The luminous island of the self trembles and waits
Lawrence Durrell
Look, it's all very well to talk about
narcissism and solipsism and the various
other isms, but we're supposed to stick
to what we know. Right? And, besides,
what about Plato and the whole
unexamined life thing?
Not that the recommended subject matter
is any easier to penetrate, in practice,
than quantum mechanics or linguistic
determinism or what women really want.
"Know thyself," advises the Delphic Oracle.
Easy for her to say.
I mean, is it really possible to make sense
of the morass of images, the extraneous
noise and wobbly camera angles associated
with the low-budget cinéma vérité project
that goes on in one's head? And feelings?
Forget about it.
Still, the luminous island beckons, the focus
of the universe, its sole reason for being,
while all those conjectural others flicker
feebly in the background, fulfilling
their only plausible purpose, that of
providing a context.
And the oracle smiles patiently, saying
"Yes, of course it's all about you. But
what I really meant was that I was bored
to tears with all the earnest pilgrims.
The term 'know' was meant to taken
in the biblical sense."
