Rubber band
Originally uploaded by Wanchen Tai

I played with a rubber band between my fingertips while I was on the phone this afternoon. The importance of the serious issue in discussion over the phone rendered me rather inarticulate. I needed to divert my attention a bit and relax my nerve, and the rubber band happened to be handy.

I didn't really know whether playing with this small object helped ease the conversation in the end, for, as far as I can remember, I was fully engaged in the dialogue. Honesty, rather, between me and the other conversant on the other side of the world has led us to a happy and promising point which will keep both of us inspired and optimistic about our respective concerns.

After hanging up the phone, I noticed the distorted rubber band that my unattended creativity had made between the spiral of my diary. It was not like any cheap rubber bands that I used to see, I think. I recalled that it did not bite my skin but felt rather smooth, silky: nothing plastic. Its color was somehow potently dense; it is powerfully elastic, submissive to the tortures that my fingers imposed on it and resilient enough to return to its defining shape. It didn't provoke any irritation that the plastic nature of rubber usually suggested. Instead, the three arches between the inked and blank spaces in my diary appeared rather arty and thoughtful. It guided my thoughts to follow its curvy paths.

I saw a lesson about flexibility, a note on how to strike a balance between being submissive and being resistant, between the contrary forces of the world and the self.