by a good friend. Entitled “The Art of Simple Living,” by Shunmyo Masuno, a Japanese Zen monk, the foreword was not only exceptionally brief but also provided the answer, that to live simply, one just needs “a shift in your habits and perspective.” Perusing the first few pages which summarized the different practices, I mistakenly thought that I had understood most of the one-liners, up until I read the book in its entirety. Some required deeper reflection and deliberately setting these aside for a later date, chose the ones that resonated, which effortlessly succeeded in bringing back cherished memories of people who knew how to live by them and of recent experiences in the past two weeks that provided opportunities for a renewed sense of self-awareness.
“Take pleasure in your work.” He was designated by the bank to be my father’s driver. Mang Ruping was exceptional.
He would unfailingly show up on time for work, properly attired and groomed, always ensuring that the car was spotless and in good running condition, alert to every need that would arise from the people he drove for. He was always respectful, never overstepping boundaries, and on occasion, would make us feel extra important, remembering our birthdays and bringing gifts from home or long trips from the north. Best of all, as a family, we took comfort in knowing that with him behind the wheel, my father’s life would never be endangered. He had that air of quiet dignity and peace that clearly spoke about how he took pride in what he was doing.
“Seek out the sunset.” Last week, on an ocular trip to Pampanga for a forthcoming convention, we found ourselves caught in traffic and got lost following directions from an app. After making a biological pitstop, rather than feeling anxious about the unexpected delay, we decided it would be best to just enjoy the moment. Retreating into our personal spaces, we lapsed into a comfortable silence to savor a friend’s playlist. Emptying my mind of any thought, I happened to look up to see a picture-perfect view of the sky, adorned by a cloud that was trying its best to partially block the tail end of a rainbow and a sun that was about to set. Taking a deep breath, a sense of calm and gratefulness took over. Everything was going to be all right.
“Make people happy.” A few days ago, a sibling had given me the responsibility to shop for the prizes that were to be raffled off for the company’s anniversary. I called her administrative assistant to accompany me to ensure that things would be quickly accomplished, as she had a fair idea about what the employees wanted and needed. Watching her carefully select the pieces unexpectedly brought on a huge wave of satisfaction. Unused to doing anything that was not medically related, I felt extremely fortunate to be temporarily placed in a position to make someone truly believe that wishes do come true.
“Serve people.” I told my secretary that I was ready to see the next patient. Looking up from the chart, a young girl walks confidently toward me beaming. It took me a few seconds to recognize her. Close to six months ago, she was wheelchair-borne. She had been referred by the surgery and intensive care services for co-management of her condition: Potts disease, more commonly known as spinal tuberculosis. Fortunate that their surgeon was part of our institution, the decision to move from a private to a government hospital was made. Everyone is well aware of how costly such a procedure would entail. Her mother and her doting aunt happily relayed that she had been doing well and was compliant with the medications.
“Try your best to do what you can now.” One morning, the owner of a salon that we frequently visit called to ask if there was a way to lend assistance to a priest whose friend has a child with congenital heart disease and is in need of surgery. They had gone back to their home province to procure the needed funds but were clueless about how to proceed. Asking for the patient’s records, an endorsement letter was shared. To my pleasant surprise, it was signed by the same point person that I was planning to approach. Making a quick phone call, the problem was solved. Thank God for well-meaning and selfless friends. He intended to make the world smaller for us, after all.
Amid the noise of daily living, it is essential that we consciously make time, no matter how brief, to constantly live by these practices. There are no rigid requirements, save for having the belief and faith in the power of simply doing good.
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