Be careful about what you say
The other day, Wednesday, Aug. 20, the nation marked President Manuel L. Quezon’s 136th birthday.
Although he was no doubt a great leader of our nation, he wasn’t careful with his words.
If the nation is in economic and political turmoil today, blame it on Quezon when he asked that the Philippines, still part of the commonwealth of the United States, be granted independence.
“I would rather have a country run like hell by Filipinos rather than one run like heaven by the Americans,” he said in a speech.
Those were great words from a great leader, but they were self-fulfilling prophecy, a curse.
Sen. Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino, President Noynoy’s father whose death anniversary we commemorate today,
Aug. 21, probably didn’t mean it but he predicted his end in the words he used in praise of Filipinos.
“The Filipino is worth dying for,” Ninoy said.
You should learn from Quezon and Ninoy Aquino; you should be careful with the words you utter.
Haven’t you noticed that things you say especially about yourself, even if you didn’t mean them, became manifest in your experience?
A person who always says that he might get ill even when he’s healthy eventually becomes sick.
Conversely, people who always say they’re wealthy even if they’re lacking in finances eventually become rich.
Why? Because your words are very powerful.
You may not mean what you say but your subconscious mind takes note and makes your words manifest into your reality.
The subconscious mind cannot tell a joke from the real McCoy.
A father whose child had regular fits of asthma attacks always told friends he would give his right arm for his child to get cured.
Then, one day, he had a terrible accident that resulted in his right arm getting amputated.
From that time on, his child was cured of asthma (from “The Power of Your Subconscious Mind” by Joseph Murphy).
A well-known columnist once jokingly told his buddies that if he played a good round of golf, God could then take him away.
He was always a loser, but one day he played excellent golf.
His buddies said God must love him so much that day because he played golf well.
The guy looked up to heaven, raised both hands, and said: “God, take me, take me!”
He fell down right there and then, dead from a heart attack.
This story was not made up. The guy was Lito Catapusan, a columnist of the Manila Bulletin who replaced me as chief of crime reporters.
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