Thursday, August 22, 2024

My dinner with God

Yes, I talk to God. No, I don't mean in prayer (though, yes, in prayer, but also). I mean, I have a voice in my head and we chat and that voice represents the moral and good (call it the positive inclination) and that voice calls me out when I deserve it and explains things to me so I can understand why the world is what it is. I will recount the gist of my conversation from last evening and I apologize that the language descends into the archaic but at the time, it seemed like a fun exercise.

Biting yourself in the exact same spot (which had not quite healed from repeated earlier bites) on the inside of your lip not twice but three times during one meal is so excruciatingly painful that I finally and desperately turned to my Tormentor and asked "why": "Oh Why?" I asked, "Not why did I deserve this punishment, for I know those simple answers, but why of all the pains You could have chosen, did you select this particular, precise pan (and oh yea, persistently). Replied He, "What wouldst thou have fates select in its place? What torment could you equate with what I would lose in effect were I to abandon the hole in the lip? What would replace it so that I might leave our transaction, my message intact -- you improved by pain and I, content that I have taught the lesson in which we were engaged?"

So arrested I by this that there I sat and after time, I said, "Dunno man, like maybe a drunken broken left wrist?"

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