Saturday, October 22, 2011

sa likod mo

Disclaimer: This may be kinda creepy.

Too much My Ghost Story and Celebrity Ghost Stories on BIO leads me nowhere but to believe that there is zone between heaven and Earth that allows spirit to communicate and interact with the living for a moment's time. I've always been a believer of the afterlife, but it has come full circle when these two shows barraged me with testimonies of spirits trapped, visiting, or simply still lolling on Earth.

My mom's genes passed down a peculiar trait: a mildly open sixth sense. I and my siblings would like to believe that we are more capable of feeling the unearthly souls strolling upon us compared to our peers. And in the brood, I'd like to assume that I am the more "blessed" (Yes, I like to look at it that way.)

Once, way back in college, while listening to our goddam hot professor, my attention was stolen by this slowly emerging face on the white board. For seconds, a man's face seemed to have been coming out of the board. I was rattled. I don't know what to do—whether to say it to my seatmate or to just bottle it in me. You know, episodes like that are easily brushed by the ungifted. People will not but ascribe to hyperactive imagination what I've seen or felt. After the man's face disappeared, my classmate who was sitting in front of me turned to me. Her face was white with loose powder but I can see beneath it how pale and strained she was. Aghast, she was. Our minds met. If I have sixth sense, that classmate and friend of mine is more notorious for having an opened third eye. So I was not daydreaming. There was someone, something on the board. We both agreed to shut up until the classes ended. Sharing what we just saw would cause a stir so we zipped our mouths.

Two years ago, also in college, it has been a household routine for me to be the last one to go to bed. Usually, I'm left downstairs in front of the computer. In the wee hours of morning, I am just too sure that someone was always there behind me. A little girl. If my imagination would permit me to stretch some details, she's as if wearing a Sunday dress and a shoes with strap. She would look over the shoulder trying to observe what I'm doing. Like a curious kid, she was just there standing behind me looking at what's still keeping me up. She's not hurting me so it was not a fuss but knowing she's there and that I could feel her presence, it's already enough to prove my utter unworldly gift. At times, it felt like her purpose to visit me was to remind me that it's already late and that I had to stop and sleep already.

I can't erase from my memory that one time too when I and our househelp were talking to each other. Our kasambahay was standing in front of me, just a step away, asking me what I would like to have for merienda. It was dusk already. At my back was the hanging dining table light already lit. I was talking to her when suddenly a shadow suddenly passed behind her. I felt a cold shiver coming over me. "May dumaan sa likod mo," I quipped.

With too much exposure and experience, I guess I've outgrown the fear. Or maybe, I'm just still touched by an angel that no one harms me even if I can see what most naked eyes cannot. All this said, I affirm that souls exist. Souls, spiritis, ghosts, call them what you want as long as it is not the kind of humanity or spirituality rather the thin slice of our earthly image that separates from the body when the time is ripe for us to depart from the plane of the living.

I've never been a fan of ghost movies, Paranormal Activites and the likes. Sheesh. Yes, there are angry souls out there too, but the flicks are cheap tricks of horrifying yourself. Try filling in my shoes. You'd know what is like to be spooked out.

In one of the episodes of My Ghost Story, there is a mourning mom there who is reeling from the loss of her 26-year-old son who died in a car accident. With a help of a psychic, they tried to "talk" to the son whom the mom thought was always there inside their house.

Psychic puts on her recorder.
Mom: "Son, are you here?"
Psychic plays back the recorder. There was a voice, "Yes."
Mom: "I love you, dear."
Voice: "I love you, mom."

That is one touching ghost story.

And to acknowledge the departed, to embrace this "gift," has helped me to live. Because you see, the body perishes but the soul lives on. You have to make your soul worthy to have its rest. I believe that when a soul comes back to earth, he is still trying to figure out a thing. So you see, the soul will be always there. Forever. As we advance to the day of the dead, just my two cents here for all the living (take it or leave it, it's your choice), you can spend the rest of your days hitting the gym, looking good, and poring over the whatnot to be admirable, but seriously, the soil will gobble you and eat every square inch of you. Never neglect that life is more than what you see. Place more virtue on happiness than vanity. You don't want to be a troubled ghost, don't you?

And oh, I also see souls of animals, mostly cats. So to all pet owners, yes, your pooches and kitties have souls too. Respect them.

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