I often find myself troubled by the mundane-ness of being. I confess - unwillingly so - that I am a novelty seeker.
Living sounds as though it should be an esoteric experience. Like the many modulations in a Ta' Fela Kuti & Egypt 80 song. Or the vigor of a melody laid down by uMa' Busi Mhlongo. I imagine life to be a pattern of passionate inhales and reflective exhales. A sacred applause confirming the adventure of our being. Sometimes that adventure looks like embarking on spontaneous trip to the nearest park. Other times it's finding myself deeply infatuated by someone new.
The concern here is not in the constant chase of newness. It is in realising that the newness will always find a way to interact with the old and undesirable. That the old and undesirable parts of ourselves cannot be left at home while we ride the path laid out by adventure’s seduction. They’re in the car. Not wearing seatbelts. Idly waiting for the slightest collision - to implode.
I read somewhere that to live is to hold joy and pain in the same palm. In the mundane, both lie, but neither perform for the other’s approval. Hours punctuated solely by sips of water and trips to the bathroom. Unbearable, because in the mundane lives the awareness that space matters and time disappears.
There is a moment however, in-between thoughts - when the mundane is void of space and time. A split second of ease. In-between silences. When the relief of simplicity affirms the alchemy of breathing.
Intaba zoKhahlamba, South Africa. 2023