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Life Beyond The Sunset

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LIFE BEYOND THE SUNSET
by Eleazar Mirasol Famorcan
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The day I took my new job at Health & Home magazine several years ago, a colleague hung a sunset poster on my corner wall.

 

Can’t forget that friendly gesture.

 

And I like the picture.

 

It’s beautiful, refreshingly beautiful. Time and again, I swivel my chair and gaze at the mounted masterpiece captured in 1597 by Anthony Verlag’s lens. And time and again, it stirs the memory of some unclouded past sitting on a seaside bench of my mind, one that thrills me even to this day.

 

But that’s only a still photograph of a sunset. Not the real thing.

 

Last week, I took a vacation in Simara, a beautiful speck of an island floating in the waters of Romblon. There I first saw the light, dreamed dreams and watched sunsets—live.

 

In Simara, I had watched sunsets while curling up inside an abandoned outrigger canoe, or while leaning against a coconut tree, or while lying on my belly in the sun-baked sand. There I’d been awed by such a spectacular show; it had always been as if all heavenly bliss had ruptured through a hole in the thinning atmosphere and spilled over our old, darkened planet.

 

When the tide is in its low ebb, I’d watch backlighted people in wide-rimmed hats scouring the expanse of dry seabed for shells. Some other time I’d see sailboats silhouetted against the magnificent display of splendor and beauty, slicing the low, western sun, some so near I could hear them swish through the water, some so far away they would be just specks in the glistening sea.

 

Some Saturday afternoons, with time in our hands, my teen friends and I would comb the island’s white, fine-sandy beach, and toss pebbles into the sea. Then as the sun would hang inches above the horizon, we’d form a circle, talk about some cherished dreams and sing oft-repeated choruses.

 

I have always been halted and mesmerized by sunsets. Such daily spectacles of nature tell me of a Creator and His limitless creativity, of a supernatural, artistic Genius deftly directing the show from the wings of a celestial stage. They remind me of the tangible presence of God. They speak to me of His ability and availability to make beautiful even the final ticks of your life, my life. Beyond that, sunsets announce the promise of a new day, of hope.

 

But these days, I seldom go to Simara or to nearby Manila Bay and spend late afternoons watching sunsets. It seems that the fast-paced life has crowded out such a “time-consuming activity.” The glitz and glitter of the 20th century seem to have blocked my view of such spectacular extravaganza of nature.

 

Like many people, I live in Neon City. Fiesta fireworks and other man-made blaze easily capture my secular eye. I have learned to enjoy basking in the warm and blinding glow of klieg lights, headlights, flashlights, limelight.

 

It used to be different.

 

I remember a time I was sitting alone on Simara’s sea wall. Unblinking and with chin in hands, I was lost in that moment when the flaming ball began to slip beneath the horizon. On that particular day, it left a breathtaking scarf of color which swirled and eddied from one nook of the heavens to the other, rushing in shades of palest peach to radiant, glowing orange.

 

A friend, perhaps thinking I had that sinking sensation many people feel at the passing of another day, came up to me and asked, “Feeling lonely?”

 

Strangely, I was. The majestic sight left on its trail some nostalgic feelings sweeping over me like the cold sea breeze. And it spoke to me of some real, not-so-distant future where life teems with inconceivable splendors. Where you and I, earth’s weary pilgrims, could play a harp and wear a crown and walk on streets of gold.

 

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Last Updated on Wednesday, 25 March 2009 09:35  

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