A Welcome Message

from Bayo

Once, we supposed that by burrowing into the world, and taking things apart, we would eventually arrive at pure essences, at unbequeathed virgins hidden behind thick layered harems of dust, grime and exactitude. At the heart of the matter. When we ‘arrived’ there, it wasn’t a holy calmness we found: in the material world, the electron touched herself in perverse sensuality – neither here nor there, frolicking with virtualities, teasing the impossible, mocking our gaze; in the intellectual world, we surveyed the ancient ruins of Reason, overrun by visiting hordes from less austere realms; in the moral world, where we supposed ‘love’ to be the resolute bedrock for all things, we noticed a queer undergrowth, a flourishing carnality of considerations. Mere chaos.

In other words, we are finding that the heart of the matter is not a simple creed, stable ground, conquering Truth, or an exalted state. And that there is nothing ‘pure’ or finished about the world. The heart knows something we don’t – and this is that one and one often equals less; that life cannot be computed in terms of ends and purposes; that the idea that our lives are a lone feverish hunt for happiness is a conspiratorial compromise and, as such, what we all want and long for is not given or uncontested; and that behind the curtains, when the neon lights flicker out and our masks come off, when the candle-stained scripts rest exhausted from all the handling, our most astonishing fear is ourselves – strange, perverse, wild, indeterminate, and powerful. If we touched the heart of the matter, it wouldn’t be satisfaction we will feel. When the saints go marching in, it isn’t eternal rest they will find. Nothing is still or settled. The heart of the matter is a gasp, a bleeding cut, a haptic involution, a self-touching encounter, an event horizon that takes us in and belches us out in stranger versions of where we first began.tranquility

In a world where intentionality, agency, causality, learning and memory can no longer be safely ensconced away in the fleshy caverns of human be-ing – and at a time when modern civilization, our cherished binaries, our institutions, and our cultural lexicons are unfurling at their seams, grappling with resolute impasses and spinning black holes – I offer these dances with the preposterous. This website. This very material yearning for a world more at peace than the stories of infinite growth allow; a world more alive than can be accommodated in the anorexic confines of Newtonian imagination; a world more just than the exhausted binaries and tired clashes between ‘good’ and ‘evil’; a world where ‘I’ am home with Lali. With our daughter, Alethea. With the preposterous.

Welcome.

Adebayo Akomolafe

Poet. Philosopher. Psychologist. Professor. Passionate about the Preposterous.

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‘We’ are not leaping from ‘here’ to ‘there’, we are making ‘here’ and ‘there’ by leaping.
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Worshipping Lali

Co-personology

Your life is not the breathing space squeezed between your birth and your demise. In fact it is not “your life” as such. You own none of it: your failures, your disappointments, your accidents, your successes, your failed attempts at mastery and your many inabilities. Even “your” thoughts are not the things in your head …Continue Reading >>>

Free will versus determinism

As a young clinical psychologist in training, I was often preoccupied with the ‘deeper’ philosophical questions about human behaviour – the ones we in the profession hardly ever examined in public when we were taught to produce a CBT chart for clients, prepare a patient for electroconvulsive therapy, or administer some antipsychotic medication. For me, …Continue Reading >>>

Let it rip!

I’m teaching Alethea the ethics of farting: “Better out than in! Let it out. Don’t hold it back because people expect you to be ‘lady-like’. Share your power with the world.” In the past three days, she’s been unleashing seismic shifts from her three-year old body – followed by an ecstatic high-five between us, just …Continue Reading >>>

Look around you…

Everything begins in the middle. There are no beginnings that appear unperturbed, pristine and without hauntings. And there are no endings that are devoid of traces of the new, spontaneous departures from disclosure, and simmering events that are yet to happen. The middle isn’t the space between things, it is the world in its ongoing …Continue Reading >>>

Falling might very well be flying – without the tyranny of coordinates.

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What is important is shifting, and what is shifting is important.
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