Sunday, March 30, 2014


Of what then, was the space i yearned for, constituted by? What prelapsarian wholeness did i feel separated from. Throughout adulthood i delved deep to locate the source of this primeval jouissance and each time it eluded me. When i had sex, when an orgasm was wrenched out of me , constellations of red, blue and black dots would explode in my consciousness, betokening a feeling i experienced yet didn't experience. Even now i am forced to deploy abstractions to describe what perhaps is incommunicable.

Mum fed me from the breast. At that time, which years of psychoanalysis have imbued with theoretical insights, it was my sole reality. I glutted and wailed when i felt the promptings of a momentary severing. Hunger was an inescapable accompaniment to the loneliness i felt.

It is interesting to observe that i use the term loneliness in hearkening back to those days because loneliness after all exists in relation to its antithesis i.e company, conviviality, communality. So perhaps i must qualify what i felt as an unassailable feeling of being unmoored, as though, having no control in the process of my existence i was left bereft, solitary. And what reconnected me to that wholeness, which interludes of separation intensified, was the breast. My toothless mouth gulped voraciously draining to the dregs a source of energy i wished to partake of, to suffuse myself with momentary repletion until the chasms opened again and the hunger reawakened.

Because i had no language to articulate my sensations i inhabited a void, a blankness. Beset by a longing for that i couldn't represent, seeking temporary alleviation through the breast i emerged in a state of deracination. Was this unbelonging an unavoidable human reality? What larger experience was being withheld from me? were questions hindsight induced with urgent necessity while my mouth closed around the nipple, in a way that seemed, ad infinitum ,to palliate what i couldn't know or feel. 

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