Wednesday, September 10, 2014


I remember watching the news and feeling deeply dismayed by what was happening. I hadn't as yet taken sides or adopted positions. I was more or less suspending partisanship and ruminating on the human predicament palliated the ineluctability of thinking through things and arriving at a position that was well informed, measured and equitable.
It i often when choices are inevitable that i freeze into stasis. I preempt the fact of choosing but an all encompassing numbness. Sheltering under this canopy of not having to decide i equivocate, oscillating between dismay at my inertia and terrified of the unavoidability of having to choose . Interstitial states are hinterland states and the excoriation i visit upon myself indicates the gravity and enormity of my conundrum.
Of course the crises i allude to, which i present as immeasurably important,is my own neurotic indecisiveness. Self indulgent is the will that strives for self assurance amid self doubt. And indeed my indubitably unfruitful peregrinations around the circumference of my neuroses underscore my ineffectuality and cowardice. These self revilings,instead of precipitating decision making augment my prevarication.
What, i often ruminate, induces in me such a necessity of choice making. Is not horror at human destruction a sufficiently pacifist response. But much of human action is predicated on a certain right and wrong. Right and wrong being ambiguous but i do sense, despite everything, an overriding sense of a larger good, a larger right. Sometimes unequivocal clarity appeases a disordered mind or else an ambivalent space crystallizes misgiving.
Eventually though closely allied to this dithering is my own sense of being in this world. It strikes me that having opinions roots me firmly where my habitual formlessness would dissolve all certitude. World events anchor me where my own deracination would displace me. Though my refuge from choosing redoubles my dispossession it is perhaps all that i have. So deferred choosing enables inhabiting a blank slate from whereon i etch my hieroglyphs of sanity and collective conscience.

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