Want to be happy? Read!

A recent read about this thing called bibliotherapy - the practice of reading books for therapeutic effect - sent me some ripples of excitement. Growing up with an unremitting appetite for books, I know how it was like to be consumed, as if losing some sense of self, by a work of fiction. And this one - Can Reading Make You Happier? by Ceridwen Dovey for The New Yorker, came as a validation of that feeling, of being carried away into another realm of the universe. Reading fiction, Dovey says, “is one of the few remaining paths to transcendence, that elusive state in which the distance between the self and the universe shrinks”.

It sure is, undoubtedly. And I feel elated by all the voracity for books I seem to have bequeathed to my two young daughters. I have seen them salivate at the mere mention of dropping by bookstores each time we get downtown; how they drool at each new Neil Gaiman or Madeleine L’Engle that come out fresh into the shelves.

They devour books – like Liesel Meminger in Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief - ravenous for stories that transport them into new worlds and people who lived exciting lives. They relish the joys and grief of the stories like they have personally lived them. 

They knew, like Roald Dahl's famous protagonist Matilda, that if you read Jane Austen or Frank Baum, you’d find out there’s more to life than getting up every day for work or school, and that some grown-ups aren’t really grown-ups after all. I admit I get them miffed sometimes, and they retreat to their books for comfort. Unwittingly, bibliotherapy has been around the house for years.

Bibliotherapy, however, is not an escape from reality to an imaginary world. Books are much more than being a frigate than can transport you to some magical place. They draw you to self-awareness, make you bleed with ideas that either conform or disagree with each compelling story, or move you into action.

I came to love running even more because of Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running – a beautiful memoir about his obsession with running and writing. When my body is unwilling, his words resonate in my head, like a muse to some sluggish novelist on a writer’s block. 

There’s so much about a day’s passing, but despite the blistering summer heat, weariness at work, coffee running out, ineptness to put thoughts into words, there are always stories from Umberto Eco, John Steinbeck, and Alice Munro to name a few. 

But most, if not all of my favorite books by Filipino authors aren’t meant for bibliotherapy. They turn me into something else: a Filipino, infuriated by the exasperating slack in the country's development. But despite the frustration, they developed in me a heightened sense of patriotism . F. Sionil Jose’s five-book series, the Rosales saga, gave me a deeper grasp of colonialism, how it robbed the Filipinos of cultural integrity, and a realization where I stand in the immense economic and political divide in my country. 

But there is still some sort of therapy in it. My Filipino soul, broken and lost by years of foreign dominance and the distressing economic quagmire, is eased by F. Sionil’s account of Istak’s bravery in Po-on. I want it transmitted to me, like a viral contagion, so I can stand in valor against what ails my country.

In this case, bibliotherapy serves not only to heal the self, but a broken nationalist spirit as well.

Running in Gyeongju – a travel back in time

Dr. Yong Larrazabal recently wrote an article for SunStar Cebu about his feat at the Gyeongju International Marathon in South Korea last October 16. It was a notable achievement for him, having set a new personal record of 3:45, beating his previous 3:47 at the Seoul International Marathon in March last year.

He was right about running in Korea; the routes are mostly flat and the weather is relatively cool in the fall and spring, making these seasons all cramped with weekend marathons. And he was right about Gyeongju too. The city is a perfect venue for running, especially for foreigners; it features a rich infusion of history and culture. And unlike metropolitan Seoul, it affords an urban-yet-laidback lifestyle. It was the capital of the ancient South Korean dynasty of Silla – an age-old prominence that gave the city its rightful entitlement as an “open museum”

Pre-race assembly at Hwangseong Park

But he wasn’t right when he said he was the only Filipino in the race. I was there too, however, obscured among the thousands of eager runners - restless and enthusiastic as the gun time approaches. And I wore the same tiny Philippine flag I had on proudly at the Incheon International Marathon last year. I took time to buy felt papers of yellow, red, blue, and white at the university store, cut them into shapes and glued the pieces together to make that gallant symbol of my pride.

Proudly donning the national colors

I guess Dr. Yong and I hinged on the same wave of feeling of being the only Filipino among the 10,000 runners coursing through the downtown, along ancient historical relics, rice fields, and highways. But unlike me, Dr. Yong is one distinguished Filipino runner/eye surgeon back home. I could liken him to the celebrated Japanese runner/novelist Haruki Murakami whose book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running has greatly inspired me to take running as my life’s metaphor. And he has already been trailing clouds of reputed glory both in running and in his medical practice. He and his wife, the renowned Donna Cruz, have been running together in several marathons both local and abroad, making them a celebrity running couple whose merits as regular runners are measures of their métier for the sport that tests discipline and endurance.

In Korea, road running is also a favorite pastime - Koreans being avid about wellness and sports. Their fondness for marathons inspire admiration – you see a bunch of spruced up girls in pretty ponytails, a couple at their senescence, a paraplegic on a wheelchair, a father and a daughter pacing alongside – all weathering the distance with dauntless spirits. But these all make sense in a health-conscious society and a sport that bears significance in the Korean history.

Daereungwon Tomb Complex: Gyeongju's famous landmark

Anapji Pond

1936 Berlin Olympics: Korean marathoner Sohn Kee-Chung took the gold. But the country was under the rule of the Japanese Empire and so the flag on his uniform wasn’t Korea’s and Japan had the official gold credit. Expressing his dissent to the orders of the colonial government, Sohn refused to sign his name in Japanese characters and bowed his head in protest at the awarding ceremony. When Dong-a Ilbo, one of the major newspapers in Korea whose nationalist founder Kim Sung-soo became the country’s vice-president in 1951, published a photographed of Sohn with a blotted out image of the Japanese flag on his uniform, the colonial government was infuriated. The publication was suspended for nine months and eight people affiliated with the newspaper were imprisoned. Sohn later become a heroic symbol of nationalism and patriotic sentiments.

While we have nothing so monumental and profound a historical account in marathon as the Koreans do, running in a foreign country brings a patriotic wave. I wear my flag conspicuously above my race bib – being certain that however obscured runner that I was, I have pattered dusts of Filipino resplendence on this part of the world. And that is the best part of the race.

Now I’m back to my corner in Iksan City, where I work as a professor, contemplating on a selection from a number of marathon schedules in the spring time. By then, I’d be in Gyeongju serving a new academic ground in a city that brings everyone to a travel back in time. Dr. Yong might be coming back for the Seoul International Marathon in four months. I wish to see him at the finish line and cheer for a highly esteemed fellowman and a former boss.