Beyond Existence

Regrets? Not now! I tell myself. The divinity of Tinago Falls’ panorama comes with a price, they say – an ecstatic ride in a habal-habal motorbike which makes you accept that you can die any moment. At this tantivy indeed, I can die any moment.
The rebellious air rudely fills every pore on my half sunburnt face as the sweltering April summer heat vivifies both the camouflaged grin on the driver’s face reflected on the side mirror and the fist-sized rocks on the eccentric road we’re in. With fatal bumps and insane speed, we can crash any time. I grapple the driver’s wobbly anorak tighter while I try not to imbibe the dust but he suddenly drops the trail.
“We’re here. Hurry! God’s putting a show down below”, he speaks subtly in his local Filipino tongue. I pass him the bill. He reengages his death engine. He leaves me speculating.
I begin a seemingly never-ending series of trekking up and sloping down the ferny, tapered boondocks. Spiral earth staircases designed with occasional tiny, serpentine tiles here, chalky exuviaes clung to rattan fences there. Few steps down the terrain, at last, I get to behold the cataract of a waterfall that waited for me so long.
I put down my bag, fish out my camera and notice all the people throng around her. From afar and up there on the brave mountain that suspends the watercourse, my lenses zoom out and spot her. There! The stalwart goddess of Tinago!
She stands conspicuously on top with her faded blue clamdiggers, a white round-collar raglan overcoat and braided, ashy hair. Her round eyes albeit closed blur the edges of her crinklecut temple and scarred eyebrows.
She breathes deep. We stifle. She spreads out her arms. Anxiety espouses the raging water. She tiptoes and finally, she leaps high in the air. From my view, she morphs into a dignified skylark defying to kiss the sun. She now flips, and dives! I quickly snap the button.
As she effortlessly somersaults the 150 meter high thin air with the splashes of water competing on her backdrop, she redefines elegance. She evenly pirouettes just right before she hits the gaping, turquoise water headfirst. She cascades deep, silence lingers. As she rises out for rebirth, she smiles again. Applause then cajole dazed hearts. Diving fearlessly that peak, she’s not called a goddess for nothing.
“That was the most beautiful dive I’ve ever seen my whole life”, I loudly commend.
A British guy beside me adds, “For a blind woman like her, that was more than beautiful.”