A Sneeze

"It might be an interesting literary exercise to try to describe a sneeze. And all the feelings that precede it." - Oliver Sacks.

Challenge accepted. 

With a latent and barely perceptible tickle of the sinus, comes the announcement of this explosive fanfare of the face. As this initially innocent phantom tingling spreads and overwhelms us with its intensity, pushing tears aside in its tyrannical claim to our nasal cavity, an inner revolt brews.  This somatic protest elevates rapidly, as we tense up and inhale spasmodically liters of air, only to expel them all again, extraditing the unbearable intruder in a convulsive wave of euphoria.

What is your calling?

We make shit up. That's all we ever do, at best. At worst we just repeat the shit made up by others. We need the shit others made up, mind you, in order to make up our own. This is not to be confused with stirring shit up - that's an altogether distinct, and somewhat conditional activity - for in order to do any shit stirring, there already needs to be some shit around - shit that has already been made up, naturally. There are ways out of ever having to do anything with making shit up, or shit stirring. Those who have adopted the two most common evasive strategies, either don't do shit, or don't give a shit.

Breeding Unicorns

It is illegal to breed unicorns - illogical even, or ill founded according to some. It's safe to conclude that breeding unicorns is an ill activity.

Epidiosyncragyrology

Epidiosyncragyrology - the science dealing with stirring patterns resulting from human activity intended to dissolve sugar in tea or coffee, by stirring with a teaspoon. Most epidiosyncragyrologists consider the recent emergence of this interdisciplinary field as nothing short of a revolution in the study of the human mind.

Gecko commotion!

Two gecko's are either fighting, playing or mating outside my window - hmm, can't tell. There's plenty of commotion and a cacophony of gecko-squeaks. Oh wait! - I can see one has got hold of the other's tail with it's jaws. Whoa! - the gecko binary system has just swung haphazardly, pivoted on the hind legs of the biter, coming close to dropping off the window altogether. Nope - I still don't know what to make of it.

Friends

My flatmate's dog Russell, came to greet me last night when I got back from a tutorial. After trotting giddily downstairs he paused politely at the threshold, looking up at me, until I said - hello there, come in! After I turned the TV on and sat down, he sat next to me. A minute or two later, while we were sitting there, watching the tube, he glanced over, and looked into my eyes - it was then, that I had a thought which put that moment in perspective - "so, my friend - here we are, two living beings sharing a moment in eternity."

A fragment of an essay on wonder.

With our fangs of taxonomy muzzled with wonder, as the alluring fragrance of mystery provides no substance for their bite to seize, we are drawn toward its promising source. During that earliest stage of our encounter, we dare to look closer, and quietly step forward, slowly becoming aware of a latent form emerging out of the formless, secret garden, as a cloud would gather out of a homogeneous haze, slowly transforming into a barely perceptible,  faintly budding, chimerical sprout – as we step closer, the quivering penumbra of this autogenetic presence remains unstartled, as the zephyr of wonder conceals our scent. Every such step is what we call metaphysics.

Captivated by this animated apparition, as it blossoms into a seductively incandescent form, we pause mid stride, reach out, and grasp it. As the phantasmagorical fog of indeterminacy recedes, we remain transfixed by the now tangible, floral epiphenomenon, quivering weakly on our palm, its vivid fragrance stirring a familiar, sweet melody – of the lullaby we loved so much as children. As the abandoned blossom quietly withers before our eyes, its poignant odor reverberates into the somber motif of a Requiem for metaphysics.

We’ve clumsily drawn on the eternal sands of mystery’s boundless shore the laughable content, and modus operandi of our mind – the sad part lies in the inevitability of that outcome – we carry the stigma of our finitude with us all the time, and before long, its viral character infects any realm of being, totally.