Brain

A first cousin of mine named Boy, a gifted painter, was surprised to hear me read his love letter in cursive. Bewildered, he had me finish reading that two-page-blueprint of his emotion anyway, which I understood secret and sacred even at young age.

“What grade are you in?” he asked, wondering.

“First grade” I replied.

“And why you’re able to read such described writings, in different characters?”

He insisted another question as if I had a clue.

The same young years of my life, in the first and the second grade, I always gave my teachers bolt from the blue. That’s when my brain was still sharp memorizing a poem and a song in less than a day.

From word to phrase to line to stanza, I remembered them all - it didn’t matter how long or short it was. But it wasn’t in my advantage as always because I got the first roll call every time.

Wish I still have that brain – not just a mere organ inside my head that controls thought, memory, feelings, and activity – I need my brain back. Now that I’m old, I see manifestations of a brain cell’s not functioning so well.

Yesterday morning, as I was walking in the neighborhood, a young, familiar lady greeted me happily. Over a span of just few seconds, it developed a conversation – an odd one in my part trying to recall who I was talking to.

We talked and talked and pretended that I know her well, but I was actually in a mental block. When I could no longer stand the game, the great pretense, I initiated a move to get away with this awkwardness.

“Do you study English still?” I asked, without any assurance if this would give a hint.

“Oh, you were my last teacher at CWF!” she flattered me.

Then one memory after another flashed back – she was actually my Level 8 student at Conversations With Foreigners for one term, where I taught advanced students like her.

See how this thinking deteriorates reaching an old age – it distorts our brains eventually. What can I do but let reality as is.

One of the movies I watched last week was Iron Lady played by Meryl Streep herself, and which many of you are familiar maybe. The story was so fascinating and very stunning that it portrayed the quest of woman for a spot in political arena surrounded with aggressive and dominant males.

She was tough, brave, and brilliant – she is no other than Margaret Thatcher – the first and only female British Prime Minister – she’s got the brain more than just a gut – a Oxford University product. That’s the great side of the story.

The sad part of the story which had taken me perplexed was the one in her olden days – when she could no longer remember things clearly like they used to be - stricken by forgetfulness and hallucinations or schizophrenic symptoms.

Again, blame it to the brain or this aging thing. This is life undeniably humans will face - to few or to many of us when we get older and older. This is when brain is no longer competent than it was before.

“Dear Lord, may we see grace still in this unwanted stage of our lives. We ask for your wisdom to continually overflow when every little thing seem confusing. We pray for your mercy to follow us all the days of our lives especially when days seem irritating to bear. And hope for more strength that comes from you to be manifested in this olden day when every single cell is retiring or when every muscle is resistant or when our body is too weak to exist. Amen.”