Master Pieces

When the student is ready, the master will appear - in pieces.

My first lesson came from the fun in gliding out of my mom's birth canal. I had my first taste of freedom. Mom taught me to be independent at an early stage of my life by kicking the bottle habit. I drank and dined with adults at my grandmother's birthday party when large prawns circulated around the table and somehow an empty dish stopped in front of me. "What about me?" That's it. That had the one-year-old in me raise my right hand exercise my right of speech.

* * *

It was in my dad's good intention to teach me how to read as he gave me this Cookie Monster alphabet coloring book, when he pointed out to the title that said "A to Z" and asked me to read it. I looked at the flow of his pointing finger that ran smoothly from A to Z and proudly said, "atoz!" He said it was wrong and cursed at me for not being observant of the capital letters and the spacing in between letters. It got me confused. Actually, we were both right. The way he pointed at those letters made me read them as one word. That was the end of our first lesson as I vowed to teach myself to read.

As a five-year-old being tasked to fetch the morning paper each day, I would run to the paper box by the gate and slip out the "Morning Times" and spread it on the hood of the car and struggled to read the headlines before I deliver the paper to my dad. Even if I do not comprehend what I was reading, I would pay attention to how the letters were arranged.

* * *

In school, I took up piano lessons scheduled during class recess times. I was disappointed when I found out that my piano teacher was a very patient nun. The classes bored me as I learned fast to a point that I would bring my own pieces and asked her to play for me while I sat there listening to her slow rendition. I wanted to be in Miss Abos' class. She was loud and strict and not afraid to speak her mind. Sometimes, I could hear the student next door crying. If only I could get a transfer to her class! I would deliberately hide from the nun and linger by Miss Abos' door until she came out. I never got the chance to be her student but I learned a lot about discipline from her just by being next door.

* * *

My biology teacher, Mdm. Duraliza, encouraged me to explore life outside microscopes. During study periods, I would initiate ESP (extra sensory power) games and talk about the power of pyramids and UFO's. Eventually, that led me to reach for the stars. I was already setting my sights on joining NASA after high school. Maybe Pluto wouldn't have gone to the dogs.

* * *

In college, I had Prof. Heim in my design class who was really patient in bringing out the creativeness in me by guiding me from conceptualization to presentation. I didn't like working in school but spent most of my time milling around classmates who valued my opinions on their designs. I was always one of the ace students in her class and after that semester, I decided I've had enough of design classes simply because designing is really a personal thing. I didn't want to do design classes theoretically for a couple of semesters anymore. One great design mentor was enough for me. Moreover, I enjoyed her company as we would have lunch out together during weekends with her circle of friends, who were also professors, and talk about the lighter side of life.

* * *

I had an Arab professor who was a consultant in the UN and would tell me stories of his travels and his hometown in Egypt. That encouraged me to apply for a post in UN. One day, I was in his office discussing about my project when he closed the door. I was focused on getting my work done and at the same time, I noticed he was standing behind me. I had this awkward feeling so I began wrapping up my discussion and calmly thanked him for his time. Before I left, he kissed my nape and professed his fondness to me. My hairs stood up as I slowly backed up towards the door and thanked him for the compliment. At that moment, it would be overreacting to scream for help when you're alone with a towering 6-ft. man who politely showed his affection. Was that tantamount to sexual harassment these days?

* * *

Jasmine was a teacher who helped me discover my innate gifts. I breezed through the first part of our journey in self-discovery. Little did I know that the next level would be spirit-breaking as I got sick and learned how to heal myself. Just getting to class everyday was torture because I was used to being absent even if I wasn't sick. It was a class wherein you remember everything by heart and notes were burned after class. The challenge in communicating came up when I can only understand snippets of her broken English as she taught in a mixture of German and Thai. It was so easy to give up but then I just had to endure the lessons until it became easier. At the end of our journey, she smiled and told me she had to tailor the class according to her student. She taught the course in reverse order. It made me wonder who's crazier.

* * *

One winter morning, I found myself spending a weekend with George. He taught me a sacred prayer to access the book of Life called the Akashic Records. Being inquisitive, I asked him about the meaning of a section of the prayer that states "my masters, teachers and loved ones". He then threw the question back at me expecting me to run a list of names. I reflected for a moment and said, "I am the master of myself. My experiences are my teachers. My memories are my loved ones." He looked at me as if I was an alien and sheepishly asked, "May I have your permission to quote you in my book and website?" Sure, go ahead.

* * *

I used to list down names of people who made an impact in my life and wrote what I've learned from having a relationship with them. It helped me understand what roles they play in my life even if I've just met them for five minutes. A teacher-student relationship can only be elevated to a mentor-prodigy level through application. Wisdom is knowledge applied. One thing I usually do after my lesson is learned is that I sever ties with my teacher. Do not become like the teacher. The purpose of learning is to bring out who you really are and in turn, share it with others by teaching. It is not the course curriculum that I remember but by the experience of being with someone who has the generosity to share that moment with me. That is how I learn by heart. And that is how a masterpiece is made.