Dreaming of Stars
By Mario T. Juanillo
COUNTING stars used to be my favorite pastime. But that was when my vision was still 20/20. On clear, moonless nights, I'd spend hours sprawled on the corrugated roof of our house watching the stars traversing the skies. To me, this was a more pleasurable thing to do than watching the show "Okay Ka Fairy Ko" on our neighbor's black-and-white TV. Seeing stars-the real ones with hot, burning gases-allowed me to dream big dreams.
Identifying constellations and naming stars excited me as a 10-year-old. To my thinking then, knowing them set me apart from my less cerebral playmates. Whatever other value my knowledge of stars gave me, I did not understand. But being able to name constellations made me a star in my own right because others were impressed by my knowledge how however little.
Like any child who loves to dream, my goal was to be the first person to count the visible stars. Grade school astronomy was not teaching me enough about stars and I assumed that I would be ableto count them all and give them names.
Ambitious? You bet. Until now, I haven't really figured out how many visible stars are there. But then again, being visible is relative.
My exposure to more advanced books made me understand that stars are innumerable. It also made me realize that being able to name one after whomever I like would not change the fact that the number of stars that remain unnamed is countless. Thus, such an attempt would not at all change the course of the universe.
When I was a little older, I learned that most of the stars already have names and that, for the sake of convention, we have to stick to international nomenclature or we would end up claiming things that are not ours. It took one failed exam in astronomy for me to understand that all the fuss and buzz about these astronomical names and figures are nothing more than a waste of time. People are bound to forget them when they grow older anyway.
I have grown so tired of counting stars that I stopped the exercise. My sight is not serving me well and I am beginning to appreciate only those things that I can look at up close. The last time I appreciated the beauty of stars was when I put on my contact lenses for the first time and chanced upon the clearest night I've experienced in the past 10 years. No fog, no scratches, no interference pattern, no hazy images-only stars in various colors and in their full brilliance. And my childhood dream was almost resurrected.
As my knowledge of astrophysics grew, my fixation with counting the stars and naming them waned. Now I can understand very well that every time I look at stars, I am looking at what has been. And since I am looking at the past, why make a big deal out of it? Who knows, Orion may already have lost its belt in its "true" present state (not the present of those stars as perceived by us but the present as it is happening now). Because light travels and the light emitted prior to the explosion of Orion's "belt" is yet to reach us, we still see them holding Orion's pants in our present. So, does knowing how many stars make up Orion matter? I say no.
I am not really over with stars yet. Although I don't have the same passion for them that I had more than 15 years ago, I still try to find time to look up the sky (even if my sight is limited to an arm's length) to be reminded that as long as there are stars, I should not stop dreaming.
I used to dream of being an astrophysicist. If I would become very brilliant in that field I'd skyrocket to full stardom, I thought. But I bade goodbye to that dream a long time ago when teaching welcomed me with open arms.
Now as a high school Physics teacher, I am dreaming that someday, someone from my class will outshine others and tell the world exactly how many stars are there. Maybe that will not be his exact point. Maybe, just maybe, that student will find the key to understanding why we are here in this world -- looking at stars, dreaming about them, sometimes with our mouths open in awe. So when I teach, I always teach my students to dream and to love to dream. True, there are plenty of reasons to dream but nothing beats dreaming about a star.
I cannot help but mention how stars are treated in this country. And this time, I am talking about a different type of stars. What is it that their supporters go ridiculously gaga over stars? Until now I am wishing upon a star that I might become one someday. But then it's clear to me that I'll never amount to much as an astrophysicist. A shining star? Maybe. And then I can be among the first to be featured in the Filipino version of Hollywood's Walk of the Stars.
My boss dreamt of stars and she was rewarded with a planet. What could the stars possibly have in store for me?
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