“Modernity has to be seen as the application of an elegant but deceiving method, the systematic subjugation of consciousness to a very precise form of sustained hallucination. Language itself has been coded, since time immemorial, not only to preserve the fiction of the mind, but also to reproduce and expand its breadth. Today we no longer have any premise that is beyond the reach of doubt, with every value, aspiration and purpose engulfed by the liquid frontiers of our delusions.”
I became aware of having three things simultaneously occupying my mind, as he finished saying that about our delusions. First, I was running out of beer, two, there was a punk, beautifully round shaved head and deep black eyeliner, standing not far at the other end of the bar, while three, I was in the presence of The One, à la matrix.
“Choice, decisions, freedom; these are myths that fuel our conditioning. The recognition that every event is predetermined is the only means to reach a slight degree of control; that alone can determine the outcome of your internal interpretation of the Event. The choice was made unconsciously, perhaps even reluctantly, but once made it has dyed your worldview with its essence and mood. So today at the edge of madness, we have one opportunity to reframe our predicament. Is it a nightmare? Or with luck, can we turn this miasma of sensation and confusion into nothing more than the soft flow of an innocuous dream?”
My beer finished, I signaled for another, the punk girl was getting closer and we maintained eye contact for several seconds; The One madly inspired, continued his speech:
“To reach the denouement of this factitious drama one must become as vulnerable as possible, to be naked, so to speak, in front of the violent fire of the Lie. Endure with courage the streams of pain that will flood the mind. You will soon realize there is nothing there that can burn and the fire eventually gives up its blaze in the vacuum that is our real self.”
Beer was flowing, the girl was just behind me, slowly rubbing her rump against mine, the eyes of The One wild with theory and poetry:
“The Answer will not produce a sensation, will not relieve the ache, it cannot quench the fiery nausea of our philosophies. If an Answer is at hand, it will only be recognized by its absence of substance, its intangible voice coated in what necessarily must be a protective layer of silence. How does one attain the Answer? One must choose not to know. You have to abandon the knowledge of the knower. The scope of the hallucination is inconceivably large, as immeasurable as it is stubborn. It is a sea of phantasmagoria the reaches below the horizon of perception to encompass the totality of our being. Do not try to find firm land, do not swim against the currents, do not resist its tugs and pulls; allow its revolting mirage to suffocate you… drink and drown in its thick illusion.”
Amen I said. I had drunk too many beers by then, I bid farewell to The One as I took the punk girl in my arms, sweat and euphoria shining on my face. Sometime around midnight I was to drown, like a good hedonist, in the thick shadows of her cave.
Pablo Saborío is Costa Rican born multidisciplinary artist living in Copenhagen, Denmark.