Tuesday, January 13, 2015

THE POSTS ON MY WALL

I log in. I have to ease my way through a cavalcade of multiple presences. I choose my modes of intercession, my points of intersection. Or they choose me. Either i am fascinated by some speck of information that catches my eye or mnemonics lie in repose with their intimations of suggestiveness. Once i latch on to them i am fastened and held transfixed.
Charlie hebdo . Freedom of expression. Limits to freedom of expression. Racism. Islamophobia. Extremism. Nigeria. Killings. Liberal left. Right wing intolerance. Protest march. Selective empathy. Nuanced debate.
The threads unravel with their specific points of view wherein it becomes difficult to sift through the competing narratives knowing that there is no single reality and that things are multi layered and complex but yet certain principles and fundamentals have been contravened though they comes with their attendant complex contexts that deepen and render uncertain any singular understanding of what is happening as human depths which are plumbed with an unconscious by some betoken to hinterlands we are all familiar with in a subterranean way though our beliefs and sublimations hold us aloft and confer a certain relational intermingling which some abrogate unconscionably.
Meanwhile my sense of reality which, in its profundity ,partakes of yours makes me, despite my impulse to utter truths as i see them, rather circumspect given that, you have a point of view which, having arrived at with your own complex ratiocination necessitates, ineluctably, a process of introspection within me, within , because my narrative is not central as even yours, despite its complexity, isn't but we believe, despite our points of divergence, in certain things , certain humane fundamentals thereby rendering unavoidable, given the commonalities underpinning our putative disagreement, a certain interrelatedness that sustains, buttresses, buoys, indeed transcends the coordinates of our ostensible difference so why not focus, as is expedient and pertinent, on that which binds us than that which separates us.
The floor below which my glance strays towards is a chequered mosaic. My mouth is bitter with the pills i have consumed. An occasional passing vehicle punctuates a cold winter night. The luminous moon lends forth a white halo around itself while the penumbra, ominously tenebrous yet strangely peaceful is mediated by neon and florescent lightings of shop fronts.
A whole spectrum of human variegation has been traversed. There have been passionate avowals and disavowals. I am, in this darkness, both fulcrum and periphery. I am both volitional and volitionles. The stars twinkle gently. The unceasing commerce of life, despite shocking and deeply distressing upheavals, proceeds desultorily on.
I log off.