“You and I live in an age when only a rare minority of individuals desire to spend their lives in pursuit of objectives which are bigger than they are. In our age, for most people, when they die it will be as though they never lived.” Rusty Rustenbach, Giving Yourself Away
It must be my age. Or maybe it’s only me. At 55, I feel I’ve
reached a point where what I do should not be done just for the sake of doing
it. A few years ago I would have cared less. But a time comes when what
you leave behind and how you will be remembered starts to grab your attention.
It was late 2010 when I biked all the way to Baguio City, over
200 kilometers away, on my then alloy mountain bike. Before we started my aim
was to see my limits. But right in the middle of it I remembered my daughters.
Here is something they will be talking among themselves and then later with
their children.
Sometime in the
future, on their way to visit their roots in that cool mountain city, they will
be talking how Papa made this one ridiculous attempt to better himself. Later
they will be telling their children how Grandpa made the kilometers and mashed
his way up Kennon Road because he wanted to leave them a story.
But whenever I think of leaving a significant mark, I always
remember Jojo, a very good friend from Texas. He is an icon as far as this
writer is concerned. Here is a man focused on sowing the seeds that will
benefit others, particularly the marginalized, through his work in Gawad Kalinga.
Here is man truly in pursuit of objectives bigger than he is. Here is a man who
will look back at his life convinced he lived it well.
John Maxwell once wrote, “significance comes when you add value to others.” I share this thinking and so I emulate Jojo.
I would love to bike and do nothing else. I started my sport this way. And then I began to notice along my favorite single track a people displaced. They are there, in spite the harsh surroundings, in spite of the lack of basic necessities like water and electricity, an old tarpaulin as their roof, because this is the only place they can call, even temporarily, home. Mountain biking in my backyard offers me a view of people abandoned.
While most would breeze on, focused on the trail ahead and their body English, there are a handful of us who can hear, smell and see the struggle around us. So we stop, we reach out, we give. We believe it is the only way we can render back to those who allowed us into their space so we can enjoy our sport. But my true reward is I enjoyed my biking even more after my giving.
First, I feel safer knowing I am threading the same ground as those who see me as their friend. There is no wondering off to places that may be dangerous for the very people who see me as their friend stops me.
Next, people wave me over for coffee, a simple snack and small talk. The warmth makes me feel I am family and always welcomed here.
Finally, it makes me discover the real joy of selfless giving. I would have earned a few pesos selling my old bike frame but giving it away to someone in there who long yearned to have something representing my ride, who yells us his “hello!” while blowing his air horn every time we bike past his claim, creates happiness that is without measure.
And there may be no payment for the effort of bringing school supplies for the poor in that area but the “thank you!” from the parents who sees school are their children's only hope raises one’s own hope for a better world.
When it is time for me to draw the curtain, I would like to look back to a life that has been lived and lived to the full. A life that found joy in giving. A life that found significance through the smiles of the people whose lives I have touched. A life that sowed seeds of hope. A life that has done all these and had fun doing it.
Katherine Graham puts it best: “To love what you do and feel that it matters—how could anything be more fun?”
