'Hermeneutic Loops'

by Isobel D'Cruz Barnes

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In 2019 I had a nervous breakdown about the multiplicity of perspectives and what it meant for whether or not love is real. The force behind most of my actions that year were questions such as:

•    ‘If our varied experiences make us incapable of truly ‘understanding’ each other, how can we meaningfully love each other?’ or,

•  ‘If our feelings towards each other are influenced by external factors we can’t control, are they still significant?’

 and other existential things I wonder if everybody asks themselves.

I googled the word ‘hermeneutics’ more times than I can remember. I made mind-maps and word-webs out of disparate thoughts and patterns I noticed in my relationships and day-to-day life.

I imagined myself at different points of a crossroad, travelling to meet the objects of my desire in the centre.

Or, I would imagine us streaming down two parallel paths, suspended in indefinite (maybe permanent) distance.

I considered the limitations and possibilities of my own perspective.

Does fate exist and can it actually intervene with our lives?

Crossing lines                                                      Crossroads

At a cross road, at a stalemate

              Crossing paths, crossing parallel lines,

in the very centre of the crossroad.

Passing each other at opposite ends of a crossroad,

passing each other from the same point.

Collision                                                             Connections

Missing our connection at the crossroads.

Around this time I also became fixated with whether or not seemingly random objects and signs around me were sending me messages about my fate—omens.  I started writing down various words and incoherent sentences in the hope they would help me make sense of the omens, make sense of my thoughts, or at least become lyrics.

ecstatic feedback loops— vicious cycles

paradigm shift

                                        pseudoscience

dialectics

I began to research the omens I encountered. I found that omens could be traditional, like crows, white horses, the full moon, or auspicious numbers. Sometimes I decided things that weren’t conventionally ‘omens’ were still omens. Often these sorts of ‘omens’ were inane, but just out-of-place, like the antique candelabra that I found one day on Bell Street, or the flutter of rose petals I saw on the floor of the 11 tram.  The trouble with omens is, the more you look for them, the more you find them. The omens began to appear so much that every moment felt filled with meaning to the point of being indecipherable and incomprehensible.

The sheer scope of possibility began to overwhelm me. What if these omens indicated hundreds of other universes occurring simultaneously? To turn right was one possible outcome in this life, to turn left was another. To go forward was as literal as it was figurative. In the plane flying above me, I was returning to visit my family on another timeline, while in another dimension I didn’t exist yet.

Viewing directions as omens            Viewing directions as alternate universes

Splitting our consciousness into various universes

Matters of perspective contained within one individual,

as different universes within us.

Different universes in each individual.

Consciousness split into alternate realities.

Multiple realities simultaneously,

are genuinely real

Multiple realities can be inside one person and all be true

Multiple realities can be inside one person and all be false

No reality                                                                          Fragmented reality

The fixation I had with omens culminated on the afternoon I found a fortune telling book on the ground. Surely this was the omen of all omens? After consulting it obsessively for a few days, I had to accept defeat: none of the omens detailed in the book made any sense. What I’d found on the ground was a pulpy, archaic explanation of the ‘occult’—it even had a chapter on phrenology. More over, I was beginning to understand that omens could be a self-fulfilling prophecy in themselves, in that they are influenced by our cultural assignations to images.

Which elements of our reality do we need to just accept as true for the sake           of progress?

              Are they always true?                                Which ones are more interesting?

What if they’re more interesting but less genuine?

Can we use a less genuine image to say something more truthful?

                                     Truth as a universal thing.

Universal truth                                                                     Conceptual truth

I never solved any of my questions—but I did at least write some lyrics.

 ‘Omens’ was recorded by Hexdebt for PBS through the City of Melbourne Covid Arts Grants Program.

Listen Here.

‘Omens’ – Hexdebt

You see the writing on the wall                   

But the meaning’s missed

Could it be that (these)

eyes have eclipsed  the (signs)

for bricks? An undercurrent (pointing)

to an oversight. (Your)

commitment to resist is just a (way)

to placate superstition, hey, (Are)

you gonna rewind the tape, or (just)

call it a closed case for those (matters)

that pose a menace? Don’t forget it’s (of)

the essence, a resignation to (fate)!

Could it be that warning was a blessing in disguise?                            (These)

Suffice to say evasion takes a tax right to the pride.                             (signs)

Self-serveilled to derail the fact in your line of                                    (pointing)           

sight.                                                                                                      (your)                            

Still it arrives, that piece of evidence you didn’t                                  (way)

want to find                                                                                           (are)

Maybe you’ve been                                                                              (just)

vilified,                                                                                                 (matters)

consequently                                                                                         (of)

weaponised                                                                                           (fate)

Needed to feel desensitised,

so you threw hope to the side

Could it be that fixtation with

supreme observation

Is what dislocated action

from intention: a distraction?

Through all this analysis

Your roots in paralysis

and standing statuesque

You see a series of bust-bets

You hear the cusp of a future tense

You feel the rush of familiar suspense

Well amongst the ecoli and ennui

and feeds laced with deception

Entrenched somewhere is your

rightful direction

And though in the artefact

You found artifice,

to keep your armour in tact

it takes sacrifice

There comes an urge though you’ve

met with resistance

To turn face to face it, to give it

an audience

And when on the precipice,

that’s your boulder of Sisyphus

Waiting, waiting, waiting

(These) times might be a symptom that the

(signs) you have seen are only

(pointing) to direct, not a threat to

(your) continued existence. And the

(way) to persist when your coordinates

(are) hit and miss, out of order, is to

(just) acquiesce, and accept that it

(matters) to be meaningless. Nothing is

(of) consequence in the moment of

(fate)!

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Isobel D’Cruz Barnes is a Malaysian-Australian musician and music researcher based in Naarm/Melbourne. Both her writing and music address themes of identity, perspective and political resistance, with a focus on race in Australia. She plays bass in post-punk band Hexdebt.

‘Omens’ lyrics and mind-map written by Isobel D’Cruz and Agnes Whalan.

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