Zoom Past the Clock
Literally had no weekend this week.... had to work...
I know my other officemates do it all the time, but well, they're not me. They're probably not homebodies. I prefer to be in the house with my family on weekends because that's the time we're ALL at home. Makes it no fun to take day-offs during week days because that'll just leave me without anything to do for one whole day. I plan to make "bawi" this weekend. Walang labasan talaga!
ROOTS
Had been wondering about my ancestors recently. I find myself loving the idea that, watered down as the genial mix of my blood lines are, perhaps there used to be something exotic in it.
I am starting to rethink that there may be some credence to Aunt's theory that Ella and I have a mixture of weird magics in our ancestry. I just found out that the "third sense" is an actual genetic heritage from my father's side. I have it, three of my cousing have it, all of my father's siblings have it. I think even my Dad has it although he constantly denies it. (But I caught him knowing a few stuff he ought not to if he could not sense it). Maybe that's why the Burgoses have such melodramatic things to deal with. We see the world with an extra dimension.
Meanwhile, my mother's bloodlines can be traced back to Ireland. A certain Irish soldier named Gillegean spent some time in the Philippines during one of the world wars, sired a son, left the country and made the child a bastard. My Uncle George was big on the occult stuff and he was able to research that our blood lines may be traced to a clan in great Erin and our branch of the family may as well have been related to a priestess of some sorts. He claimed to have seen the short, dark-haired woman in one of his astral-whacha-macallit travels. (He's really kind of weird). I just note that Irish people are not characteristically short and dark-haired, unless they are from what the countryfolks believe the fae race.
This may all be hogwash, you know. I remember snickering when I heard my uncle tell stories. But last month, my mother was telling me how as a child, she saw and conversed with her grandmother and her grandmother's mother. She said she was about seven, and she didn't know then that both women had been long dead. She told me the story because, that particular morning, I unnerved her by wearing an old-fashioned duster (a house dress), with my hair held tightly in a bun. She suddenly realized I looked like her great grandmother.
When she told me this story, I realized that there's generation after generations of women on my mother's side who can sense things. And maybe do more.
MISSY'S GONE
Missy is our house dog. She's not pure bred and she's not especially pretty. But I don't like animals dying, if I can help it. Four months ago, she was ran over by an SUV. I am ashamed to say we did not bring her to the vet, because 1) My Dad was not inclined to go near the snarling, irritable hurt dog nor be inside a car with her, and 2) we do not have excess cash to pay a vet for whatever surgery he/she must peform. So more or less, the whole family was just waiting for Missy to die. She wouldn't eat, wouldn't move, she wanted to be alone and die. She was leaking weird gooey stuff all over the driveway where she lay. Yes, I admit, even I can see she will go soon.
But years of being told I touch people a different way, and years of being brainwashed that I have a healer-guardian angel watching over me (Rafael, if I'm not mistaken) made me decide to try to ease the dog's dilemma. I prayed over a dog (well, God made dogs too, right?) ((I can just hear Tito George guffawing, "Well, who's weird now, huh?")). I'm not sure what I was doing, but it involved a lot of messing around with the dog's mashed up energy and transferring some of mine. After a week of nightly healing sessions, Missy got better. A month later, she even got over her limp too. It can be just because the dog felt cared for and recovered. Or science stuff could have taken place. All I know though is that, she came back from wherever she was.
Then yesterday, I found out Missy ran out of the gate again and never came back. My family's theory is, bad men got her and she's probably dog stew by now. I realized I just borrowed some time for her, maybe lending her some of mine. I'm not sure how this thing goes. I've given her something of mine. Wasn't I supposed to feel her passing in connection to what I gave her? I didn't notice, so could that mean she's still alive somewhere? Or am I just caught in this stupid magical way of thinking? Seen to many movies, read too many books? When does magic become real? When do we call a gift, a gift? How do I know for sure I am not imagining things? All those times my parents asked me to lay a hand over them, were they just asking for some attention, a little outward show of love to help them heal or can I really do heal? Hay, does it really matter?
I can be pretty naive sometimes, true. I can be pretty weird too. But often times, I can be just so normal and average and non-descript and its hard to reconcile it with that part of me that gets so strange. Whatever it is, God gave it to me. Through my lineage, through my upbringing, through my own epiphanies.
I have a short number of years left to figure it out, but I will figure it out. But if the waters claim me before then, I can always ask Him when I get to hang out with Him. That'll be in a decade or so. Hopefully, a couple more decades, and that's really praying.
I know my other officemates do it all the time, but well, they're not me. They're probably not homebodies. I prefer to be in the house with my family on weekends because that's the time we're ALL at home. Makes it no fun to take day-offs during week days because that'll just leave me without anything to do for one whole day. I plan to make "bawi" this weekend. Walang labasan talaga!
ROOTS
Had been wondering about my ancestors recently. I find myself loving the idea that, watered down as the genial mix of my blood lines are, perhaps there used to be something exotic in it.
I am starting to rethink that there may be some credence to Aunt's theory that Ella and I have a mixture of weird magics in our ancestry. I just found out that the "third sense" is an actual genetic heritage from my father's side. I have it, three of my cousing have it, all of my father's siblings have it. I think even my Dad has it although he constantly denies it. (But I caught him knowing a few stuff he ought not to if he could not sense it). Maybe that's why the Burgoses have such melodramatic things to deal with. We see the world with an extra dimension.
Meanwhile, my mother's bloodlines can be traced back to Ireland. A certain Irish soldier named Gillegean spent some time in the Philippines during one of the world wars, sired a son, left the country and made the child a bastard. My Uncle George was big on the occult stuff and he was able to research that our blood lines may be traced to a clan in great Erin and our branch of the family may as well have been related to a priestess of some sorts. He claimed to have seen the short, dark-haired woman in one of his astral-whacha-macallit travels. (He's really kind of weird). I just note that Irish people are not characteristically short and dark-haired, unless they are from what the countryfolks believe the fae race.
This may all be hogwash, you know. I remember snickering when I heard my uncle tell stories. But last month, my mother was telling me how as a child, she saw and conversed with her grandmother and her grandmother's mother. She said she was about seven, and she didn't know then that both women had been long dead. She told me the story because, that particular morning, I unnerved her by wearing an old-fashioned duster (a house dress), with my hair held tightly in a bun. She suddenly realized I looked like her great grandmother.
When she told me this story, I realized that there's generation after generations of women on my mother's side who can sense things. And maybe do more.
MISSY'S GONE
Missy is our house dog. She's not pure bred and she's not especially pretty. But I don't like animals dying, if I can help it. Four months ago, she was ran over by an SUV. I am ashamed to say we did not bring her to the vet, because 1) My Dad was not inclined to go near the snarling, irritable hurt dog nor be inside a car with her, and 2) we do not have excess cash to pay a vet for whatever surgery he/she must peform. So more or less, the whole family was just waiting for Missy to die. She wouldn't eat, wouldn't move, she wanted to be alone and die. She was leaking weird gooey stuff all over the driveway where she lay. Yes, I admit, even I can see she will go soon.
But years of being told I touch people a different way, and years of being brainwashed that I have a healer-guardian angel watching over me (Rafael, if I'm not mistaken) made me decide to try to ease the dog's dilemma. I prayed over a dog (well, God made dogs too, right?) ((I can just hear Tito George guffawing, "Well, who's weird now, huh?")). I'm not sure what I was doing, but it involved a lot of messing around with the dog's mashed up energy and transferring some of mine. After a week of nightly healing sessions, Missy got better. A month later, she even got over her limp too. It can be just because the dog felt cared for and recovered. Or science stuff could have taken place. All I know though is that, she came back from wherever she was.
Then yesterday, I found out Missy ran out of the gate again and never came back. My family's theory is, bad men got her and she's probably dog stew by now. I realized I just borrowed some time for her, maybe lending her some of mine. I'm not sure how this thing goes. I've given her something of mine. Wasn't I supposed to feel her passing in connection to what I gave her? I didn't notice, so could that mean she's still alive somewhere? Or am I just caught in this stupid magical way of thinking? Seen to many movies, read too many books? When does magic become real? When do we call a gift, a gift? How do I know for sure I am not imagining things? All those times my parents asked me to lay a hand over them, were they just asking for some attention, a little outward show of love to help them heal or can I really do heal? Hay, does it really matter?
I can be pretty naive sometimes, true. I can be pretty weird too. But often times, I can be just so normal and average and non-descript and its hard to reconcile it with that part of me that gets so strange. Whatever it is, God gave it to me. Through my lineage, through my upbringing, through my own epiphanies.
I have a short number of years left to figure it out, but I will figure it out. But if the waters claim me before then, I can always ask Him when I get to hang out with Him. That'll be in a decade or so. Hopefully, a couple more decades, and that's really praying.
Comments
Post a Comment