One summer back in the 1980s, I traveled with a group of friends to Sagada. We climbed a hill, and when we got to the top we had a most breathtaking view. One of my companions looked out and called out, “Fresh air!”—and then inhaled deeply on his cigarette.
He was the butt of our jokes for weeks afterward. At that time the campaign against smoking was still developing, but many young people—we were still young then—already had strong views about the issue. I was actually still a smoker then, but would put my cigarettes away when I was with nonsmokers. I understood smoking as not just a personal health issue, but also an issue involving the right of others to be spared from the smoke, and the right to a clean environment.
For some time now I’ve been thinking about that “fresh air” encounter in Sagada each time I see hordes of bikers in Nuvali, Laguna. Ayala Land, the developer, has pledged to keep many parts of Nuvali green, and this has attracted many bikers on weekends. They’re all decked out in safety gear, and you can tell they probably get a real high as they bike.
But one thing I have noticed is that some of them are smokers. Some smoke while biking, others smoke during breaks, inhaling deeply and, I can almost imagine, thinking, “Ah, fresh air,” while they flick the ash or discard the cigarette butts by the wayside.
Fads and fashions
That, sadly, is what happens when there are fads and fashions, as biking has become for some people. For some it has become a personal endeavor, an “I feel good” activity, even with a tinge of environmental awareness resulting from the communion with nature and the great outdoors. But not everyone understands the contradiction between biking and smoking as an activity that pollutes one’s body, as well as the people around one, and the environment.
It’s not just biking that is marked by the contradiction. There is a whole physical-fitness movement that concentrates on the individual, on the self. There are all kinds of activities offered, from weightlifting to pole-dancing to yoga to jogging to zumba.
Many health buffs do understand that smoking contradicts the whole spirit of physical fitness, but others don’t quite make the connection and, again, smoke during breaks. I have friends who tell me of still another twist: of people who are concerned about physical fitness and nutrition, and shun anything “unnatural.” Organic is in, and this is extended, in the strangest way, to taking marijuana. Shabu is “bad” because it’s synthetic; marijuana is fine because it’s “natural,” because it’s organic. Presumably, marijuana growers do not use pesticides or fertilizers.
I am aware of the debates around medicinal marijuana, which should be the topic of still another column, but my point for today is that we sometimes go into practices without understanding the ethos—the spirit—behind the practices.
Yoga, for example, was not originally for physical fitness in the sense of something to be done in gyms. Yoga was part of a philosophy of living, of bringing equilibrium to the body and its prana (or essence). Yoga also meant disciplining the body, and some of my readers who practice yoga know how intensive this can be.
The Chinese developed similar exercises such as taiqi, the “qi” referring to the “breath,” similar to the prana. It involved, again, disciplining the body, finding ways to integrate with nature.
Which meant, too, that all that cleansing of the body would be for nothing if you then pollute it with cigarettes, or with unhealthy foods.
Mount Everest
I decided to write today’s column after reading of the death of a number of Sherpa guides on Mount Everest in Nepal. The Sherpas live in the area of the mountain and, for centuries, climbing the slopes was just another routine part of life. Then western mountaineers came in.
You don’t speak of Sherpa mountaineers. Mountaineering grew out of a particular ethos in the West, one of conquering nature. One climbed a mountain because one wanted to conquer it. One had to be first to climb it—the first Filipino, the first woman, the first whatever, even if Sherpas have been doing it for centuries.
So the Sherpas came in, to guide these mountaineers, often going ahead to test the terrain and establish safer paths and trails. They did this for a living, and of course never got publicity for their climbs because it was the tourist mountaineers who would “conquer” the slopes. The earliest ones made it to newspapers’ front pages. These days the conquests are more mundane, with photographs to be posted on Instagram or Facebook, with the Sherpa guides in the background.
I worry about mountaineering in the Philippines. Mount Apo and Mount Banahaw have suffered from the garbage left behind by mountaineers. A recent brush fire on Banahaw was blamed on mountaineers, although my mountaineering friends say that has not been proven. They do acknowledge that there are “irresponsible” mountaineers, and are planning, in May, a “mountain cleanup” day.
I’ve thought about how the old saying “The spirit is willing, but the body is weak” has taken a new, sad twist: “The body is most willing, but there is no spirit,” which happens when people get into all these activities—the term “extreme sports” captures it all—motivated only by individual goals. If there is a group dimension to these activities, it is one of competition, of being the first to do something, of breaking the record set by others.
The fact that now you even have to have a mountain cleanup day shows that mountaineers and other outdoor enthusiast groups—from bikers to joggers—need to reflect on their activities, on the spirit behind their practices. Should these remain as individual fitness endeavors, or should they bring in a greater sense of awareness of kapwa, of others, including generations to come, who have the right to enjoy the environment, and the fresh air?
(E-mail: mtan@inquirer.com.ph)