El mundo

From a recent, yet not so recent reading of the novel El mundo by Juan José Millas:
An autobiography by the adult author through the perspective of his childhood. He is an inventor of sentences, characters, and stories, his father an inventor of instruments-in particular an electric scalpel capable of creating a wound and healing it at the same time as the blood vessels cauterize. While his father’s instrument was a medical scalpel, Juan Jose’s was the pen.

The blade of the pen, comfortable in the writer’s hand, carefully separates the woven strands of plant fiber with each stroke, each letter, each sentence, opening a small wound in the paper’s flesh, while simultaneously healing, healing the mind’s frustrations, healing the soul’s longings, healing the aches of the heart. Some are still fresh as my ink bleeds from the paper. I am writing my own autobiography.

(Many of these are older entries recently posted. Soon what I wrote will catch up to life, and life will catch up to what I write)

The rains came down and the floods went up...

...but the house on the rock stood still.

03/30/08
A thought I had today:
These last couple of days have been cold and stormy, with unsuspected snow. But the snow will melt. The storm, though bitterly cold, will pass and the water gathering will bring and nourish new life.

Last week (09/30/09), the unexpected storms returned.
The sky’s rainy eyes wept as the thunder-shook emotions followed the lightning’s chaotic path.
Probably a testament to the fact that God hears me--I said bring on the rain and...it came. The pounding rain has tried to break me, drown me, but instead it will fill my vessel and deepen my soul. Though storms will crumple the ocean’s surface, the Father of my earth and soul resounds: “Be still, and know that I am God.”