LEFT-OVER foam roughly spelled out the name “ELY” after erstwhile PJI chair Bobby T. Capco took a long swig off his bottle, then pointed to the quaint suds spell. Haunting suds thought, that’s what we suspected it was and if Bobby had his drink in a can, we’d appropriately call it taunting can thought.
The late Eleazar Lopez, our regular beer buddy qua patron and advisor probably wanted to join us for a drink, so I poured out a frothy libation around our favorite drinking table at Estaya’s, the group’s usual hang-out. Small place, an eatery that takes pride in old-fashioned home cooking that draws a motley crowd from nearby government and customs brokerage offices at lunchtime. Off-hours, Estaya’s turns into a beer joint where we regularly repair to awaiting late-breakers that may call for a rematting of our paper’s city edition. A newsman’s routine can be like that of a lurking assassin out to waylay every lay along the way—yeah, good things come to those who wait in ambush.
When our beer budgets run on empty and that’s more the rule than exception, our haunt Estaya’s become Lestaya’s.
And it looks like the late Ely Lopez is the latest otherworldly presence or more likely a paterfamilias to haunt Estaya’s.
Or it just might be a lingering corpus, a body of energy spun off by Ely himself as he held himself rapt at that table, reworking the lyrics of songs to upload mischief and wry commentary on the issues of the day. He sang those overhauled songs in his daily radio program, Suma-total, eh ano ngayon?.
That can’t be a disembodied spirit or a ghost to spook, maybe try to speak to us.
We’d say it’s a thought form, katawang diwa. Higit nating nauunawa ang katawang lupa—the carnal body – pero meron din namang katawang diwa, or power-imbued thoughts that can take a form of its own.
“With our thoughts, we shape our world,” thus saith the Enlightened One or Buddha. And he never bothered to explain whatever that cryptic statement meant.
For all we care, he must have been referring to the practice of emanating spiritual assistants or companions through the sheer power of prayer and invocation— these beings simply emanate and become manifest in the life of the supplicant.
Invoke deviltry, fear, loathing, pride, torment and ignorance by thinking about ‘em. Voila! Unseen beings with such characteristics emanate and become manifest in the invoker’s life, pwe-he-he-he! Nowhere to send ‘em away as these beings keep close company of the supplicant.
Nothing secret, arcane, eldritch, occult or too mystical about one’s thoughts shaping one’s world. Buddha’s counsel wasn’t much of a warning—all-too plain and simple.
Can thoughts really screw up one’s world? Is that Buddha pulling our legs? How come some are earth-bound grovelling in deep shit while some are way out there trudging off like nobody’s business into the farthest reaches of space? How come women are from Venice and men are from marshes?
How come we weren’t thought, ehek, taught these things in school or on our mother’s sneeze?
Now, how did the Scriptures had it worded? Whatever ye sow, ye shall reap a thousandfold—each thought is a grain that can grow and bring forth fruits, maybe a sackful, perhaps a 20-footer container van, maybe an entire bonded warehouse.
Awfully wonderful how the train of thoughts or sheer nurtured consciousness can bring in a cargo of whatever’s ordered! Beats physics that explains every two-bit shred and tatter that we amass randomly into our lives.
The late Eleazar Lopez, our regular beer buddy qua patron and advisor probably wanted to join us for a drink, so I poured out a frothy libation around our favorite drinking table at Estaya’s, the group’s usual hang-out. Small place, an eatery that takes pride in old-fashioned home cooking that draws a motley crowd from nearby government and customs brokerage offices at lunchtime. Off-hours, Estaya’s turns into a beer joint where we regularly repair to awaiting late-breakers that may call for a rematting of our paper’s city edition. A newsman’s routine can be like that of a lurking assassin out to waylay every lay along the way—yeah, good things come to those who wait in ambush.
When our beer budgets run on empty and that’s more the rule than exception, our haunt Estaya’s become Lestaya’s.
And it looks like the late Ely Lopez is the latest otherworldly presence or more likely a paterfamilias to haunt Estaya’s.
Or it just might be a lingering corpus, a body of energy spun off by Ely himself as he held himself rapt at that table, reworking the lyrics of songs to upload mischief and wry commentary on the issues of the day. He sang those overhauled songs in his daily radio program, Suma-total, eh ano ngayon?.
That can’t be a disembodied spirit or a ghost to spook, maybe try to speak to us.
We’d say it’s a thought form, katawang diwa. Higit nating nauunawa ang katawang lupa—the carnal body – pero meron din namang katawang diwa, or power-imbued thoughts that can take a form of its own.
“With our thoughts, we shape our world,” thus saith the Enlightened One or Buddha. And he never bothered to explain whatever that cryptic statement meant.
For all we care, he must have been referring to the practice of emanating spiritual assistants or companions through the sheer power of prayer and invocation— these beings simply emanate and become manifest in the life of the supplicant.
Invoke deviltry, fear, loathing, pride, torment and ignorance by thinking about ‘em. Voila! Unseen beings with such characteristics emanate and become manifest in the invoker’s life, pwe-he-he-he! Nowhere to send ‘em away as these beings keep close company of the supplicant.
Nothing secret, arcane, eldritch, occult or too mystical about one’s thoughts shaping one’s world. Buddha’s counsel wasn’t much of a warning—all-too plain and simple.
Can thoughts really screw up one’s world? Is that Buddha pulling our legs? How come some are earth-bound grovelling in deep shit while some are way out there trudging off like nobody’s business into the farthest reaches of space? How come women are from Venice and men are from marshes?
How come we weren’t thought, ehek, taught these things in school or on our mother’s sneeze?
Now, how did the Scriptures had it worded? Whatever ye sow, ye shall reap a thousandfold—each thought is a grain that can grow and bring forth fruits, maybe a sackful, perhaps a 20-footer container van, maybe an entire bonded warehouse.
Awfully wonderful how the train of thoughts or sheer nurtured consciousness can bring in a cargo of whatever’s ordered! Beats physics that explains every two-bit shred and tatter that we amass randomly into our lives.
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