Sunday, January 25, 2015


Being of an exegetical disposition i plumbed myself. I knew that , given the bountiful nature of inner processes of consciousness, i was bound to discover something meaningful with full, rather fulsome knowledge and gratitude for the nebulous in life which
though of itself unknown and unknowable nevertheless sheds light on certain of its processes and mechanisms wherein a supercharged surcharged self consciousness that is also conscious of itself ruminates plaintively on how to process the viscosities and oleaginous coruscating whorls that memory dredges up and to communicate this flux, this flow and metamorphosis in the most seamless manner with the full cognizance of the fact that
'yes, i am working on that huge tome of philosophy'
'Do you think you can achieve your goal?'
'At least i hope to try'
Meanwhile external reality betokens. It is circumscribed and oppressive. It presents monochrome as nuance. It dresses up the unvaryingly boring as novel. It transforms complexity into simplicity. It seduces one into believing in its reductionism. It is external and therefore incomplete. It is unheeding of the inner life.
What is terrifying is the subsumption of the inner expediently to an exiguous outer.
Inner.outer. Man. Woman.Self. other. Consciousness. Awareness.
In their interstices and ambiguities lies a fluid kernel.
Arabesques that stud the mosaic and commingled pell mell with variegated wholeness metamorphosing the constituents into a kaleidoscope wherein divagations ratiocinations dreams mingling with effluviums excrescences and residual subterrene of the hinterland of experience amalgamated to temporality diffused by memory and subsequently reconstituted repose efflorescently penumbrally iridescently crepuscularly irrefragable depthlessness unfathomed yet stippled by luminescent mnemonics that irradiate.
In the fulcrum lies the kernel. In the kernel the essence. In the essence the inner. In the inner the truth. In the truth being. In being becoming. In being and becoming the heart of things. In the heart of things the soul of man/woman.

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