Insurrection

InsurrectionCP

#dialogue, #fiction, #narrative, #revolt, #benignity, #constrainment

On an early morning the word insurrection came to Télos’ mind. She stood up and searched for its definition, to clear up any doubts regarding its implications to the current affairs she was in.

‘A violent uprising against an authority or government’, Télos read out loud.

Yes, the word’s definition reassured her. It was fully related to what was happening or needed to happen.

To further enhance clarity, she started to circle around the room, placing charcoal pieces in each corner, whilst trying to understand the degree of violence an act of insurrection would need to contain to deserve its name. The synonyms that appeared in the Thesaurus provided her with a more accurate image: ‘coup, insurgency, revolt, revolution, riot, sedition, uprising…

Amidst her inner ramblings, the apparition of Genesis brought her train of thoughts back to the dimension of dialogue. Genesis laid her hand on her shoulder, and said calmly, ‘It seems you always invoke me at the verge of your rational climax, should my company disgrace the efforts of self-reflection? How have you been my old friend?’

With a sense of relief, Télos sat on the chair that was closest to her. ‘Oh Dear Genesis, how nice it is to see you again… What’s really at stake is never fully revealed to us, is it? What’s powerful seems so often to be obscure, diminishing our own capacity to provide… to oneself, the near ones, loved ones, to those in need… It feels disturbing to be reminded that ethics and morals can serve purposes that are blind to us, and aren’t necessarily benign in nature.’

While speaking, Télos moved her hand in the air. She sought for that fragrance emanating from Genesis that was so soothing, and continued. ‘If only power could be left to interact with those who either enjoy competing for it or succumb to it… Is it plurality that power fears so much? I suppose so, because if plurality propagates in unpredictable ways, then “the one power” form can never be applicable to such diverse shapes of existence… How much I wish that forms of social poesis, like Epicurus’ “Garden”, could be left alone, to propagate… But fear seems to be such a key factor in our behaviour, “my fear”, “your fear’’, “our fear”, “power’s fear”…’

Télos stood up a bit abruptly, and continued placing charcoal pieces around the room again. The piles of charcoal had grown quite big by now. ‘But what is it that you are craving for?’ asked Genesis. ‘Obviously to live fully, but so that others can’ exclaimed Télos.

Genesis started to go through the books laying on Télos’ desk, to find out what had instigated such a revolt of thoughts in her mind. She found two suspicious books, The Poethical Wager by Joan Retallack, where ‘The Garden’, as a social experiment, was mentioned, and Wayward lives, beautiful experiments. Intimate histories of social upheaval by Saidiya Hartman.

Starting to move very slowly in circles, to activate energy and bring Télos to some kind of conclusion, Genesis asked, ‘But would you agree with Hartman, that Esther Brown’s power to disrupt the “habitus”, understood as the embodiment of history in the amount of possibilities she could live, as Retallack would put it, was to her a way of living life to the fullest?’

Télos left the last piece of charcoal on the floor and stopped. She then looked around and noticed Genesis circular movement all around her body. She closed her eyes and let all that vibrant energy sink into her soft words. ‘I suppose I would agree with Hartman’s reflections, that Brown’s quest for pleasure and enjoyment was a way to claim her autonomy, to finally do as she wished. But the amount of possibilities through which that sense of enjoyment and passion could be explored was so constricted by that same power she wanted to destroy…. And when thinking of “destruction”, I would hope for a revolution, an act of insurrection that would manage to bring many things to a new alignment that feels caring and fair to everyone. But then such feeling pauses for a second, and leaves space for a humble interrogation…’ She took a deep breath. ‘How far would I go? What’s the limit of my courage? ‘Cause I would surely hope for a definition of insurrection in which the quality of “violent” would be taken out of it.’

With her eyes still closed Télos continued to whisper, ‘‘Cause the power Power can exert is at times terrifying. Silenced voices, kidnapped politicians, arrested protesters, reformation camps, to just name a few, remind us to what extent Power will go to preserve itself…’

Genesis stopped in front of Télos. With her two hands she moved her gently into a sitting position, and patiently replied: ‘But it is exactly amidst such paralysing contexts that both Retallack and Hartman advocate for small acts of waywardness, and the insurrection of the everyday. Gestures, such as experimental thought, small deviances in behaviour, the shaping of our own lives, the celebration of complexity, … all acts of ‘new-composing’. All gestures that find a sense of pleasure in ‘the new’. ‘Cause fear is a very powerful emotion, but so is pleasure. It is through pleasure that one can celebrate, congregate, commune, and in turn inspire and propagate.’

Just after Genesis had added her final contribution to the intellectual debouch, four distinct showers of colour appeared inside the room. They materialised the four scents of her divination: cinnamon, rosemary, thyme, and honey. Genesis knew how to play all her tricks so that one could only await her next apparition.