The Self

The Self
What is the self? Philosophers have pondered about the question but in vain and have ended up in ambiguity. Is it a person or does the person live outside it? Is it a living being that walks and talks and tries to struggle with adversities of life. As religions say, does the value of the self reside in the human heart and it being aligned with God? Is the self an irony tackling with life’s problems? When does the self feel contented? When does it experience remorse? Does the self live with dreams that the Universe can satisfy. Does the self live with the power of positive thinking? The self has tried the power of positive thinking by writing all its wishes and writing it so that the Universe can accomplish it, but all of it is no avail. Existential Philosophers define the as a chaotic entity and having no purpose. But even their philosophies were goal driven. What does the self value in life? What is its intimate desire? What idea can ponder on the intimate meaning of the self? Is the self a ritual of religion? Does the self have a personal relationship with God? Why is the self questioning itself? Why does the meaning of the self end up in ambiguity? What is the ultimate meaning of the self? Can the self be contented in the world of desires and hopes? What happens to the self when prayers are not answered? Yes a tiny voice inside the self reassures the self everything is hunky dory. What is the meaning of exalted existence? Is the self a tiny worm that craves to God for wanting things done? Does the self loud-mouth God when he does not answer prayers. Is the self a mathematical equation who lives life with a tick-tock of a clock? Is the self a living poetry of meaning? Is the self absurd as Camus pointed it to be? Is the self a pain in the ass? Is the self prone to ridicule? Is the self a shameless entity? Is the angst of the self real? What does the self want to experience? What happens to the self when the thrill of life is gone? Is God the sacred presence in the self? Why not leave the self in God’s hands and ask God to forgive and condole our inequities? Is God the answer for the self? Sometimes the self experiences apathy and hatred and yet ironically the self is prone to narcissism. The self is quite a contradiction? Why give importance to self? Is the self given with a mind to think? What does the self do in times of adversity? What is the self dreaming of fortunate weathers? Is the self God given? Or is it a tool for the disposal of the mind? Why does the self experience the irony of existence? Patience and passion are tools of hope. Does the self need to live life untainted with sin? Does the self have to succumb all of its hopes, dreams and desires to God? Can the self live without God? The self is a mystery of questions and riddles unanswered. It is said in the scripture: Love God with all your mind, soul and spirit. But a Christian life is not an easy one. It is true that we all have shortcomings and we are tainted with sin. But the good thing is that sins are forgiven and our names are written in the book of life. We have to invite God into our life and make God a participator of the self. Does life more become precious when God is with the self? I have tried to invite God into the presence of the self. But things which I anticipate have not changed? I feel sorry for having cursed God. But I am an always hopeful self looking for good times to come into my life. Each day of my life I try to surrender more and more to God and try to live a life pleasing to him. Yes life is a gentle song of humor and irony. The self has to discover about God’s purpose for the self. The self has to be intuitive to God’s speech. Does the time spent in prayer have a value? Does truth and morality and faithfulness matter to the self? If so the self is in God’s sight. God can embrace the self in mystic harmony. It says in the Bible by Christ, master who had 90 sheep lost one of them and the master when to search the lost sheep and on finding it he became overjoyed. The Holy Spirit is a loving spirit who overlooks our sin and our faults. I feel that life in Christ is the only true meaning for the self. The sign of the self is a return of God to the self, a fond invitation given out of love for God.

July 28th 2019

July 28, 2019
Morning Daffodiled into a song. A chorus of hymns floated through the sky. All is delight with me. I thank God Jehovah for giving me blessings. Time moved on at a musical pace.
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I want to write about some reminiscences I spent at Varkala beach, a virgin beach in Kerala. The waves are soothing balm and waters are tranquil. Just overlooking the beach is a hill called Sin Looser Hill a very strange name. I had in company with me an English Woman called Susana. Actually she was half Indian and half English and she had a wheatish complexion. Early in the morning we strolled across the hill with gentle monsoon breeze caressing our cheeks. There were lots of foreigners ambling with us. Watching the music of the sea, splaying waves across the coast line was so sumptuous. A man came and queried is as to wanting a pouch. Soon it became clear to us that he was selling marijuana. We took a packet a small pouch and paid him 100 Rupees. We lit a cigarette and happily contemplated nature. Later on we had a rich delicacy at Mama Choms, a restaurant run by a German couple. It was made of Bacon Toast, Eggs and tomatoes. After having eaten breakfast we strolled on the beach. We came to a most amazing bookshop which had books in all the languages of the world. You can exchange your book and pick another from there. Susana picked Harry Potter from there and I picked Derrida’s Writing and Difference. Susana was not philosophically inclined. Susan wore a bikini and she ran in to catch the waves. I too followed her in eager delight. We spent a whole day up to evening on the beach. Our night was passionate poem. We made love like blossoming flowers. The bed became a sensual flower of ecstasy. Varkala has made a man out of me. It has bolted the experience of me to be a writer. I was able to happily live my fictional self.

Assorted Drabble

Assorted Drabble
This is a strange story that I heard. While the Vietnam War was going on a missionary went to Vietnam to preach the gospel. He had a translator. Later on the missionary went back to USA. The translator was arrested for his Christian belief. Feeling all is lost, he began to experience woe. In prison he was asked to clean toilets. While cleaning toilets he came across pages used as toilet paper. To his surprise it was pages from the Bible. He washed the shit of the pages and read the scripture avidly. This comforted him a lot. Later on he was released and he escaped on a boat to Thailand. His papers were ready and he immigrated to USA as a refugee.

This happened when my uncle died. I and my brother in law went to his house to bring the things. At that time it was raining and rain seeped through the door into the kitchen. When we looked into the puddle of water, to our surprise we found an image of Uncle’s face.

While I was reading the psychiatrist Jung’s autobiography: Memories Dreams and Reflections a strange thing happened. I was reading about the alter ego of Jung, an archetype called Philemon. I went to attend a phone call. To my surprise, the candle fell on the book and caught fire. Very large parts of the book were burnt.

Comrade Kuttapan

Comrade Kuttapan is a keen Bible Freak and a staunch communist. Quite an incongruity there but doesn’t matter. As a matter of fact, apart being a Communist Party member he is unemployed. He spends his days in the party office discussing of what is going on in Cuba, the last remnant of Communist Rule. Finally the party echelon decided to get him elected as a district party president. Comrade Kuttapan filed his nomination papers. A month before the elections, Comrade Kuttapan was cycling on a narrow road where a group of mobsters attacked and stabbed him to death. Rumors are agog that the Communist party was responsible for it for they wanted to get sympathy votes. Other tales surrounding his death was he was murdered by the thugs of the congress party. Comrade Kuttapan’s murder is an unknown mystery.

July 26th 2019

It was rather a boring day. I, being an English Teacher wonder how to get children interested in Literature. Children are more fascinated by social media and books are dull sauce for them. I was narrating on the Tale of Two Cities but none of them had any interest. I am worried by the fact that my finances are running low. I am having no luck with lotteries. I wonder when the day will come when I can write the whole day without being disturbed. I have reached 49 and I am tired of teaching English to school students. I want to travel to countries and places and I want to write passionately about my experiences Life should be a carnival of joy. Life should be a laxative that bursts out of the soul. Life should be a dream of bringing out happiness. Life should be a mytho-poetic dream. The sweet sensations of the body wake up like flowers. Morning is smelling like cologne. I am drowned in champagne of thought. The body wakes up to the music of joy. My feelings are like a new born babe. I am not drowning in the myth of fear. I am joy with a ship to anchor. I am passion poetry. I have sunk the myth of existence to value and purpose.

From the Bible

These are some quotes I found in the Bible and I found them to be interesting.
‘The Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.’ It’s right that the Holy Spirit knows that we will be tempted and we have to overcome temptations.

It says in the Gospel of Mathew 27:25 that ‘let his (Christ) blood be on us and our children’. This is a classic example of a generational curse and this curse bore fruit as the Holocaust. The Bible is very clear that we have to bear caution with what we utter from our mouth.

Jesus was given a crown of thorns to wear, a very dastardly deed. Crown of Thorns as an idiom means a good outcome of a course of action. Let the crown of thorns happen in my life.

Jesus said to them the Pharisees that the temple which breaks down will be built within three days. But they did not understand that Jesus was talking about his own body and its resurrection. Building the temple as an idiom means a miraculous happening. Oh Jehovah: Let Building the temple happen in my life.

Pilate’s Wife
Pilate was the Roman Governor to whom Christ was brought to be punished. At that time Pilate’s wife said to him not to take a responsibility for those actions And Pilate washed his hands and said he will in no way be responsible for that action. Pilate’s wife as an idiom means showing keenness and discernment. We should be Pilot’s Wife.

Philosophical Fiction

Philosophical Fiction
I have started a new genre of writing called as Philosophical Fiction. Philosophical Fiction represents the savory Biryani (rice mixed with meat and vegetables. Philosophical Fiction aims to created an art-novel with dissemination of ideas. In one sense, it is a written painting with the splurge of colors that a encompassed by a maverick novelist it. Tropes in the novel bear a highest degree of art. Some tropes used are metaphors, similes, metonyms, synecdoche, oxymoron, zeugma, rhetorical question and many others forms. Some examples are: Picasso howls on a Cubist canvas. Beethoven melodies electric sandwiches. Beauty thy figure is a trope. The students filtered out of the classroom in hullaballoo. Marx’s religion is dead. The sea is tranquil and violent. Pearls twinkled in the sky. Both James and his religion died. The warlock’s earrings twinkled like a bell. Oh Democracy: what crimes are committed in thy name. Shame is fractured in a skin that’s repentant.

Again Philosophical Fiction distills ideas. Here I am starting from the Existential Philosophy of atheistic nihilism. For them life has no meaning and living is a chaotic absurdity. I am creating in my fiction a philosophy called as value ontology. I affirm that life has a meaning and purpose and we are living and leading our lives as purposists with a philosophy of Valeuablization. I shift my ontological perspectives to a constructivism. I adhere to the view of life being preciousness.

Again Philosophical encompasses character sketches. Character sketches are resonances of the soul. Yes, Characters indulge in the libidinal beauty of the soul. Characters leave ashes of existential fetishes. Characters are liberated narcissists. In Philosophical fiction character’s inner consciousness is given more importance and purpose. Characters dance in the eclecticism of the pen. Little value is given to physical looks.

Plot in fiction belongs to the old genre of fiction the who -done -it novels. There are only two plots in fiction, one a narrative plot and the other a symbolic plot. In a narrative plot the reader knows what is happening but the characters don’t. In a symbolic plot, the readers are kept in the dark and learn to identify the plot in the end

The narrative device which is popular in Philosophical Fiction is the streams of consciousness dialogue. Everyday incidents and trivialities are narrated with the style of epiphany. Here is an example: Oh Psyche—your wings are in celestial rhythm—how you dance, a soul come alive—you are a monument of beauty—you are a symphony come true—there now you perch on tree—what profound thoughts of beauty, you generate—you dance for the soul to delight—you offspring of poems—you music of prose—you are angel forming a pulchritude to the eyes—I am gazing at you— I am filled with joy and my passions running high.