Feb 18 2023
A True Story
It was only 6 pm but it was already dark. I slowly found my way to Clod’s house guided by a sputtering of street lamps and house lights.
But I was confident. I’ve been to this place twice before. The only difference was during those two occasions, I was with Clod, my good friend and coach, who generously offered a room in his house for me to stay in.
I was 300 miles from home. I chose to be away so I can give the time and focus that this book deserved. Yes, this is my first book and everything is brand new and a learning experience. I met Clod 135 days ago, also in Boracay. We were classmates in a writing retreat facilitated by a mutual friend, Ardy. Clod moved his family from Manila to Boracay 10 years ago. Ardy did the same a year ago. In that short span of time, we formed a strong bond, and sincerely called each other Bro (for brother). When Clod went to Manila, I was his host for a night. This time, I was his house guest.
I was definitely outside my comfort zone to be here in Boracay, arguably paradise on earth. Boracay’s white sand beaches are frequently ranked among the world’s best, which is why I think there are days when tourists outnumber the locals. Maybe. But as the tourism ads proclaimed before, it’s more fun in the Philippines. And Ardy and Clod are proof, that you dont need to die to get to paradise. This was my spin on something I heard once: “Everybody wants to go to heaven, but no one wants to die, to get there.”
Back home in the hustle and bustle of metropolitan Quezon City, almost everything was predictable. Well, except the traffic. But inside my house, I knew where almost everything in the house. that is unless my wife, in her almost compulsive quest for orderliness, placed something i purposely left so organized on the floor. Maris, my tireless and beautiful wife, routinely picks things up, places them inside an unmarked box, and the box goes somewhere I dont expect. On many occasions, I had to open many boxes, taking out 100 items, looking for that one thing I left on the floor. Even then, I was almost always in control, seldom lost or stuck. Except for my book writing.
To get unstuck, I made a wife-supported decision to focus just on my writing and spend 13 days in Boracay. And, the adventure started on Valentines day. Maris flew to Davao for work. I to Boracay to write. And just because, and despite brother Ardy and Clod’s initial apprehensions, I threw in a 14 day water only fast to prove my book idea works. Finish (the book) while fasting. Hitting 2 birds with one stone. Typical me.
It was a long, unconventional Saturday. I was weary from a 10 hours of continuous work away from Clod’s place in a coffeeshop. Much of it was related to my Ateneo MBA marketing class, where as the professor, I could not be absent. For the show to go on, attendance is the one thing that truly differentiates the teacher and the student. Although it was my 93rd class in 29 years of teaching, it still took hours to prepare before the class and then more hours setting up the things to do for the next class. Thanks to technology, this is the 2nd time in 4 months that I conducted an online class via Zoom, on a beach. Teaching is not easy but it is worth it. 29 years of teaching and what’s my unintended reward? – an almost unstoppable drive to share ZYX, this book, beyond the classroom to anyone who would care to read it. ZYX was a direct result of the so called 10,000 hours required to master a skill. For the past 8 or so years, I shared ZYX to my students. No more. The world is calling ZYX. Or vice versa.
And so, all alone and tired, I was so ready to go to my comfortable room, lie down and enjoy what I thought was a well deserved rest. Part of the mental fatigue was my battling the temptation from the litany of well-lighted restaurants along the main road. The food were literally calling my name and thoughts of ending my fast swirled. Fortunately, I had the right ZYX preparation that reminded me that I was just on my fifth day of what I hoped to be a 14 day fast. Surf the urge was one of my prepared and learned mantras. I won the name calling battle that night.
Angol road was secondary road from Boracay’s main road. Lights were less. Near the corner was Minda’s canteen. It had a large red Coke sponsored billboard that served like a lighthouse that guided me back to Clod’s place. Fifty meters earlier, I took a wrong turn to another side street and when I did not see the Minda sign, I quickly turned and asked where Angol Road was. Thankfully, I knew the language and the street I was looking for. Foreign tourists would not. Lucky me.
And then, just as quickly, I found myself stuck.
After carefully climbing a few steps to the house, I unexpectedly stopped at the house gate. Closed.
Being right handed, I pulled the wooden door handle gently toward me. Did not move. I pulled again. Nothing. I pulled with some of my weight. Nada. Pulled one more time, this time leaning backwards/ Strike three. True to my engineering training, I therefore concluded, just briefly of course, that the wooden door handle was stronger than my 57 year old muscles and my 210 pound weight. It happened too fast for me to get embarrassed.
I looked around just in case I was at the wrong house. I recognized the dimly lit fountain statue near the door. I was not lost. This was Clod’s house.
I let go of a huge red, recyclable ACE bag which I have held with my right hand for the last 30 minutes. Then I removed my heavy, blue tennis backpack which carried my laptop keyboard eye glasses and water bottles.
This was war. It was time to take out out my biggest weapon.
I pulled out my trusty Iphone 13 Pro from my right pocket. With its automatic Face ID and a few finger swipes, I turned on the flashlight to illuminate the door handle.
The door handle was right in front of me. I was not intimidated. With my phone flashlight on my left hand, I pulled again. Nothing. Pulled harder. The door won again.
I nervously looked around, just in case the neighbors were wondering if I was a thief or just a stupid visitor.
Surely, Clod would not lock the door from the inside. He knew I was coming home unannounced.
After another unsuccessful pull of the door, I humbly accepted a temporary truce. I wont pull if the door would do the same.
I decided to knock on wood, and shouted “Tao pol” (Anybody home?) Waited for a few seconds for a response. A second time, i knocked and shouted, this time a bit louder, still nothing. I could hear voices inside but obviously they did not hear me.
I refocused my phone’s flashlight to look for a doorbell. There was none. Sigh.
Finally, there was nothing to direct my flashlight on. Except Mr. Door handle, seemingly mocking me for being so stupid and helpless. Surely Clod’s 3 teenaged children had no problems with Mr. Door handle.
Instinctively, I thought of calling Clod on my cellphone. My last resort. Had to be humble to admit I didnt know how. Surely, just a few seconds more and I will be in.
And then, for reasons I dont know, instead of pulling on the door handle, I pushed it so gently.
Voila! The door opened. I was home.
AHA! Eureka
After months of looking for a way to start ZYX, the book, I unexpectedly found it in an unfamiliar place, near Minda’s canteen, on Angol Road in Boracay Paradise; outside the familiar confines of my comfort zone 300 miles away. I found buried treasure. Some would dismiss it as just me finally using my common sense. For me, a graduate school Marketing Professor writing his first book, I refer to it as the trigger to unleashing my genius within.
I am now eternally grateful to Mr. Door Handle who won at least 8 times in a humiliating, one sided tug of war against me that one Saturday night. However, i failed forward as my losses were the path to my book writing victory.
Mr. Door Handle was cunning. His presence at the left front side of the door instructed my engineering brain to pull. And pull I did. And pull. And again.
And knock and call out “Tao Po” twice.
And turn on the flashlight. And try again.
And almost use my iphone to call 911 for help.
Precious time was wasted.
Embarrassed and Humbled by an inanimate object.
But the pencil solution was there all the time: instead of pulling hard, the only way was to push gently. Dont pull hard, push gently.
ZYX is like that. Instead of following ABC and wasting a lot of time and opportunity. Just do the reverse. Start with the Z and think backwards.
Instead of physical force, use your mental strength.
Instead of looking for an external magic lamp, search for the genie within.
Instead of just making a wish, make your wish come true.
Not magic. But reality
Not wishful thinking, but systematic repeated success.
Not wealth or health or happiness, but all three wishes in abundance.
ZYX is my genie. And it can be yours.
Postscript
While editing this at 5 am the next morning, I recalled Ernest Hemingway and perhaps his most famous novel, The Old Man and the Sea. I knew about the book but never read it. Using the once magical, but now familiar power of the internet, I confirmed that in many ways, my struggle with the was similar to old man Santiago, the novel’s main character.
I used ZYX amd the internet to go straight to the summary:
“The Old Man and the Sea is the story of an epic struggle between an old, seasoned fisherman and the greatest catch of his life. For eighty-four days, Santiago, an aged Cuban fisherman, has set out to sea and returned empty-handed.”
On the eight-fifth day, Santiago’s fishing line finally caught a big marlin, the biggest catch of his life,. Old man Santiago and the Sea (the marlin) battled for 3 days until Santiago finally won the tug of war, when the marlin got tired and died. Then the sharks came…
My battle with the wooden door in Boracay for 5 minutes one Saturday night is nothing compared to Hemingway’s Santiago, But both Santiago and me, old men, did not go home empty handed. Even after the sharks came.