The Art of Falling

Inertia, force, mass, gravity, velocity, acceleration…cause and effect. These don’t quite fit together in my head, which may be the reason why I dislike physics.

I don’t understand how we fall, where we fall, why we fall. I just know that we do. Is it of the circumstances we’re into? Or the choices, decisions we make no matter how small they may seem? Or the chances, opportunities we’re being served with which we grab or let slip away? Or is it merely fate? Whichever fits the hole, I still don’t understand why.

There was this one day when fate and choices was tackled in our Humanities class which drove me back to two moments of my life when I never knew what these physics-things were. I just know the world turns, and it coats itself with light for day then floats naked for night; that, everything moves and nothing remains the same with time.


Try to imagine ‘one who may possibly accelerate to a point where he could pass thru the skies and stars, where he could see what hides beyond the clouds; or even, where he could say he’s reached an edge of the universe.’

Strangely enough, objects at rest lie and watch, watch and lie. People lie on red-checked blankets with weeds and flowers around, caught in the fleece. Their breaths carry their wishes higher and higher, until they become the clouds they look up to. Sometimes, they look for animals or ice cream cones or angels, but for a moment they just lie and wonder what lies beyond.

Back then, I was just a child.

My hair lies damp on my bandaged head. Bandaged? You read it right. But reserve that for later. So, that blue afternoon, my hands were streaked with dirt. The mud made squelching noises between my toes as I walked. That day was very solemn. I buried… a worm; a worm I found lying in the driveway. I knelt in the grass and laid the worm in the dirt. My nose was running. I was completely sad. I looked up at the sky and thought of what my grade school teacher said about sunny and windy days, and cloudy days like this. It’s likely to rain.

Just around that time of my life, I have dreamt of death as an angel that would lend me wings for me to fly. Death unfortunately is not in the business of lending wings.

Still, stay…

Try to ask yourself, ‘How do you gather force to push an object?’

Indeed, objects at rest stand and watch, watch and stand. How would you move them? Force, you’d say. But, the question remains. How could you earn the force, the drive to turn the one at rest the other way around? Just as where do people pull the pieces they’ve lost to bring them back together, for them to feel complete again?

Back then, I was just a child.

We were playing, me and my cousins. We were all so happy jumping on the foam put beside my bed. Jump. Laugh. Jump. Laugh. Jump, jump…bang!

There was blood! There was tension circling around my room. It was me! I banged my head at the edge of my bed! My mom, I remember her panicking. My head was badly wounded! Nonetheless, I don’t remember crying. Right after I was put on the table with my mother cutting my hair where I was cut, I don’t remember anything. I just know now, I had this scar on my head. I was in motion, and a force acted upon me. I stopped. Yet, force unknown.

To bury a worm, to dream of having wings and to wound myself; were these choices I made? Or chances for life spices? Or was it my fate?

It’s all these tiny encounters that changed everything. I saw them with perfect clarity long after the moments have passed. If I hadn’t had them, I wouldn’t have these stories to tell. I would have been a different person.

Then, fall…

Try to realize ‘why the world rotates, why gravity exists.’

Objects in motion roll and watch, watch and roll. We are rolling down an impossibly flat hill. Our arms pressed to our chest; our hair caught in the wind, tangled with our laughter. Gravity is our playmate, momentum is our friend. We are the blurs of motion. We are racing, and we are all winning, because we don’t race others. We race the world, and as fast as it rotates, as fast as it revolves, we are faster.

And, fall in place…

It isn’t exactly about choices, chances or fate. It is not about catching fireflies in jars nor is it about not learning constellations, because we should not trap the stars.

It is life, a life to be lived in a world made entirely of sky; a life to watch over, whether at rest or in motion.



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