"Bianca Manalo: Miss Philippines 2009"
The motto of all angels is
"It is a wonderful life."
Wherever there is love,
An angel is flying by.
Angels help you carry the ball,
carry a tune, carry your weight
and carry on!
Your guardian angel knows you inside
and out and loves you just the way you are.
Angels keep the world safe for hummingbirds
and butterflies and rainbows in spring.
Angels keep it simple and always travel light
Angels love whispering secrets
and whistling in the dark
Whenever you hear music,
an angel is speaking to you.
Remember to leave space in your relationships
so the angels have room to play
Your guardian angel helps you
find a place when you feel there is no place to go.
Keep a spare angel in your pocket
Angels carry high-beam lights
to help you through the darkest hours
Whenever you feel lonely,
a special angel drops in for tea.
Every time you hear a bell,
another angel has earned its wings
Angels are with you every step of the way
and help you soar with amazing grace.
After all, we are angels in training
We are always "angels on call" for a friend
All we have to do is spread our wings and fly...
Malaysia is a country that may have one of the most interesting array of ghosts, probably because they aren't just foggy, misty or just hazy - sorry if I'm proven wrong. In their folklore, there are witches and wizards called Bomohs, the type of magic, either black or white is entirely up to them..and sometimes, they stray from their original paths, which does not bring about any good long term effects, as we'll soon know..
Bomohs like to use their magic to inflict pain on other people, mostly at the demand of some jilted lover or someone who is jealous of their beauty, and so forth.This time, I'm bringing on the subject of beauty.. Now, in not too long ago times, every woman and girl wanted to be pretty, they didn't care how, and they didn't think of the consequences that arose from their actions..
Many of these young girls chose to go to a Bomoh, to have small fine needles inserted into their faces (Cucuk), and other various parts they want to make beautiful. This, I believe, sort of stemmed from an inferiority complex, but what the hey,I'm here to tell the story..:)
So, these girls, as they say, were so beautiful, that whichever man she chooses will fall into the palm of her hands just like that. The story goes that one day, there's this young woman who was jilted by her lover for another much more pretty woman was so upset that she went to see a Bomoh. Well, the Cucuk worked, and soon, she got her man.
Fast forward to 50 years, and this girl was as beautiful as ever, no wrinkles, and crows feet..you get what I mean..Anyway..her husband died, and it was unbelievable how well she preserved her youth, she didn't tell anyone and nobody knew her secret. .That is...until the day she was about to die..
It is said that when you have your Cucuk done, you must have the same Bomoh to take them out, or you would not be able to die. She sent people all over the island to go looking for the Bomoh, and word finally reached that he was long dead.
As months progressed,her condition got worse, and there's nothing other people can do to help her, and soon, everybody left her..her body was decaying, and she smelt rotten, of stinking flesh,as her insides were rotting, but still, she can't go.
Finally, a skilled Bomoh, who had met with her last Bomoh, heard about her, and went to have a look..there, he found her barely alive, and in pain, he tried to take the fine needles out, and he did, and as he pulled out the last needle, he could hear her say give thanks to God for ending her suffering..
This story is true, by the way..just look up ancient Asian folklores, and search real hard, it's really fascinating..,and yet..totally scary! :)
I spent the next few days in a fog, barely seeing or hearing anything until the funeral. The one bright point I recall was a floral arrangement, heart-shaped and bursting with vivid red roses. When the service ended and the guests left, I gathered all the roses up into boxes and bags and took them home with me, intending to keep them forever in my grandfather's memory.
Unfortunately, I didn't know anything about preserving flowers, and within a few days my heaps of red roses wilted and crumbled. I tried to save a few, pressing them between the pages of books, but it was too late. Finally, I had to throw them all away.
Weeks later, I was sitting on my bed reading a book when the strangest thing happened: a few dried red rose petals fluttered out of nowhere and landed on the pages.
I froze in amazement then began trying to figure out where they could have come from. I knew I hadn't kept any flowers in this book, and even if I had, they would have fallen out when I turned a page. There was no wind in the room that could have blown around any petals I might still have had hiding somewhere.
Finally, I looked up realizing the only place they could have come from was the painting of roses on the wall above my bed.
I checked behind the painting, which had once hung in my mother's room, to see if she might have pressed a flower to the back. I found nothing.
There was no other explanation but the one I desperately wanted to believe - that my grandfather had seen the painting and used it to give me something to remember him by, something to hold on to.
I still have those petals today, though I haven't heard from my grandfather again. I like to think the petals symbolize that although all beautiful things eventually die, there are ways to treasure them long after their passing.
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