Heads Up

Let me introduce you to a social party game that will test your generation gap from your kids within minutes: Heads Up. 

It's a classic word game popularized by Ellen DeGeneres. I learned to play this game today when my daughter had a play day with her classmates at the end of school term. In short, you're supposed to hold a phone to your forehead that displays a term. You can't see the term but the game requires you to guess the term from your teammates' witty hints. The more terms you correctly name, the more points for your team.  

We chose the terms from categories like celebrities, brand names, characters, and trendy items. Intuitively, parents should outwit the kids. Or not. My daughter laughed when we lined up a team of grown-ups. And with good reason.  

My daughter and her classmates kept laughing. Many times. Out loud. The truth, as I now know, is that adults like me are strangers to many terms: Oscar the Grouch, Power Rangers, Teyana Taylor, iCarly, Millie Bobby Brown, and on and on.

Shut

From the emotional anguish caused by social distancing to the ache of public libraries closing their doors, the coronavirus outbreak runs the gamut in ways we can't imagine. 

I could never have predicted that our public libraries remained shut for four months. At times, I feel like Robinson Crusoe who forgets to bring enough books from the wrecked ship since being marooned. And bereft it was.

As we are all adjusting to new way of living, we are supposed to reinvent ourselves. An obvious option, after library closure, is to have free online access to digital books. In the blink of an eye, we're supposed to have a wealth of reading materials, say, after the National Emergency Library in the United States offered free universal open library collection. 

Sounds perfect? The answer is yes. And no.

Alas, that's not entirely easy for someone like me who is not used to download e-books or audiobooks. I simply can't. The brick-and-mortar library and the printed books, ultimately, are choices as personal as the boxer shorts versus tight-fitting briefs. It takes every ounce of effort to switch from one to another. Every atom of you, still, wants to go back to the original choice. 

One hundred forty two days. That's how long it took for me to subsist on paperback books borrowed from my friends. Excitement didn't even come close to describing how I felt yesterday, when the public library next to my hospital reopened. 

Hallelujah.  

Withdrawal

There are times in life when we encounter a setback that puts the kibosh on our habits. For me, a broken leg is one such hiccup to stop my running.

If my interruption in running is a crossword clue, the answer would be "cranky".

Withdrawal symptom isn't uncommon when we have to give up or quit something important. On the other hand - or other leg, I should say - running is a positive addiction which should never be mixed up with tobacco, cocaine or gambling.

But this is a life skill every bit as important as learning how to quit smoking, since directing my attention to other passion is the best way to heal my leg that was crushed. Let me also say that I am beyond grateful and privileged to have good chance that my bones will eventually heal. Sooner or later, I shall be ready to hit the road again.

Wait for me.

Sunim

Not too long ago I was checking stats on my Fitbit: number of steps and my pace dashboard. Before my foot injury, it was hard to imagine my life reclaimed from slowing down.

The elbow crutches or leg crutch made me profoundly mindful of how to slow down.

Every single step is about being slow, the way we should take coffee in small sips to get the most of the aroma. And the speed of Earth's rotation seems to be no exception. Everything is slow. And, I’d add, I can enjoy longer-lasting stock of socks now that I wear only one sock instead of two.

Does it mean I enjoy the sloth's way of living? Hardly. In fact, I'm reluctantly giving up my pace, because I have to. In a sense, it's tough training for survival in an event of paralysis or injury. I shrugged my shoulders and sat down. Then I saw a message from a friend of mine, reminding me to pick up the book written by the Zen Buddhist guru Haemin Sunim, The Things You Can See Only When You Slow Down.

Now, more than ever, I find the powerful voices from Sunim. That's what he writes:

Don't struggle to heal your wounds.

Just pour time into your heart and wait.

When your wounds are ready,

they will heal on their own.