Taal

F. JORDAN CARNICE

“Philippine authorities are warning of a possible ‘explosive eruption,’ after Taal Volcano vented yesterday, spewing ash up to nine miles into the sky. Photographers captured the spectacular event, which generated countless lightning strikes in and around the ash column.” —The Atlantic (13 January 2020)

“All activities on Taal Lake should not be allowed at this time. Communities around the Taal Lake shores are advised to remain vigilant, take precautionary measures against possible airborne ash and vog and calmly prepare for possible evacuation should unrest intensify.” —PHIVOLCS, Taal Volcano Bulletin (15 July 2021, 8:00 AM)

A frightful elegance, a vision both menacing and seductive., This giant plume of gray streaked by sudden gnarled lines of white-blue and yellow, as if a toddler in tantrums is left with broken crayons and a blank wall. A hundred and twenty-five feet away from a violent spitting mouth, a group of children plays chase by the lake. Several kilometers more a wedding has to push through—perfume from bouquets mingles with sulfur and freshly-mown grass then marries the thickening ash cloaks. Eyes of guests, phones and cameras all to the spectacle like moth to a fire, as the bride’s billowing mast of a veil appears fastened to the lofty smoke beyond. We do not look away because we are so used to this: How we find it hard to separate the charismatic from the catastrophic. The coconut trees around have soon given up their crowns, fronds like losing the last of their pride. The skies have dimmed while cats and dogs and birds dart about from everywhere as if everything is in a mysterious, dramatic production. We know, we are always drawn to too much beauty.