a leap of faith.

I knew two meters of jump was an impossible one. But I did it, though I killed one cup on my way.

This was actually about a peculiar game that we had during our Teachers' Summit. The player had to cross a track filled with cups which had to remain standing until the player totally reached the other end. This was a group task designed to be done by one representative and the others as guide. The glitch here was that the player had to cross blindfolded with his group mates as his guide and the other players as obstacles, or shall we say the distractions. Easy? Come to think of more than a twenty distractions and tell me if your brain will not summon all the words synonymous to confusion. This was an understatement especially when you're there trying to dissect the voice of your group mates from the disorienting noises and the pumping and thumping sound of your heart. Talking about adrenaline rush.

"Mike, can you jump?", I heard Ms. Jeni's whisper. "Yes, of course," was my immediate reply.

"Can you jump about two meters?" I thought I just heard my nervousness playing a fool out of me. "HUH?!" "Yes, can you jump two meters, Mike?", Ms. Jeni asked and this time there was conviction on her voice and there was the Jabberwocky in my heart. Two meters?!!

I remembered the movie, Jumper, in which the characters did nothing but ran and jumped. I thought maybe I could use that kind of exhibitionism. The only difference, though, was that they had powers and I got only my legs; my short, stout and unexercised legs. Jumping two meters was like breathing with one nostril, not impossible but highly improbable. Was their faith on me as long, or rather as short, as my legs? Or was my doubt as high as I could imagine my jump would be?

I closed my eyes although the blindfold was already hugging me in darkness. "Ms. Jen, I think I can do this." My doubt was resonating far across the lofty and cold mountains of Dahilayan. They reverberated dubiously masking my faked conviction and blended together with the laughters of my co-teachers. "I could do this," I told myself.

And I jumped.

And my heart jumped. The world jumped with me. I was deaf for a while when the laughters vacuumized the sound around me. There was laughter everywhere and there was me butt-flat on the ground unsparingly sitting on the oblivious, white and broken cup. I nearly did it but the cup took my victory away. Getting even, hahaha.

Our group did not win this game but the fun was worth more celebrating than the win. Sticks and stones may break my bones but jumping two meters (almost, actually) will always paint a smile on me. This was my leap of faith. And my teammates as well.