We, the deciders and the decision
TIME IS NOT FOR THE CANDLE
IT IS FOR THE CANDLEMAKER
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I decided to not be a privileged middle class Black
intellectual male.
You see that? Read it
again.
It’s too much bullshit, right. Too much baggage. Too much
time spent jailing things into words and the(n) spending your life living it.
Or dying trying. Too much for me, I say.
I is. That is enough. Let’s try throwing in a few Human
Rights in the mix, Khaya Edit.
I is safe.
I is love.
I is loved
I is as others are.
Close the book, then.
If I had all the answer(s), this would be Hegel’s dream. The
End of History. Theistic ideas are completed. Conflict resolves. A new heaven
and a new earth.
But it’s not so rosy here, zingane zam’. Umalume akaqedile.
Phela at home you have electricity, predictable hot water.
More than four TV channels and a fridge full of things you won’t eat tonight.
Yet you, in front of TV, PC, zombie device of choice, are the one contemplating
suicide and violence. How about directing that energy to some healing?
I grew strong, finally. Cause being tired of being tired
done tirelessly is tiring. Iterate, repeat until irate.
So I decided/claimed
dominion over the sickness, dying and disease.
Chances are they might kill me for this. (Editor’s note: there’s a
silly and poignant reason for thinking this at time of writing)
Write on regardless.
This is living. The rest is labels.
This is…
Th is
(Editor’s note: There is a powerful, almost magickal quality about
“this” broken evenly into parts. I am still looking into it. The original note
on the 24th says “Interesting, must look further.”)
And it’s not right or wrong. Let us stop the Manichean game
of extremes and absolutes. Damnit!
Be.
Have.
Do.
Are all
states
of being. So be cool.
Let them love men. Let them eat pork.
Preserve thine self and preserve thy brother and neighbours,
Galactic thinking beings know that simians are our brethren.
Just as rocks of carbon are our distant uncles. Or a cluster of proteins is our
grandmother living in us.
We hunt gorillas, beautiful, wise, sagacious beasts with
more to teach us about living on this rock than Einstein or Marx. Why do we war
with them?
What is being hunted?
I believe it is the fear in us. The fear of thinking cosmically, both micro- and macro-. The written works on fear as a behavioural
catalyst are many, and I won’t expound much on fear here. I see a deeper root
though.
We are trapped in labels.
The war is on ideas. When the ideas are attached to objects.
When we make things out of
non-things, that is where we fail our selves and the things of this cosmos.
Have you noticed how, when there is a new, exclusionary/exclusive idea being
installed, we usually find a term for it different
from the things we’re trying to
separate it from?
WE are working too hard at separation and not enough on
unity. This will kill us, and has killed many. It was killing me. And if
somebody thinks I’m doing too much good, they might take it upon them selves to
kill me too. Why are there more dead messiahs and the despots live ‘til
grey? Since when is fear the locus of
our motivations? These questions are part of my continuous research. They take
me to places.
And the place that I reached, on the 23rd of
December, 2013 was that I decided to not be labels.
I decided to not be a privileged, middle class, Black
intellectual male. You see that? Read it again.
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“I note the obvious
differences
Between each sort and
type
But we are more alike,
my friends
Than we are unalike” - Maya
Angelou
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