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.

Recent Works

Essays, Articles, Speeches and Adventures

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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

Vunja!

t’s time to turn squarely to time itself; it’s time to take time: for so long, most of the colonized world – including Africa – has been educated into the idea that there is only one time, and that this time stretches from an unsophisticated past to the glittering future, one which only the raptured …Continue Reading >>>

Applause

Applause – however raucous – is to the real magician a signal of failure, an indication that she has merely entertained the senses of her audience…when what she really wants to do is to shock them into whimpering silence, and break them out of their convention of presuming that what they see before them has …Continue Reading >>>

Grief and gratitude

Grief, the desire of bodies for what is lost, needs gratitude to be fully itself. And gratitude only knows itself through a sense of what it might lose. Together they are the rhythm of things, the silence and the drumbeat that give birth to everything…written into the fabric of possibility. Bayo Akomolafe

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