Thursday, October 10, 2013


This is a story that begins with a mirror.

This is a story which reflects itself back to itself.

This is a story which reflects its reflection by reflecting on its reflection.

A reciprocal narrative is reflected back to it.

Or what is reflected back is the reflection of a reflection.

Reflections are necessarily illusory

Reflection reflecting reflection is illusion redoubled.

Reflections refract streaks of knowledge. Knowledge reflects itself to reflection by reflecting itself.

The search for truth propels the mirror to reflect its reflection. However due to reflection seeking itself through reflection truth is momentarily bypassed because once reflected it becomes a reflection of itself and is rendered apocryphal.

Reflections both reflect and (re) flect. Hence there is both representation and (re) presentation.

The ellipticals of reflection reaffirm the reflexiveness of reflection. And since reflexiveness is, of necessity, a (re)flection of a reflection we come back to where we started.

This is a story that begins with a mirror.


Reason buttresses incontrovertibly. It congeals eldritch dimensions of nebulosity and transfigures them. The faculty of reason is contingent on the act of will. Without conscious embalming gossamer hieroglyphs float indeterminately, jostling, ricocheting, severing and conjoining. Reason reconstitutes randomness. Reason renders luminous the gloaming of unreason. Reason creates, from the emptiness of non being, a becoming.

Reason rationalizes, specking with logic, studding with ratiocination, stippling with coherence. Reason negates polymorphousness because in the multitudinous coexistence of unconscious constituents it founders. Reason is at once, immutable and evanescent, capable of crystallizing tenuousness and configuring the inchoate. The crenellations of reason transmogrify amorphous wisps of unknowingness into structures of cognition. Reason rends chaos, clefts the irrational, sheds the superfluous and reinscribes, with its inveterate sanctification, the stamp of unequivocal truthfulness.

Yet reason, despite its intractability is infinitely protean because its entrenchments depend upon the aegis of subjectivity. Reason, in its singular manifestations frays the edges of its own intransigence. Yet the coordinates, through collective complicity, retain their obduracy.

Reason comes to be through non being. Reason creates non being to be. By siphoning of the extraneous, by divesting the appendages of that which is unimportant, or important enough to be eschewed. Reason is negation. Reason is a superimposition of its own telos upon unknowable ontology. The faculty of reason is simultaneously circumscriptional and transcendent. In its interstices, with their imperceptible obtrusions lies the irrational. Reason holds its breath and compresses unreason in its diaphanous folds. But such pressure, withheld, billows out into arabesques of irreality.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013


Invulnerability is my ontology. I come into being out of fearlessness. It is because i don't fear, that i am. Coruscating specks of causalities float past me, with their irrevocable intimations yet i am, singularly unafraid. Many tell me that my negation stems from inexperience, from a nascent state of unapprehended reality. What is that reality, which these assiduous promulgators indefatigably asseverate, is highly amorphous.

To disentangle fear from experience is no small feat. The experience and the attendant emotional reality it entombes are indistinguishable yet impalpable. Fear, i discern emerges from uncertainty, unanticipated fatalism and dread. The emotion is a retroactive predetermination. It is both prelude and consequence. It brings the experiential impetus behind indeterminate experience into being and subsequently dapples it with its inexorability.

It also occurs to me that fear is the corporeal equivalent of metaphysical incertitude. Fear is the apotheosis of tenuous intimations, latent, immanent which roil within, twisting and turning, churning ,only to be regurgitated when consciousness, unable to keep in stasis the ebbs and flows of precariousness , throws up the constituents. The detritus becomes fear.

Yet, a wake of apprehension suffuses me even as i proclaim my inveterate proclivity of fearlessness. It is apparent that certain phosphorescent propensities, subsumed in the gloaming of subconsciousness proffer streaks of disquiet . There is something, something nebulous which is preoccupying me and congealing intransigently as a subterranean , unguessed, ungrasped and indiscernible stipple. I am possessed of the ability of self excoriation and until i unravel the penumbral recesses of this frustrating interstice between knowing and unknowing i will remain discontented.

A sense of finality is discomfiting me. Recollections of heroic feats of unafraidness are not heralding self congratulatory complacence or self sufficient quietude. On the contrary an indwelling uncertainty subsumes me with anxiety. It is not that i will suddenly start fearing because my lexicon disallows the possibility of its realization. What is cognitively unknown and repudiated does not, like the unconscious confer streaks of unknowability. Conscious crystallization of being confers an imprimatur of anthropomorphism. Yet there are chinks in the armor, blurrings and blottings underneath the palimpsest of my fulcrum. Random hieroglyphs circumambulate.

And after incessant ruminations i have come to the conclusion that though i don't fear i fear fear itself. So determined is my effort to transcend collective fear that i witness, with unutterable anxiety, the prospect of my submergence into the undifferentiated wholeness of the phenomenon of fear itself. Hence i must circumvent, thus must i bypass, forthwith must i repudiate what i may become which will, ironically , be a reversion to what i was.