SUNRISE/SUNSET

I’m not exactly a “beach” person though I am not necessarily averse to it either. My ambivalence towards the beach has more to do with the fact that I can’t swim. As such, the most I could do when I’m at the beach is to “soak” myself in the water, which is not exactly the most enjoyable of all the activities vis – a – vis to the boisterous partying in the water surrounding me. However, the good news is that there is more to the beach than just simply swimming. In most cases, the location of the beach has some of the most beautiful natural sceneries that one can feast his/her eyes on and I happened to be an avid nature lover especially of the sunrise and sunsets over the sea. Such is the case during my recent vacation trip to Virgin Resort at Laiya, San Juan, Batangas. Virgin Resort, one of the several resorts that dot the area, is situated right in the middle of “Laiya Cove” located at the eastern most coast line of Batangas that opens to the South China Sea. Anyway, during on my first day at the said beach, I was as usual “engrossed’ at my favorite “activity” at the beach, i.e., soaking. Probably it is the clear blue sky, or the crystal clear waters, or the strong splashing waves, or maybe it was all of it that enticed me to get out of the waters and lie down on my back on the shores and stare straight at the sky above while the cool water splashes and washes over me. It is then that I noticed that how beautiful was the sky that afternoon at the beach. Not much cloud, no skyscraper or tower to clutter the view, not much glare from the sun either. All one can see is wide, expansive, blue just plain, bright, cheerful blue. Funny, how can somebody like me could miss something so plain, so simple, so obvious, yet so beautiful. I ended up staring at the clear blue skies for an hour or so. As I was staring, it came to me that behind that beautiful, “unpierceable” blue “curtain” is the eternal darkness of empty space. Although, it is an obvious fact but still staring at the sky, I find it hard to fathom that there is actually “something” beyond the skies. I remembered in my reading of Mongol history that Genghis Khan before his campaigns would remove his belt and slung it over his shoulder and climb up the mountains alone to pay his respect to Tangri or Tengri, the Eternal Blue Heavens. He would spend a day and a night at that. What does he sees when he stares at the Tengri? Does he wonder as well? Although between Genghis Khan and me, we’re 800 years apart and he was in Mongolia and I’m in Laiya but still wasn’t it fascinating to wonder, to stare? That evening, around dinner time (7pm maybe), as I was waiting in the open bungalow for my dinner to be served, I noticed something over the horizon. A huge yellow ball, the size of a peso coin if you are able to reach it with your hand and get it, came out from under the sea and hung over the dark skies. The moon in it’s fullness shone so brightly that it dimmed the twinkling stars around it, smothering them in it’s brightness. It was like a giant lamp or more like a humongous flashlight that illuminates only a slice of the sea, leaving the rest in total darkness. The sea under the moonlight looked so calm and tranquil that it actually betrays the actual rippled turbulence. The whole scenery is like something that plucked out from a painting or any drawing of the moonlit sky over a body of water. It looked so “artsy” except that it is real and is directly in front of me that night. I can’t help but be reminded of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata (one of my favorite actually). Ludwig van Beethoven wrote Moonlight Sonata sometime in 1801 (over 200 years remove from my time). Moonlight Sonata, is a piano solo whose music is soft, literally quiet, and serene. The first time I strain my ears to hear the music, I felt I was strolling beside a lake and staring at the moon and enamored by the beauty of the moment must like I was then that evening except that there is no music in my ears (and I forgot to bring the radio or the CD containing the said piece neither was the song in my sister’s ipod) and I wasn’t strolling beside the shore. It made me wonder however. What Beethoven sees in such a beautiful moonlit night to inspire him to write such an immortal piece that captures the moment? Am I seeing what he is seeing? Or more accurately, was I seeing what Beethoven wanted me to see as depicted in my piano sonata? The following morning, for unknown reason (probably felt refreshed and invigorated by the events the day before), I woke up early, around 530. And as I opened the door of the cottage that we’re staying for the night, I discovered that it was already morning and everything is quite “illuminated” but the sun hasn’t fully come out yet. I thought that this is probably my lucky day and that I get to see the sunrise that morning. And so I set out to the shore, bringing along a chair and planted it near the water out in the open beach where I could clearly see the sun slowly rising up from the east behind the mountains. And turning my head to my right, I saw the moon now pale white setting over the mountains running away, fleeing maybe from the chasing sun. “The moon and sun shall never meet, one would eternally chase after the other but they will never meet” as the some forgotten old poem would say (or something to that effect). But of course, the sun and the moon do meet….. during eclipses. Between the chasing sun and the fleeing moon on that beautiful morning lies the “serene” sea in the middle. It’s rhythmic waves gently crashing onto the shores while further away, the crystal green waters reveals the bed on which that water rests. On it’s surface, schools of dancing fish, jumping out of the waters cheering, beckoning the sun to come out and play with them. What a sight to behold! Too bad, I could only see what’s in front of me and because of that, I had to constantly turn my head, paying only intermittent attention to the sun, to the moon, to the dancing fishes, to the serene sea. I wish I could “see” the whole thing in just a glance but I can’t. As the sun slowly rises, it resembles a lot like the New Year Ball at Time Square in New York but instead of descending from its pole, the sun is rising up from its invisible pole. Its brightness seemed quite subdued until it reaches it’s “peak” (of the imaginary pole, figuratively speaking). Right then, the sun blasts its full brightness in all direction, covering everything with a golden glow and blinding anyone who dares attempt as to even peek at its silhouette. Even as I was “blinded” by brightness, I felt a sense of renewal, a sense of energy, a sense of hope, a sense of life. I could only imagine that millennia ago when the first man came out its cave, he must have felt the same thing as I am feeling that morning, a sense of new beginning after a night of total darkness. It is probably due this feeling that our ancestors worship the sun, the light, the day and imbibe the sunrise with the meaning of renewal. It is only then that I came to realize a fundamental truth, which is “we are the reason”. We are the reason that what we came to know to be beautiful is beautiful. The sun, the moon, the sea, and even the fish don’t know what beauty is. Heck, they don’t even care that they are part of a choreograph performance that defines beauty. We define beauty. We are the reason that beauty exists, that the sun, the moon, the sea, the world and everything around us exist. In fact, we are the reason that reason exists, that meaning has their meaning. We are the reason. And it also us, that “ruin” beauty, that erase beauty when we no longer enjoy them, when we “busied” ourselves with whatever we’re doing, when we no longer get up to see the sunrise and instead opt to sleep through the day, when we no longer stayed up to gazed at the fullness beauty of the moon and instead glued ourselves to the nightlife. We are the reason.