Labyrinths: Madness with methods
In dedicating Degeneration to Caesar Lombroso, Max Nordau specifically warned on the limitations of literary and aesthetic critic. His concern was ‘…the subjective impressions received from the works he criticizes,’ and additionally, that the critic was incapable of judging as to whether the literary works are the product ‘…of a shattered brain and also the nature of the mental disturbance expressing itself by them’ (1895, viii). Nordau’s apostasy against imagination did not foresee the birth of interdisciplinary studies in the midst 1920s, let alone that a researcher in mind, person, and poetry would stand, mentally ready, with the surgical blade in one hand and the imaginative knife in the other, to dissect the mind of even a degenerate persona and flaunts a new direction publicly. Whatever renders the mind of a persona split does not only come from within, it enters from without, using several methods.
The methods begin from the vantage of Labyrinths as a text, and the loss of identity of the author: ‘We shall never know, for the good reason that writing is the destruction of every voice, of every point of origin. Writing is that neutral, composite, oblique space where our subject slips away, the negative where all identity is lost, starting with the very identity of the body writing’ (Barthes 1967, 142). Okigbo, in this sense, summarily disappears, forthwith in this article. Whatever incoherence, obscurity in speech, fright, anxiety, delusion, hallucination, silence, depersonalization and isolation that occur in Labyrinths are sheer pervasions of the mind of a persona – the author had entered ‘his own death’ much earlier. In what follows, I explore ‘… the distinct realms of knowledge into significant relation; to argue their analogous, contiguous, or causal interconnection; and to use one such realm in order to disclose or contextualize some unexpected feature of another’ (Mckeon 1994, 18). In this regard, I contextualize each distinct schizophrenic symptom seeking to model itself as artistic pattern to give impressions of obscure poetry. The result is the ‘unexpected’ close affinity of the pattern in a convoluted form between poetry and madness.
The media Labyrinths is borne out of ‘Homecoming’ of a persona who claims to have arrived, and the loneliness that accompanies the supposed blissful moments: ‘…nothing here is ashamed of obscure, obstinate feelings’ (Nietzsche 2006, 146). The paradox of obstinacy in this context is analogous to ‘anything goes’ rule in a professional tact-match in WWE. Everything is possible at homecoming including the thought of starting a tortuous and rancorous journey from hell to heaven in a weird and deadly manner. The choice by the persona to start the journey itself is based on mood swing in the mind. The swing ultimately leads to regrets, though it looks calm at the beginning. So, when the mood swung from bizarre islands in hell to heavens in Labyrinths, the persona surprisingly transfigured to a ‘Newcomer’ (Okigbo 1971,17) awaiting ‘Initiations’ (Okigbo, 1971, 6) and a grand reception by the ‘Watermaid’ (Okigbo 1971, 10) at ‘The Passage’ of the supposed heavens –the several chambers are assumed (Okigbo 1971, 2). The constellations ‘…later grew into a ceremony of innocence, something like a mass, an offering to Idoto, the village stream of which I drank, in which I washed, as a child; the celebrant, a personage like Orpheus, is about to begin a journey” (Okigbo 1971, xi). Do not ask where madness is in this poetry, or perhaps, the evolutionary methods in poetry and madness. Madness is this poetry; but in form of symptoms –the idea of homecoming, immersion of innocence, celebrity of a kind, and the incongruity of a celebrity like Orpheus in Greek mythology mystically swelling from the mind. Paul Maurice Legrain argues that ‘Mystical thoughts are to be laid to the account of the insanity of the degenerate’ (1886, 45). That is to say, the allusion to Orpheus in Labyrinths is a mysterious transference of obscure mental image conjured by the persona to create a mythological account of ‘Idoto’ and to premise the ego-maniac force in ‘of which I drank, in which I washed.’ For recounting the weird experience of a journey yet to start, and for already experiencing remission from delusional grandeur associated with loneliness, the persona, for sure, is in a disordered mind, if loneliness, egomania, and mythical thoughts are subjected to mind, persona, and poetry with the aim to discover madness.
The physiology of ‘morbidity associated with loneliness appears to be mediated by psychological changes’ and a sense of failure in the persona (Febian et al 2016, 4). Indeed, ‘one with a load of destiny on his head (Okigbo 1971, xiv) incredibly indicates a sense of failure of an obscure persona and an impenetrable personality. Obscurity and impenetrability in the mind of the persona are obvious in ‘after we had formed/ then only the forms were formed/ and all the forms/ were formed after our forming… (Okigbo 1971, 57) The misunderstanding is compounded by the strange ‘we’ pronoun that splits the persona into personae or multiple personalities. ‘It is at least possible to suppose that the individual whose abiding mode of being-in-the-world is of this split nature is living in what to him, if not to us, is a world that threatens his being from all sides, and from which there is no exit’ (Laing 1990, 79). The entrapped is not only stripped of dignity and identity in the mind, the meaninglessness of the trap makes the persona suddenly become ‘talkative like the weaverbird’, and in ‘Between sleep and waking’ abruptly brandishes ‘A tiger mask and nude spear….’ (Okigbo 1971, 23). This insomnia all the more acerbates restlessness of the mind in Labyrinths.
The psychomotor-related problem ‘becoming talkative’, which is either from the experience of sleepiness or the lack of it, leaves the polygonal reader perplexed. The obvious question arising from the uncertainties, even from the persona, in the crisis moment in Labyrinths is: ‘Was it a vision or a waking dream’ of the mind? (Keats 1960, 356). David F. Dinges and seven other researchers revealed that ‘The most consistent effect on subjective sleepiness and mood was a reliable change across days of sleep restriction’ (Dinges et al 1997, 270). The physical ‘change’ in talking too much due to lack of sleep is evident in ‘If I don’t learn to shut my mouth I’ll soon go to hell. I Okigbo, town-crier, together with my iron bell’ (Okigbo 1971, 67). Either way, being asleep and at the same time being awake is obscure and psychologically mind depriving –hence its relation to mind, person, poetry and madness. The sudden swap of identity or the identity theft in ‘I Okigbo’ is worrisome. To an alarmist, the swap is a ploy, perhaps; but the obscure manoeuver results to depersonalization in poetry. ‘It is in this depersonalisation that art may be said to approach the condition of science’ –the science of mind and poetry (Eliot 1962, 470). Eliot alludes that the persona in Labyrinths has one foot in poetry and the other in affective sciences.
The awake or the dream experience in Labyrinths, from affective sciences perspective, inflames mythical jokes and their relations to lifelessness the Idoma man in North Central Nigeria humorously describes as ‘imputation of unreality’. One example of mythic jokes in Idoma relating to unconscious frequently used is: ‘Ebiode choko…’ Only the initiate doubly initiated like the initiations in Labyrinths (Okigbo 1971, 6-9) not a ‘Newcomer’ (Okigbo 1971, 17-19) understands the hilarious imputations of the catchy phrase which fully translated is: ‘Ebiode choko Ode kikpo kano kweba’ –while on the neck of someone to cross a menacing river, the frightened Ode in self-transcendence screams: ‘my feet touch a big fish’. The pleasure of the Ode joke lies in the impossibility of being on someone’s neck, far away and above the water; yet claiming the feet, not that of the carrier, touch a fish, and a big one for that matter, down the river. The joke arouses interest of the hearer, who mentally battles the impossibility and comes to a resolution in the mind that Ode’s behaviour depicts lunacy or ‘idiocy masquerading as a joke’ (Freud 1960, 190). The aura of incredulity in this myth coupled with multiplicity of personalities encountered in ‘after we had formed,’ make it more compelling for the reader not to accept ‘I Okigbo’ in Labyrinths to be real, and in any way practically possible. ‘I Okigbo’ is a charade and ‘…the white lies it sounds like’ (Browning 1996, 645). Yelling and claiming the feet touch a big fish is a case of depersonalization bordering on identity theft to accentuate and methodically display obscurities in Labyrinths. Similarly, ‘What if’ arguments, arise from ‘…If I don’t learn to shut my mouth I’ll soon go to hell’ (Okigbo 1971, 67).
The utterance is symptomatically paranoiac –false senses that someone is targeting the persona with the aim of eliminating him? What if, in the real sense, no one is targeting the persona, where does he go to, blissful heaven? What if the bliss renders him grandiose? And what if, as the persona claims he is Okigbo, and someone is unfortunate enough to believe that he is, how do we account for delusion of inclusion in the poetry? ‘Okigbo accompanies us the oracle enkindles us’ and ‘Okigbo accompanies us the rattles enlighten us’ (Okigbo 1971, 69) also encounter the ‘what if’ argument in the mind. ‘What if’ argument makes inquiries into mind, persona, and poetry somehow methodical and highly experimental in the search for madness. Experimentations in these suppositions range from confusions in meanings and meaningful confusions to misunderstandings between poetry and the mind. Less confusion is in the binary: ‘Okigbo accompanies us’, but while delusion of inclusion clearly identifies the persona other than Okigbo, confusions in ‘…the oracle enkindles us’ and ‘…the rattles enlighten us’ are unprecedentedly incomprehensible. Oracular and commotions created by the poetry bifurcate into further misunderstandings of what is imagination on the one hand, and what is perception on the other, albeit the duo are regarded as extraordinary show of semantic oddities in Labyrinths.
‘Disordered thinking and delusions sometimes–but not always–co-occur in acute phases of schizophrenia and often, in bipolar acute mania’ (Elvevåg, et al 2011, 461). The disturbing aspects in ‘oracle’ and in ‘rattles’ are the inability of the mind to predict imminent dangers involved in the harrowing visual picture ‘of Guernica, /On whose canvas of blood, /The slits of his tongue cling to glue’ (Okigbo 1971, 35). The visual pictures render the persona mesmerized, and in ‘reversed dream’ –hence the implosion and wailings ‘for the fields of men: For the barren wedded ones; /For perishing children….’ (Okigbo 1971, 50) Instigated by realities of the 1937 Spanish War –the broken limbs, headless bodies, fallen walls, severed faces, hands, and feet in Pablo Picasso’s ‘Guernica’ orchestrates what has not happened in Nigeria, but yet imagined to have happened in the mode of source memory in Labyrinths. Source memory inevitably intermingle poetry to degenerate into symptoms often ‘…associated with hallucinations among patients with schizophrenia, as well as healthy individuals scoring high on a scale measuring predisposition to hallucinations’ (Bre´bion et al 2008, 383). As someone predisposed to hallucinations, the persona ostensibly cast off ‘the burden of several centuries’ (Okigbo `97`, 64) only to encounter the admixture of visions typical of the mentally ill. The visions of the encounter –i.e., the metaphors, which indicate break of thunder and war, and the unexpected ‘Hurray for thunder’ echo the loss of bodily sensations. A good mind and poetry researcher will diagnose the sensual experience with the result that ‘The process is that of sensual anaesthesia, of total liberation from all physical and emotional tension; the end result, a state of aesthetic grace’ (Okigbo 1971, xii). Sensory anaesthesia and the so-called aesthetic beauty are two obscure combinations that run on our minds. The persona’s regrets at leaning ‘upon a withered branch/ A blind beggar leaning on a porch’ (Okigbo 1971, 64), or ‘O wind, swell my sails; and may my banner run the course of wider waters’, (Okigbo 1971, 65), or the secrets threatening with ‘iron mask/ The last lighted torch of the century (Okigbo 1971, 66) leading to thunder outbreak are poetry hard to disambiguate, at least not without a mind and poetry focus on the behavioural patterns of the obtuse maker. An easy resolution of the obtuseness is feasible. It comes in ‘sensual anaesthesia’ and such contras as frenzy, or perilous, or stuporous, which indicate symptoms of schizophrenia; yet not without the loss of consciousness or ‘aesthetic grace’.
Visual grace in ‘Imagination is a mental faculty, which develops conceptions by the synthesis of perceptions’ (Giebeler-Angelika 1983, 16). The scenario weighs near ‘Logistics/ Which is what poetry is’ in Labyrinths (Okigbo 1971, 9). The distortion of sensory response from the visual scenes in Labyrinths makes transitory encounters momentary. It is ‘So brief her presence – /match-flare in wind’s breath –/so brief with mirrors around’ (Okigbo 1971, 11). The transitory encounter leaves the persona in Labyrinths mentally bruised, confused and confounded, ‘and I, where am I? /fulfilling each moment in a /broken monody’ –a tinge that is half poetry and half mania (Okigbo 1971, 13). Mind and poetry methods in Labyrinths, nonetheless, reveals, and the revelation leaves no options in poetic discourse, that ‘Illness was no doubt the final cause of the whole urge to create’ (Heine 2004, 2). In the brief encounter between the persona and the Watermaid, the dictum, ‘When you have finished /& done up my stitches, /Wake me near the altar, / & this poem will be finished…’ practically endorses the fret, the freak and the fright associated with pathological conjectures. If nothing else, the aura of dissections and surgery recalls anxieties and somatic manifestations such as palpitations. How the internal and physical manifestations of madness blend with poetry to create obscurities in Labyrinths does not really matter, at least, not to the persona, so long the combinations bring forth a perfect union. In this way, ‘…who says it matters/ Which way the kite flows, /Provided the movement is/ Around the burning market’? (Okigbo 1971, 30). The obscure approaches, nevertheless, matter to mind and poetry –hence the subject of this article.
The metaphysics of mentally panel-beating or descending ‘upon the twin gods of Irkalla’ puts African cosmology in the front burner (Okigbo 1971, 33). The metaphysics matters where the mind negotiates between a behavioural breakdown and a normative order in the persona. The twin gods of the forest –the tortoise and the python in Igbo traditions spiritually subdue the Mesopotamian deities amidst silences. ‘The gods lie unsung, /Veiled only with mould, /Behind the shrinehouse’ and in inertness (Okigbo 1971, 34). Poetry, even so, thrives in silences: ‘Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter’ (Keats 1960, 320). It is for this reason that ‘Silences’ in Labyrinths ‘explores the possibilities of poetic metaphor in an attempt to elicit the music to which all imperishable cries must aspire’ (Okigbo 1971, xii). It is apparent to ask the legitimate question that ‘How many times can a man turn his head /And pretend he just doesn’t see’ anything in the imperishable cries? (Dylan, 1963). The cries are not only from the imperishable, the cries intensify the search for madness in silences. That is to say, no matter how golden silence may look, the persona pretending not to see what goes on is mentally disorganized by ‘the sounds and silence in madness’ in he who turns his eyes away from the realities (Lougy 1984, 407). Silence predates Labyrinths; though the archaeology of silence in poetry started in the 18th century, when literary critics began to admire ‘…all those stammered, imperfect words without fixed syntax in which the exchange between madness and reason was made’ (Foucault 1961, x). Madness, in this sense, is silence and silence is madness with neither a ‘why question, nor a probing ‘how’ method in the incoherent, incongruent and jumbled poetry syntax typical of madness.
The ‘imperishable cries’ of ‘the Silent Sisters’ in Labyrinths draw on Gerald Hopkins’ The Wreck of the Deutschland; yet they are ‘…entirely metaphoric; the ship is the Nigerian society of the early 1960s which foundered in a political storm’ (Egudu 2003, 28). This view on silence in which nuns in Labyrinths are sole victims with no ‘escape ladder’ or ‘an anchorage’ in a drowning boat heightens silence in the mind to a state of catatonic schizophrenia. ‘So, one dips one’s tongue in ocean, and begins /To cry to the mushroom of the sky’ in the unfortunate disaster (Okigbo 1971, 41). If ocean metaphor ‘is the sigh of our spirits’ and we are silently confused on how ‘We shall make a grey turn to face it’ (Okigbo 1971, 42), what makes madness different from silence in Labyrinths –the mind, the poetry, the puzzle, the probe, or the methods?
Evanescence appears in form of ‘match flare’ in Labyrinths, says one critique. It is implanted from Ezra Pound’s ‘Cantos 6 and 104, and where the ‘downward’ movement in Labyrinths really is ‘upward,’ and the wind that of the King (Clark 1978, 25). Swapping of personae rarely occurs in poetry, that is, the persona in Labyrinths may be likened to the persona in Pound’s, it is hardly the same, except in the application of culture where one puzzle mutates the other as spirituality. Sunday O. Anozie describes this kind of illusionary cross-referencing in poetry as ‘the result of successive impacts on a highly sensitive mind’ (1967, 158). A ‘sensitive mind,’ in the case of Labyrinths, means there are certain conclusions to reach on the behaviour of the persona, in particularly when the behaviour is patterned into sanity and insanity. The division looks like ‘frame problem’ in artificial intelligence (Hayes 1973, 223). A conclusion that the persona is sane or insane is futuristic. Dana S. Scott, Gilbert Harman, and John Haugeland explain ‘frame problem’ to mean thus: ‘in the computational theory of the mind when we envision a system that anticipates what the future will be like given certain changes’ (1990, 42). Expectedly, the ‘changes’ in Labyrinths occur when sanity in the poetry turns to insanity by virtue of the application of psychoanalytic approach. What Anozie means by ‘a highly sensitive mind’ is that an imaginative mind bifurcated by obscurities is susceptible to behavioural patterns in Labyrinths. The mind’s framework in Labyrinths is, therefore, interestingly manageable.
In what follows, I demonstrate the methodology of using imagination of Greek mythology on the persona and the influence on Igbo traditions based on source memory. In ‘It is over, Palinurus, at least for you, /In yours tarmac of night and fever-dew’ (Okigbo 1971, 47), the source of the information is contextually Grecian. Except for the night that perceptually has ‘tarmac’ suggesting a movement and the imprecise ‘fever-dew’ that suggests mood disorder, the utterance of the persona is more of word-salad typical of a schizophrenic. In Virgil’s Aeneid, Palinurus who pilots Aeneas fleeing at night to a new homeland in Italy following the Trojans war in Troy is trounced by the god of sleep, falls into the sea and is drowned. There are no clear connections between Igbo traditions and this Greek epic; but the persona who engages in mental pictures of Greek mythology draws on the far-fetched-allusion to emphasize classical drama on the mind. This means the mind of the persona, like the computer, in this instance is not localized; even as the persona turns to chart an independent course for Igbo traditions in Labyrinths. Alan Turing hypothesis that, ‘we need a comparably fundamental dichotomy between mental processes that are local and ones that aren’t’ (qtd in Fodor 2001, 5). This explains the unconscious mental method destroying the twin gods Irkalla and the conscious approach in adapting the tortoise and the python to mentally localize Labyrinths.
Igbo traditional mind, again, fleers up in the salient incantation tunes in drum modes. The drum is traditionally used to invoke ‘ogbanje’ spirits to move, even if they ‘are very far away,’ to come. In Labyrinths, the drums speak in broken and disjointed tunes reminiscence of invocation: ‘We are tuned for feast-of-seven-souls’ (Okigbo 1971, 45). The plaint painful tone of the drums moves Labyrinths closer to senseless incantations. ‘Seven’ as a number mentally hold the spirits together. It ‘…is a portentous magical word in Igbo mythology; it is a diabolical number used to evoke the evil spirit in an ominous incantation’ (Acholonu, 1988, 109). Mind and incantations, after all, are seemingly senseless sounds used either to invoke spirits or cure illness in magical traditions. The persona, in this context, uses incantatory sounds of the hollow drums, tanks and thunder, to magically invite ‘swifter messengers’, re-engage the weary gonads, and move them from the forest to intervene in the threatening air. This obscure nostalgic infatuation reminiscences ‘ogbanje’ tradition, again, recalls ‘Ishthar’s lament for Tammuz’ in Greek mythology and further complicates the already chaotic mind in Labyrinths (Okigbo 1971, 49).
Reinforcing complications in the mind, at this point, is shrouded in wailing ‘For the barren wedded ones; /For perishing children…’ and, of course, ‘…for the fields of men’ (Okigbo 1971, 50). So far, there is none in mind and poetry research, where the amorphous persona in this state of confusion, or contrition, anxieties or hallucinations, paranoia or egomania, either in a pathological and a psychological worlds who will not in all honesty mumble sounds/incantations in the high risk condition. Incantation, in other words, minimally navigates methodical erudition to concatenate poetry and the mind. No one else understands concatenation better than the persona who in solitude paddles ‘…through some dark/ labyrinth, from laughter to the dream’ (Okigbo 1971, 53). The persona, from the poetry of ‘dark labyrinth,’ moves from ambush to anguish, and surreptitiously lands in fleeting catatonia: ‘the only way to go/through the archway/to the catatonic pingpong/of the evanescent halo… (Okigbo 1971, 57).
Apparently, this momentary excitement after a bout of catatonic schizophrenia tells how ‘each sigh is the stillness of the kiss…’ in obscurity (Okigbo 11971, 58). The evanescence of this episode makes Labyrinths more of verbal violence that leaves no traces of intelligibility at the end. Intelligibility in Labyrinths, even where it echoes onomatopoeically, is further impaired as the utterance drags the hearer to partake in the estranged communion: ‘Come into my carven/ Shake the mildew from your hair; / Let your ear listen; / My mouth calls from a carven….’ (Okigbo 1971, 59) This invitation into privacy intrinsically lures configurations of conflicting meanings in a verbal rage. Take, for instance, the hapless figurative expression: ‘O mother mother Earth, unbind me; let this be my last testament’ (Okigbo 1971, 71). If Earth unbinds the persona in Labyrinths, the verbal rage crudely foresees his death. It is from this foresight that a twist on rebirth quickly pops in the elegiac rage that ‘foreshadows its going /Before a going and coming that goes on forever…’ (Okigbo 1971, 73). Rage and tears suggest continuities in poetry and obsessions and mentally foreground a rebirth conundrum to bring forth a new persona. Rage in dying and the pains of rebirth in Labyrinths, therefore, opens up new directions in mind, persona, and poetry tacitly tampered with madness.
One hypothesis of the mind is that, and the hypothesis looks credible, ‘The obvious illustration of foregrounding comes from the semantic opposition of literal and figurative meaning: a literary metaphor is a semantic oddity which demands that a linguistic form should be given something other than its normal (literal) interpretation’ (Leech 1965, 154). The fury in ‘Going and coming that goes on forever’’ with which Labyrinths draws to a close, again, recalls the local excitement and tears associated with ‘ogbanje’ child in Igbo tradition. Notwithstanding this traditional interpretation, the poetry of rebirth in a rage stands in strong opposition –i.e., as the persona in Labyrinths departs, the departure predicts the coming of ‘a new star’ or a new persona who may be as incomprehensible as the ‘OLD STAR’ (Okigbo 1971, 72). Mind, persona, and poetry, in this sense, is hypothetically imbued with lunacy of varying types, and in varying circumstances, now, and in time to come.