21st March 2019

It's a journal

I woke early at 5:30 AM. I saw a dream of joining for work in another school. The director of the school was a lady and she welcomed me. She was wearing a flimsy nighty which reached up to her calves. She had well rounded calves. Today I hope that Jehovah Jesus will part the Red Sea for me. I saw the moon in full bloom. It was shining in the clouds like a crystal ball. I watched its halo, a beautiful aura of light. I trembled like a metaphor of feeling. I felt like making love. Then I watched the sunrise, a mystic camouflage of light, slowly populating the sky, a dream so tranquil, an epiphany so poetic.

I read into the Gospel of Mathew and I felt awed by the literary device, parables used by Jesus. Let my put my humble thoughts and interpret them. Jesus explains in a parable: the kingdom of heaven is like a pine tree that the farmer plants. Its seeds are quite small but when it grows it becomes mammoth and eagles build their nests in it. Jesus is speaking the parable in metaphoric language. The tree is symbolic of a good Christian life. The Eagle building nests stands for rewards dished out from heaven. In another parable:  Jesus compares the Kingdom of heaven to yeast with which a woman makes bread. The loaves of bread made from the yeast refer to spiritual fruit. Again Jesus says that the kingdom of Heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. This treasure is found by a trespasser who on finding it sells everything to purchase it. God urges us to discover the value of Heaven and Eternity and to stay away from Sin and Hell. Again Jesus compares the kingdom of God to a fishing net. After the catch the immaculate ones are separated from the ones filled with grime. Christ exhorts us to live in moral purity and remember in your hearts that he is God who is the Way the Truth and the Life.

Today is a big bumper lottery draw. I pray to Christ to part the Red Sea for me, to do a wedding at Cana, to perform the miracle of feeding 5000 with 2 Loaves and 5 Pieces of fish. If this be God’s will then let it happen and I won’t bear any rancor against God if it doesn’t come my way.

I found the art of giving form to the novel and it was an act of serendipity. A novel can be written as a journal entry. Trivial incidents are birthed into epiphanies. There’s the tendency of the novelist to flirt with tropes. Character is transubstantiated with intrusions into personality and also by bringing out biographical nuances. The architecture of prose lies in ornamenting the language. Ego is an exaggerated hyperbole. Style emerges from the body of thoughts.

I give my oblation to God. Each day is a poem, a painting, a beautiful texture of prose and I am filled with thankfulness.