This idiom made a frame in my mind as I was reading the captivity of the Jews in Egypt. In the contemporary world the Jews became enslaved and made captive by the mad Hitler. The Jews are races who are travelers in the Wilderness. Traveler in the Wilderness as an Idiom means someone who is plagued by earthly troubles and sorrows. Oh God Jehovah Jesus make my victory while I am a traveler in the Wilderness.
When Moses and the Israelites were fleeing from the Pharaoh after the Pharaoh letting them go, the pharaoh became hardhearted and sent his army after them. Then people of Israel grumbled: it would have been better for us to be slaves in Egypt rather than Corpses in the Wilderness. Slaves in Egypt and Corpses in the Wilderness are an idiom meaning choosing an alternative that is difficult and tiresome but something which will read rich dividends in the end.
March 15, 2020
Yesterday night I had a strange dream of being attacked by an unknown person. I looked up at the dream dictionary and found out that being attacked means the fear and insecurities of the dreamer. Anyway the dream was not a pleasant one. I hope unlucky days will soon vanish and the grace of God Jehovah Jesus will pervade with me with LUCK.
I developed a new figure of speech called (thought (a) phor). For example: the word liberal has the antonyms strict and also conservative. Such a word which has two different antonyms is called a thoughtaphor.
I read into the Bible and I have coined two new idioms. Long after the death of the Pharaoh and after the reign of Joseph, the country was ruled by a Pharaoh who ill-treated the Jews. God started sending the 7 plagues in-order to let the Israelites go. But the Pharaoh remained adamant as ever. Then God asked the Semites to kill a goat or sheep and smear the blood on their doors and in the night the hand of God will visit the country and kill the entire first one born except the Jews. Smearing the door with blood means victory over one’s enemies. Yes, God will smear my door with blood. God also asked the captives in Egypt to have feast with unleavened bread known as the festival of the Passover. The Festival of the Passover means joy and wondrous rejoicing after a period of great trials and hardships in life.
Today is 13th Friday, a bad omen for those who fear the number 13 known as Triskaidekaphobia .13 is a complex number and can be related to Christ and therefore standing for resurrection and rejuvenation. I did some reading into the Bible and read the story of Moses who was chosen by God for the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. God told him to use a staff and do the miracles before the Pharaoh. The staff of Moses can be connoted into an idiom and it means prosperity and fortune. I wish the staff of Moses to enter my life.
Morning serenaded as a poem of a beloved. Listened attentively to the chirping and tweeting of birds. Since the exams were going on I did not have classes to take. The sky chirped in an aura of colors. God Jehovah Jesus is the creator of beauty and he is the master architect. I sincerely thank him for all the blessings given. It is said in the Bible: What is beautiful: think about these things.
Life lives in me a like a poetry of art. I am the potter’s clay and I am yielding on the porter to make me perfect. I thank the potter for making me sufficient and self reliant.
For some time now, I was caught up in a tug of war between Satan and Christ. When things don’t work right I lean towards Satanism. But now I am a reformed proselyte and I am returning o the father like a prodigal son. Yes, my heavenly father is taking two steps when I am taking one step to welcome me. Satan tempted me to slander and tamper the scripture and I did. But in repentance I have deleted all content and I have asked God Jehovah for forgiveness. Yes, he is a loving God wanting to accept and rejoice with the prodigal son who is returning.
Read through the story of creation. Read how Adam and Eve were created in the likeness of God and that’s the original sin. This sin has been redeemed with the sacrificial blood Christ spread on the cross. I am always asking God to make me stay away from sin. Yes, the wages of sin is death. I with all humility ask God to make me humble and thankful. I can’t count his blessings.
I walked with nature with a poetic heart. Nature’s colors were a musical joy to feast. The lullaby of the birds resounded with an aura of pleasantness. I feel so happy and contented with the world. The Word is the world given to me. Yes, salvation and eternal life in heaven mean much to me. Trucks from the quarry are carrying metal and roaring through the road. The aroma of an old flame became a visceral entity. The soul is the seat of all beauty and passion. It’s gift rendered by God. Oh God I seek your mercy and grace. Cover me with your precious feathers. Let me be grounded on your love. Remember not my iniquity. Help me live long to see my grandchildren frolicking.
Every day I am trying to devote myself to the garden of writing. I hope Oh God that in the garden of writing all flowers will be in full bloom. Music drips heavy on each word. The silence of nature is a deafness of beauty. The brook that’s murmuring is a hymn sung to heaven. Psalms are floating merrily through the sky. The waltz of nature is God’s beauty incarnated. Oh, dear and loving God….please look into my heart as I am gravitating towards you….Make me an art , celestial symphony. Oh Lord, I got to be at peace with myself. No matter what, I got to be serene in the heart. Lord I have only one life on earth and make this life, peaceful and blessed. ‘Give me the kindness that passeth all understanding.’ Nature is wearing her celestial robes. The clouds are canoe moving hazily across the sky. Lord, teach me the mysteries of nature. Help me understand the rhythms of nature. Let me hear the celestial poetry of the heavens. Let me immerse my soul in the beauty and harmony of your being. My being is God the maker. Life is short on earth and the eternal life with God in the Heavens is the joy and beauty of life ahead. Lord, rein a Manna of Blessing. Lord as your command says: it’s a joy to love thy neighbor as thy self. In you oh Lord, I have realized the meaning of life.
August 5th 2019
Today was a day of feeling of being doped and dragged down. I had to take the children to play badminton as the PE of our school was sick. It was an interschool contest. When we went register the students, lo to our surprise, we were asked to present their birth certificates. I had a tough time phoning the school and asking the principal there to email it to the host school. The PE of our school did not coach the children at all and to make matters worse the children were not aware of the rules. Though we lost, we lost by a narrow margin. It was a boring day for me. I could not smoke also I am became at ease after dropping the children at their homes.
There is a strange custom here in Kerala. Many Hindus hang idols of their Gods along that of Jesus and Mary and send decorative lights all over the idol. Is Jesus and Mary an idol? Isn’t the idolatry inherent in Catholicism a diabolic hocus-pocus? I would call this as an idiom meaning Confused. I am confused means accepting Hindu and Christian beliefs at the same time. The shop keeper is confused.
What to writer now? I have written all of a day’s happening. Writing is a fluidic meaning of recollecting and mentally positing experiences. It’s good to recall thoughts? Thoughts are symptoms of a pathological narcissism. The muse dies in painful agony with every word. The muse then resurrects with a new thoughts. Sad to say, that the muse is very sporadic. The desire to write is found deep within. It stems from a flow of eclectic thought. Words bounce like bouncer. It’s a wonder as to how words get recalled from stored memory. Writing is the knack for the uncanny. Writing is a staggering effort in streams of consciousness. There is no fixed time for writing. Writing is always in the process of renewal. Writing is like the four seasons: summer, spring, autumn and winter. Writing is an enigmatic artifact. A writer succumbs to the poetry of prose. Writing is a stoic ornament. Writing is battle for the writer and catharsis for the reader. I would love to adorn the gift of writing. Writing is a indwelling of catharsis and angst. Writing is the soul of nature. Writing is the poetry of hope. Writing nourished the soul to a new well of becoming. The reasons to write are many. Writing is a fugitive disguising words in veils of poetry. Writing anchors the body to an epiphany of ecstasy. Writing is tool of the optimist to forecast a bright future. Writing is an awakening of hope. Sometimes writing is a black rose of death. The fiery zeal of the writer is autonomous to celestial designs. Writing is the passion of poetry. Writing is the breath of living in literature. Writing catapults the soul to dizzy raptures with the divine chorus of heavenly rhythms.
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.