"He watereth the hills from His chambers: the earth is satisfied with the fruit of Thy works. He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man: that he may bring forth food out of the earth; And wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face to shine, and bread which strengtheneth man's heart. That Thou givest them they gather: Thou openest thine hand, they are filled with good." (Psalm 104:13-15, 28)
So I walk in the room and feel put upon. In the atmosphere I sense, I receive no foothold nor reminder of how I am, who I am. I don't know why this is and I don't know how I observe it from without. There seems to be a disconnect in me even in spite of knowing I'm "missing something". This is why I carry around the piece of paper I mentioned in part one. Because, I believe, the closer one endeavors to get to God the less would they be able to take from the rest of the people around in order to become something. In other words, if you glimpse God, you cannot then come back down and just build yourself up and refuse to continue to look to and at Him. And when I talk about becoming "something", I'm referring to more than that which your brain and body are hardwired to do beyond survival and procreation--i.e. attain a sense of individuality--and then maybe, just maybe, create something of our own. It's not enough to want stability--and therefore entropy. We need to be moving on.
"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." (1 Corinthians 13:11-12, emphasis mine)
Thank you for reading. I must say, the platform of letters, words, syntax and grammar (the odd sprinkling of punctuation here and there) has been of utmost importance in elucidating what my brain (and, therefore self--in this world) has become, lo these thirty years. This is called language. Amazing, huh? We have it, where'd it come from? This is why I love Linguistics. Because this is the thinking and talking about language. Indicating there's a level deeper that deals with the structure which we fill with said "letters, words, etc.". Ways of looking at the stuff without getting caught up with the mere meaning of the words. The recipe, though, for bringing out an inherent meaning to myself cannot be done by looking at the scaffolding of those, aforementioned as they were (people, strangers), the way Linguistics won't help you learn how to love someone in spite of knowing how to say "I love you". Does this make sense? In other words, I cannot look at words and language and then writing to bring me out of myself. It hasn't worked a hundred percent thus far and without God leading me along, this is as far as I'll ever get. You have language acquisition. You have a native tongue. You know the meaning of the words. You mix it all together (now I'm getting metaphorical) yet the recipe lacks flavor. Sometimes I think the "flavor" I don't sense is simply the vacancy in my introspection Paul points to in the above scripture from Corinthians. To where I won't fully get to see myself the way God does until I get to Heaven. But I think there's something else being worked out in me in the mean while.
"Who also hath made us able ministers of the new testament; not of the letter, but of the spirit: for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life." (2 Corinthians 3:6)
Word salad is where you string together words that have no connection to one another. The sentence is therefore meaningless and while each word has its definition, illegibility, and therefore confusion, ensues. Thing about "word salad" is that when it's spoken out, it sounds normal. Were it to be transcribed, the intonation of the speaker would be preserved with punctuation. The paragraphs would build and there'd be an end and a beginning. And you'd read through it and nothing would come of what you wrote. I must say, this is how I feel a lot of the time. I don't see connection with people, except in the negative. Saying that the "human race" is a mix of disparate types and therefore bereft of an overarching meaning and narrative is common sense. But if you throw Christ in this mix, the recipe gains a flavor and body and substance. It becomes something nourishing. Because without the glue of God's presence between the particles--life would indeed fall apart. Like a loaf of bread without enough kneading prior to being baked. Real quick, the word brioche (a type of bun) derives its meaning and origin from the French word broyer which means to "knead" or "crush". Another connotation of the word is "break". If it weren't for an understanding that Christ was "broken" for us, agonizing through the process of being nailed to the cross and suffering a humiliating death, it'd make my own life a thing of transitory naught. I'd be left to myself and therefrom would have to muster all the ingredients of my own in order to make something for dinner.
"Another parable spake He unto them, The kingdom of Heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took took, and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened." (Luke 13:21)
The Lord's Supper
"And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. And He took the cup and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it; For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins." (Matthew 26:26-28)
The Lord's Supper is amazing. When you see the bread and the wine as the symbol of His life for us and ingest accordingly, something happens to you. Assuming one's heart is right with the Lord, a reset of sorts is performed. You take in Christ through a culinary act and His life diffuses and mingles the physical and spiritual.
It's like this with the Word of God. The only structure I have to offer is that I find in the Bible. While they may be words (the font doesn't matter, neither does the translation, really) and they may be served up to me in my native tongue they remain just that until you meet the author. All the sounds and letters and words. The punctuation ("jots" and "tittles") become something altogether greater than the sum of their parts. You become you as God fills you up. Color becomes sound and sound becomes thought. And it's those thoughts from which we build ourselves up as God planned. Because He loves you.