One thousand. The biblical number of prosperity, the number of years in a millennium, and the number that signifies a remarkable milestone.
With my shoulders slumped against my bed’s backboard, I began my longtime journey to fold a thousand origami cranes. Crane after crane, my fingers ached and creaked like a rusty machine. But every time I felt I was on the verge of quitting, I remembered, I have a thousand different reasons to continue.
As told by generations of Japanese folklore, it is believed that by folding a thousand paper cranes, a person’s deepest wish would be granted. This legend is known as “Senbazuru,” passed down by generations since the early Edo period. Though most would scoff at the absurdity of this myth, I choose to stand by its power.
…1…2…3…When it came to learning how to fold, I had always been a student. Internet strangers who took initiative to make online tutorials gave me wings. Taking inspiration from them, I decided to become a teacher’s assistant for Zoom origami classes during the pandemic. Each class, 15 flashing icons watched as we taught them how to make kusudamas, tessellation flashers and stacking cubes. My favorite lesson was one that I had planned during April Fool’s.
“First, you fold your paper diagonally,” I explained. “The next step will be to crumple the paper and put your fist into it and CRUMPLE!”
In that very moment, my students (who were usually muted) reciprocated their feelings in the most genuine manner — laughter.
…203…204…205… Origami was my great escape from high school’s clutches. To put it bluntly, my first two years of high school were rocky. From struggling in classes to losing connections with middle school friends that went to a different high school, it seemed as if my world was crumbling. Whether it was math classes or PE, I felt that I wasn’t enough, so I always ended up sequestering myself in my own mediocrity. After a year’s worth of trial and tribulation, I gave up. I told my parents that I wanted to transfer out of Lynbrook — I was done. However, fate intervened, and after attempting to transfer, I had to stay at Lynbrook due to enrollment policy. Maybe, I had to fold anew — on a brand new sheet in order to find happiness.
…736…737…738… During junior year, my paper memories unfolded into a different meaning. After hosting day-long clinics in the Philippines, I retained my love for folding. One day, instead of shaping cranes as usual, I folded paper airplanes with our resident toddler Jerwin. The son of our facility caretaker, Jerwin was one of the most resilient people I have ever met. He and his mother grew up poor: he wore charity store clothes, slept on a bamboo mat and ate mainly leftovers. However, if origami had taught me one thing, it would be that even if you don’t have much, you can always make something incredibly precious; whether folding a friend’s favorite animal as a gift, or casting a paper airplane into a drafty Chinese classroom. For the first time that summer, I heard him speak: “Ano ang pangalan mo?” (What is your name?). I was only able to respond in English, but to my surprise, he exclaimed, “Kuya Robert!” (Older brother Robert!). Weeks later, while distributing backpacks and school supplies to Filipino children, Jerwin was the first person to receive a care package from me, and he immediately unsheathed a packet of paper. While I previously folded in order to escape from myself, I now folded to create something new for others. Through paper, I was able to provide someone with a memorable experience, possibly a step closer toward their dream.
Fold after fold, memory after memory, origami brought me closer to my true goal: connecting with others, and knowing that I’ve created precious memories with them. Despite my fear of interaction in school, I was able to brave my insecurities and find a few people that I cherish with my soul. Moving onto senior year, I started to fold origami less and less, but I filled this void with many other activities, meeting new people in the process. With every new crane I folded, I filled the solitude left behind during my freshman year, reminiscing upon these beautiful memories more and more. As origami transforms a mere sheet of paper into something timeless, I have learned to shape my own path, finding joy in not just folding origami but also creating new bonds and strengthening old ones. I’m excited for what the future holds.
…998…999…1000… Among a flock of cranes, my dream has been fulfilled.
No matter how bleak things may be, always remember to dream. The world is your creative space — a fresh sheet of square paper. Cherish your creases and hold your completed crane with pride. Remember to always place your crane next to everything else that you love. One day, your dream may come true.
