Skip to main content

डेप्थ

Depth of field
THROUGH the tear ducts pass the soul, traipse on to places of the heart as the body rests in slumber. Polynesians believe that.

Kailangan pala na walang muta sa mata para walang sagabal sa pagliliwaliw ng kaluluwa sa kung saan-saang lupalop.

Naniniwala naman ang mga bihasa sa feng shui na magkaugnay ang paningin, puso, at tagumpay sa negosyo… kikita kung titingin nang buong linaw sa nilalaman ng puso, ‘yung tinatawag na
20/20 vision… more so in a looker as a 38-26-36 made visible by sexual contact lenses…

Surah 22 (Al-Hajj): 46, “Verily it is not the eyes that grow blind, but it is the hearts which are in the breasts that grow blind.”

In Egyptian myth, the heart of the deceased is weighed in the scale against the feather of the goddess Ma’at, who personifies Order, Truth, what is right.

Arrhythmic hearts that go on a blackout go dead beat, it’s an epidemic-- cardiac failure or infarction… one of the leading three killers worldwide… warnings off the Quor’an go unheeded.

So we can construe that matapobre has poor eyesight, not the affliction of those who feasts their eyes on glowing cleavage, symptom of a visual impairment called “melon-cholia”…

What about matalino? Uh, a 2005 British study found that “creative types averaged between four and 10 partners.” Was it not a British poet of yore who wrote, “How do I love thee, and thee, and thee? Let me count the, duh, what’s there to count anyways?”

But Dennis Fetalino kept on telling me to go lower, lower where to hurl a glance or stare at… heedful and so far I’ve heard complaints galore— that I’ve been throwing dagger looks that rip to shreds their panties or my eyes convey smoldering passions that stoke body temperature to typhoid and dengue levels or burn down their pants, or the naughty glint in my eyes are live embers that kindle interest in playful arson.

Flee from temptation they all do… after leaving me a forwarding address.

See here bro, all I’ve been doing since is trying to fathom the so-called “depth of field.” Fields like that, in my book as a farmer, need to be plowed, harrowed, irrigated, or inundated—so planting a rise there is always fun.

Between you and me, all I’ve been seeing down there on lookers are chickens that go peck-peck-peck…

Ah, feng shui-assigned zone for recognition, notoriety, accolades, fame, and business success is the south. Sa timog-- pinaikli yatang katumbas ng mga katagang “titimong hamog.”

Upang lapatan ng lunas ang lupaypay na kasikatan o humahapay na kabuhayan, maglagay ng bulaklak ng mirasol (sunflower) o sinturon ng hindi totoong rebentador sa bahaging timog ng pamamahay… mahusay ding panlunas ang pigurin o imahen ng paboreal (peacock), siyam na patalim, siyam na kandilang pula, siyam na panulat… basta matulis na bagay, kaya yata madalas akong itoka ng aking maybahay sa naturang lugar.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

ALAMAT NG TAHONG

SAKBIBI ng agam-agam sa kalagayan ng butihing kabiyak-- at kabiyakan, opo-- na nakaratay sa karamdaman, ang pumalaot na mangingisda ay napagawi sa paanan ng dambuhalang Waczim-- isang bathala na nagkakaloob sa sinuman anumang ibulwak ng bibig mula sa bukal ng dibdib. Pangangailangan sa salapi na pambili ng gamot ng kapilas-pusong maysakit ang nakasaklot sa puso ng matandang mangingisda. 'Di kaginsa-ginsa'y bumundol ang kanyang bangka sa paanan ng Waczim. Kagy at umigkas ang katagang kimkim noon sa kanyang dibdib: "Salapi!" Bumuhos ng salapi-- mga butil at gilit ng ginto-- mula papawirin. At halos umapaw sa ginto ang bangka ng nagulantang na mangingisda, walang pagsidlan ang galak, at walang humpay ang pasasalamat sa mga bathala. Nanumbalik ang kalusugan ng kabiyak ng mangingisda. At lumago ang kabuhayan, naging mariwasa ang magkapilas-puso na dating maralita. Nilasing ng kanyang mga dating kalapit-bahay ang mangingisda-- na hindi ikina

Cal y canto con camote

FENG shui (literally, wind water flow) lore has it root crops embody a hidden store of treasures. Say, a local food conglomerate needs yearly 35,000 metric tons of cassava for livestock feed-- the available local supply falls short of 13,000 tons. Cassava granules sell for around P9 a kilo. Demand for the same root crop to be used in liquor manufacturing is hitting above the roof. Why, raising cassava is a no-brainer task— this is one tough crop that can grow in the most hostile patches of earth, providing sustenance for ages to dwellers in sub-Saharan parts of Africa. While the hardy cassava is nearly pure starch, the lowly sweet potato or kamote is considered by nutritionists as a super food, the most nutritious of all vegetables— kamote levels of Vitamin A are “off the charts, rich in antioxidants and anti-inflammatory properties.” A fist-sized kamote can supply a day’s dose of glucose to fuel the brain, muscles, and organs, so they claim. Count the country lucky

Every single cell of my body's happy

I got this one from Carmelite Sisters from whose school three of my kids were graduated from. They have this snatch of a song that packs a fusion metal and liebeslaud beat and whose lyrics go like this: "Every single cell of my body is happy. Every single cell of my body is well. I thank you, Lord. I feel so good. Every single cell of my body is well." Biology-sharp nerds would readily agree with me in this digression... Over their lifetimes, cells are assaulted by a host of biological insults and injuries. The cells go through such ordeals as infection, trauma, extremes of temperature, exposure to toxins in the environment, and damage from metabolic processes-- this last item is often self-inflicted and includes a merry motley medley of smoking a deck a day of Philip Morris menthols, drinking currant-flavored vodka or suds, overindulgence in red meat or the choicest fat-marbled cuts of poultry and such carcass. When the damage gets to a certain point, cells self-de