The Sea Is Ours Read Free

widespread use of bathalani for Levitation.
    Despite the eventual development of the sturdier and more accurate Stroh viol and other instruments specifically for the purpose of Levitation, such is the simplicity and straightforward nature of the kubing that popular interest in the instrument has not waned in the intervening centuries.
    â€”Dr. Jose Maceda, “Gongs & Bamboo: A Panorama of Philippine Musical Instruments,” 1998
    ~*~
    When I was old enough, my father gave me his heirloom Amati viol, an immaculate instrument with a lustrous dark brown varnish on fully aged wood. Its voice was like gold and it played like mercury, with rich deep registers that smoothly gave way to crystal treble tones.
    It was perfect.
    And so began my initial instruction in the finer points of Levitation.
    I was taught how to strap the instrument to my shoulder, to accustom myself to the feel of it under my chin. Then came the finer intimacies of the fingerboard and the rigors of bow control.
    Days turned into weeks into months. Solfegges followed scales followed arpeggios, and all over again. I learned to play etudes and caprices, practicing every day for hours on end with a set of bathalani geodes.
    Papa would have me Levitate the stones in formation again and again.
    My fingers ached all the time from the relentless drills.
    â€œMas rapido!” he would shout. “You’re going too slow!”
    One time, my fingers hurt so much that I cried.
    â€œHow can you expect to fly if you cannot even manage your own fingers?” Papa scolded me.
    But he bent down and took my tiny hands in his and rubbed my palms.
    He wiped a tear from my cheek.
    â€œStart over,” he ordered, and left me alone to practice.
    ~*~
    During the latter half of the eighteenth century there culminated the long struggle for colonial empire between European states which we have been following. In the zealous movement for defense in support of the Spanish Crown that ensued, there rose to power the Cofradia de los Hermanos Alados, which bore as its motto the personal vow of its Navigators: “Totus tuus, Musica: Alis volas propria”—I am yours, O Music: You fly on your own wings.
    â€”David P. Barrows, PhD, “A History of the Philippines,” 1905
    ~*~
    When I was deemed ready, I was taught to Levitate a cargo skiff. It was of a very humble make, with a low and somewhat flattened hull, meant as a light cargo pallet for shipping bulk items from one level of the city to another. A series of copper sound tubes extended out from the pilot’s seat to the sides, where rows of gravidium pellets were bound tightly to the wooden frame with strong hemp rope.
    As I watched, Papa placed his own viol under his chin and turned to face the skiff’s sound cone.
    â€œWatch closely,” he said, and proceeded to play at a legato tempo. Slower than usual, so I could keep up.
    He played a standard ascension arpeggio—a series of harmonic notes meant to Levitate a ship in a smooth, sloping upward trajectory.
    The skiff’s system of tubes carried the music to the crystals, which trembled and glowed at the sound.
    The skiff rose up and away, just as intended. When he had reached roof height, he reversed the succession of notes, bringing the pallet gently back down.
    â€œNow, you try it.”
    I took my place at the front of the skiff and strapped my feet into the pilot’s harnesses. Papa stood just behind me on the cargo pallet, holding onto the side rails, closely watching my every move.
    I made sure that my viol was strapped in and firmly wedged under my chin.
    I pressed my fingers tentatively onto the fingerboard, trying my best to produce a steady liftoff scale.
    â€œYou’re doing well, Aria. Just remember what I taught you. Steady notes, steady notes,” Papa whispered into my ear.
    It is always a scary feeling when you draw your bow across the strings and see yourself rising up into the air for the first time.
    It