It’s utterly frustrating when after years of trying to figure out your calling and finally deciding what you want to do for the rest of your life, you had to forego and move on for supposedly better things. It has been one and a half years since I abandoned my passion for climbing mountains, not because I wanted to, but because I had lo let go.

When I found myself climbing mountains four years ago, I inexorably fell in love with a person who was also as mesmerized as I was with it. Sadly though, with much pain and bitter ending, the love was not meant to be. He wasn’t mine.

James was a fellow climber I met in college. It all began during a climb in Mt. Makulot, and it was the start of a love so unrequited and selfless it was almost to the point of stupidity. Although of course for me, it was the other way around.

It was when we watched the sunset together for the first time that I felt this sudden surge of emotion--- a realization that the person beside me was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my sunsets with. Maybe I was just overwhelmed with the incredible view in front of us--- the breathtaking sunset, the mountain around us, the hovering blue and grey clouds, and the surrounding crystal blue waters below--- I really couldn’t tell. The experience was so surreal I never thought or imagined I could feel this way for someone in all places and circumstances. I was absolutely taken aback by what I had felt because first of all, the feeling was not mutual. He was not in love with me.

James and I were not instant friends at first. He was too presko and yabang for me. However because we were part of a group who loved outdoors we eventually became good friends. Behind the first impression was a very funny and down-to-earth guy. He loved making everybody laugh, and he never missed making me laugh with his humor. Besides his wit, he also has the brains to back him up. He knows his math pretty well (above average actually), although too laid back. He boasted most of the time, but I couldn’t explain why his arrogance appealed to me. At the time when I lost all possible respect for most guys, he earned and proved himself well enough not to be typecasted. A non-conformist with brains, who climbs mountains? I was impressed.

I continued to climb mountains, and I continued to secretly love the guy. Since that sunset incident, I literally couldn’t get him off my mind. Little by little, he became part of conversations with friends ( I watched a movie with him today! Or I saw him past Grove). I started writing about him too, getting all the inspiration (and pain) that I could get. Things were really getting serious when he started to appear in my dreams.

I was especially hooked up by how his eyes would lighten up, or how he would make a half lit smile that would turn into a big burst of laughter whenever he would talk about his family and friends, roadtrips and misadventures, a few trivial things about his past, and his rottweiller named Kerot with much animation. I would hang on to every word, making sure they were duly responded with. I’m not much of a talker anyway, and so I’d listen (and secretly sigh) without missing a word.

In my desperate attempt to stay away from his lovelife as far as possible, I nonetheless became cupid, postman, and even dr. love in his relationship. I must admit the role added more damage to an already bruised injury. For some strange reason, I could not refuse. I figured this was meant to be… It was the gods’ way of getting back at me for a bad past life or something. Or maybe it was their way of telling me that my eventful sunset was actually a miscalculation on their part. It was a role too heavy to bear; it was like carrying a three-day pack 24 hours, 7 days a week. I could’ve given up my climb, turn around and go home. But the climber in me told me to go and carry on inspite and despite of. And so I did continue to love James (even though unrequited), all the while I was limping.

Albeit the deep stab on the chest, the feelings stayed on. I held on to dear life, clinging on to an unstable rope, trying to keep my grip and my sanity. Though the most logical thing to do was to forget the feelings (and give the love to a more worthy cause) I couldn’t forget that sunset with him. I’d seen numerous and equally breathtaking sunsets in my life, but for some reason or another, it was different. To simply put it, everything about it was beautiful--- the silence, the moment, and him. I guess you couldn’t exactly choose who to love, it just happens.

After numerous sleepless nights and constant head banging by well-meaning friends, I decided to do something about the situation. I couldn’t handle all the drama anymore. I stayed away from him for a while just until I’ve gotten over my feelings. I explored new trails, new paths to lead my life. The trails were getting old anyway. I just had to forget him and fix my limp.

Months later news came to me that he had broken up with his girlfriend, this time for good. I knew they’d patch things up soon enough and sincerely wished them to get back together. As for me, I was making a whole new different kind of sunset with another person.

Just when things were finally falling into place, he told me that he loved me. How could a butterfly I had delicately and secretly loved for two long years just freely land on my shoulder? The only guy who I’d written poems for ( I’m not even poetic), the only person I’d cried and prayed hard for, and of whom I watched longingly from a distance, was finally holding me.

A friend once told me that you don’t catch butterflies with a net. You wait patiently for it to come to you. If you’re lucky enough to have one, hold it in a way it could freely spread its wings. No matter how you want to keep them on your hand, you can’t. Butterflies have wings, they need to fly.

My story didn’t end with a happily ever after, so to speak. Armed with only the love that I thought would conquer all, I plunged in strange waters and drowned. I called it quits when a fear became reality and literally fell right in front of me. He wouldn’t and couldn’t stand up for me for several reasons too painful to explain. Unbelievably, I understood every bit of it. I just knew there was no more reason for me to stay, the only way to go was to let go.

I decided to give up climbing shortly after that. That was more than a year ago. It was one of the hardest decisions I had made in my life, it literally tore me to a hundred pieces. I didn’t see any reason to climb anymore. To be up there, with the sunset and all, with the moon and stars would just remind me of my failure. My calling was over.

Among the mountains I climbed in three years, it was ironic that it was in Mt. Makulot where I marked the end of my calling. During that last trip, the sunset was not as expected--- the colors were not as sharp, and it was a little gloomy then. As though to make up, the moon and the stars had never appeared so beautiful, as if making extra effort to sparkle even more that night. .If I only knew then it was to be my last climb, I would have said goodbye properly and maybe stayed a little longer.

I accidentally saw him recently. I haven’t seen him, for maybe seven months or so. We don’t have any sort of communication either, so it was a total surprise seeing him. I was about to go home from a movie that night, and I saw him sitting in a café. He saw me and waved, all I could do was to wave back. All sorts of feelings came rushing down on me. Should I go there and say hello? But how? Admittedly I would have loved to say hi, but I opted not to. Some things might slip out of my mouth, I’m afraid his reaction thereafter might tear me into pieces all over again. Yup, I chickened out. There goes the love of my life, who I could never get myself to forget up until now. I wonder if I could see him again.

Climbing mountains not only taught me to appreciate the mundane, it also taught me to embrace acceptance. In hindsight, you can’t conquer all mountains nor everything beautiful is made to last. Notwithstanding the uncertainty that lies ahead of me, I stand up, gather courage, as I ride my own mountain.

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