Thursday, 20 March 2014

On the phenomenon of your becoming tired


If there is a seasonality within the awareness of things, then awarenesses are also subordinate to seasonality. A consciousness of change, with its internal rhythmic phases, is hard-programmed into all creaturely behaviours of the temperate and sub-polar regions. The thought of revolution is itself an unintended outcome of what Debord called ‘cyclical’ time by which a subjective constancy of economic circumstance is set against, and derives awareness from, its two moving backgrounds, the fluctuations of fortune and the grindstone of the seasons. The disparity between the rhythms of work and those of seasonality is the main determinate in the formation of consciousness.

Events, projects, things, relations, all slot into the movement of the spheres and derive their individual momentum, their character and their fate from the great turning. The conventional military strategy of ‘Spring Offensive’ illustrates the seasonality in struggles whereupon the manner by which conflicts appear at one level and develop at their own tempo, and according to their own logic, must then also fall back into an altogether indifferent and greater rhythm of physcial pressures. 

To that extent, projects of social transformation appear within the given form of seasonalised awareness. They are a festive ritual of the new cycle by which the memories of harsh historical reversals are ceremonially purged and an erotic of innocence is tuned back into the motor force of rebirth - in April, in Paris, anything can happen. But the cracking of ice, the release of meltwater in torrents, is accompanied by the acheful burdens that are also associated with reawakenings - there are some, like old, soul weary Tiresias, who would prefer eternal hibernation to yet another painful resurgence. The old ones perceive the energies of Spring as but an application of the goad to the treadmill; one more effort. Always, one more effort.

It is a tic of revolutionary awareness, an unexamined inheritance of earlier forms, to seek out new beginnings: to form new groups, to instigate new campaigns, to announce new publications. And yet, Debord excepted, it does not occur to revolutionaries that the seasonality of their impulses, and in particular their ‘Spring offensives’  must also fall back within the constraints of cosmic forces. 

The impulse towards what is unprecedented is a springtime phenomenon, but it is thereby also bound into the seasonal processes of maturation and senescence. Projects of transformation are themselves transformed. They are turned back at the border of the equinox and reintegrated, decomposing, buried beneath leaves, then snow. The decadence within projects, which cannot be overcome by weariful efforts in the sustaining them, is revealed by the recurrence of autumnal patterns of dilapidation - consciousness is instructed to cease and to rest. 

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