MUTSA

“Open books gather the most dust” – Sanngetall, the Alchemist

Like most African children, I grew up under the impression that education is the single most important thing in life after our Lord and saviour Joshua ben Joseph (the first JoJo.) However, unlike most, I excelled amongst a peer group on average 2-3 years older than me, at one of the top ranked schools in the country, to the point where I got into A-levels on scholarship. However, these shiny fragments of my story are not the privilege I wish to discuss, they are far too untainted to tell a tale; they are yet to gather adequate dust.

Things have been hard lately; everywhere I look everything feels so heavy. They should put trigger warnings on this life before you incarnate into corporeal form. In this moment, anyone, no matter who you ask (if they answer honestly) is falling apart. I for one have come unravelled, undone at the seam and left exposed to the elements; I have become dust. All things are stardust that has forgotten how to shine. So, our souls integrate the energies we are exposed to in order to relearn their inherent luminance.

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life” – Pablo Picasso

Whether consciously or subconsciously fragments of common universal existence latch onto our soul and we curate our biases towards that dust. For example: What does one learn from their first heartbreak and how does this lesson affect their second love? In the grand dust storm, we are the art Picasso speaks of. Dust particles like love may seem like common experiences when in fact, they vary like snowflakes in expression and engagement from person-to-person, moment-to-moment and circumstantially. On the other hand, dust can seem golden; on the personal scale holding unfathomable intricacy while in fact being of the same mechanism as all other particles at play in the collective unconscious. So, what does this dissonance entail?

Honestly, this metaphor was constructed to be fluid and have no objective meaning. Life is to be lived by the individual fully immersed in the never-ending moment that is now; that is the art of living, chaotically sandwiched between an unchangeable past and unattainable future. Simply being more mindful (such as through the routine meditations like: What am I feeling, Why do I feel it, Where am I now, what is here with me, etc) of how we live allows us to regain a glimmer of our inherent cosmic knowledge; we gather dust to curate our souls.

“One must find out for oneself, and make sure beyond doubt, who one is, what one is, why one is …” – Aleister Crowley, Magick, Book 4

We all have the same infinite potential cosmically speaking. Thus, the plight of a Black Boy is that he sees that potential and knows he must expect nothing. In Physics a black body is defined as ‘a hypothetical perfect absorber and radiator of energy, with no reflecting power’ and that is how I feel. Cursed (as you should be too) with the knowledge that there are no “low vibrational emotions” in the spectrum of being; all can attain Christ consciousness, find Satori, become Nietzsche’s Übermensch, whatever you wish to call your complete and continued humanness – if willing to gather adequate dust.

Having yet again glimpsed into the inner workings of my mind (see ‘The Great Romance’ and all of Stall_13’s amazing content) and as someone who’s struggled with depression and anxiety, I say go forth and gather dust you wonderful creature. Check in on your “strong” friends, sign some petitions, drink water, unplug if need be; may all things you do serve your highest, lowest and truest self, Godspeed.