Thursday, August 15, 2013


She moistened her lips, peeking into the mirror's pellucid depths to discern a glimpse into her being. Yet the mirror evaded her scrupulous scrutiny. She parted the ensorcelled obfuscations of her psyche, hoping that such intent resolve would obviate the intractability of the mirror's unyielding unresponsiveness and make her see what she so assiduously sought. Yet seeing, at best, is a metaphysical abstraction and its powers of perception recondite. So she pined before this interstice of seeing and believing, yearning and its absence. 

Her lot was full of depredations. She lived in a state of perpetual deferral. She was always approximate , on the brink of achieving a state near yet unreached. Her subjectivity was wreathed in misty wisps, floating around gossamer like, at times crystallizing, at others dissevering. Only she stood, inviolable, indivisible around whom the mist gathered together, concentrated and then attenuated. In all this movement of consciousness a fulcrum of self realization was never arrived at. Clogged consciousness negated such a possibility.

In all this the pertinacious query arose as to why her sincerity was thus unrewarded. Why, despite her probity, the intransigent mirror was unforthcoming. Perhaps the answer lies in the dialectics of negation. Seeing and perceiving and believing are quite different. The problem, for her, was compounded when what she saw i.e what she wanted to see clashed with what she did she i.e that which she was not. She saw yet didn't see. She saw only the shadows and not the what which cast them. She is a waking sleeping beauty in that her undiscerned being is recumbent while her apparition of herself traverses the world. Her misrecognition lies in her inability to discern that the apparition she mistakes as real is just that, a phantom.

Beneath this phantom lies what reality? What unfathomed truth underlies the surfaces of things. And that is where the anomaly of perception flummoxed her. She was trying to plumb a depth that could not be penetrated. Beyond the phanasmal facsimile she saw lay a tangled wilderness of vast ephemera, unknown phenomena and untapped potentiality. She saw as befitting the reality that the reality she sought was both evanescent and uncapturable. All she had at her disposal were the numerous configurations she wound around herself, the numerous beings she could be. In the absence of being she became. In the absence of a ontological script she performed.

She looks in the mirror when the opalescent sun portends a penumbral gloaming and loses herself, enraptured, at what she sees.