Batanes: Vuhus Island and Nothingness

There was no plan for me, as usual.

But the universe collides to make this time more unique than my first three trips to this place.

Seeing the other islands from the peak makes me wonder what is in there.

So I went.

I circled Adequey Island, the Goat Island. And I go, “where are the goats?” It was bare and rocky.

There was almost no shore to dock a boat. There was nothing much. Only silence, big waves, and short chasms.

Then off I went to Vuhus Island, the Cow Island. There were three farmers under the morning sun who hid under the huts when the sun scorched at noontime.

After lunch, they went fishing. And I was left. Alone, where I was.

I entertained myself. Took a nap. Walked. Stared. Looked around.

Then I realized I was in nothingness.

It is when you hear the sounds of waves, when the ocean was at low tide. At low tide, you can actually barely hear any sound of water. But you hear them anyway.

It is when you feel the breeze of wind and the easterlies on your cheeks. And you begin to be aware of its interval.

It is when you hear the squeaking of the windmill. And bother yourself at where the wind was coming from.

It is when you begin to count the possible rotation of the windmill when the wind blows.

It is when you begin to count the coconut trees. And the coconuts.

It is when you become aware of the sundown and see the colors of the sky.

It is when you count the few clouds in the clear blue sky.

It is when you hear the shift to high tide. And you count the sound of the waves.

It is when you lay down spontaneously on the grass and look up to wait for the stars to shine.

It is when you stare at the pale moonlight and count the times when clouds pass by.

It is when you still see the bright moon behind thick dark clouds and wait for it to shine gaily.

It is when you see airplanes fly in the night sky and count the beaming of its lights.

It is when the moon has hidden under the shadows of the hills. But you still see it glistening.

It is when you begin to count the stars by 5. Then by 10. Then by hundreds. Then by thousands.

And you realize, there are a gazillion stars above.

It is when you see Orion & Hercules, Andromeda and all the other constellations.

It is when you know that it is not a star or a satellite. It is when you know there is a rocket ship going up up and away!

It is when you sing your heart out without music and softly yell like Aerosmith -- “I don’t wanna miss a thing!!” And it is when you don’t wanna close your eyes and don’t wanna fall asleep. Because you might miss the third shooting star.

It is when you see a dozen shooting stars falling from the sky and all you could say in awe and excitement are the words “wish i may wish i might” all the time in all chances. And you tell yourself, you will make a wish when another comes. And the same thing happens. Then you laugh when it happens.

It is when you close your eyes but cannot sleep. Because you want to smell every moment in the night. Until you see the good morning star.

  

When nothingness gives you peace in your heart.

When it drains you empty.

Only to fill your heart with much love.

Then you feel you are in love again with life.

And you wanted to remain.

With all the sanity in your brain.

It is when you want nothing. But this.

And live. 

And continue this insanity.

The art of doing nothing.

Nothingness that makes you whole.