Organised Chaos — the blurred binary boundary
“The danger of crossing the line” or the fear of interference is demonstrated in a film called “My Octopus Teacher” in two manners. This film is a documentary about how a middle aged man reconnects to himself through observing, interacting with and learning from an octopus in south Africa for more than one year. The first occasional fear of interference was evoked when the octopus got attacked by a shark and resulted in the lost of one tentacle. The man was terrified when he noticed the potential threat towards his “lover”, however, he made a decision to not interfere with it because his belief in non-interference after scientific spirit to respect the law of nature. The second occurrence of “The danger of crossing the line” was however insinuating since it is related to the discourse of love and a more “shady” topic about erotic imagination. As he narrated in the film, “ I am in love with her (the octopus)”, while the octopus attached on his chest, culminating a beautiful scenario between human and beast resembling the classic fairy tale between Belle and the beast. Since here, there are some doubts about the efficacy of the film title “My Octopus Teacher”, or should it be renamed “My Octopus Lover” because of the sensational arousal imbued in their “romantic” yet “pedagogical” relationship. The recoiled narratives and concealed emotion can be clearly spotted during the documentary, which ends up in an awkward bigotry in dualism probably stemmed from an overarching sense of erotophobia in our modern society.
Any “sex” related topic has been strictly controlled, categorised and demoralised since modern civilisation. It is never properly confronted either domestically or educationally for most of the people in the world. It is forged into a dangerous zone that inevitably develops into a lure as well as a power-wielding tool according to Foucauldian theory on sex and power. As a result, all sexually related issues have been used to build a strong boundary which is supposed to embarrass ourselves in the daylight. Erotophobia is hence lingering around the notion of ethic- dichotomy. It is probably worthwhile to form an organised chaos that accepts the deepest lure and the immanence of being an authentic lovable human being.
Zero-interference is already impossible after the universe matter combined with antimatter, generating our consciousness— a tendency of unconditional love to probe outwards, yet being organised inwards. The pseudo-organised entity tends to eradicate its fear of chaos through all forms of erotic rituals, physical and metaphysical. For us human being, the inhibited and concealed sexually evinced verbalisation and textual manifestation historically fostered the straight power game in our governance. Those long-time observed, analysed, experimented critters could bear to offer us their flesh and bone, yet umbrageously embracing the nature of their organised chaos or so we called “degenerating”. The automatisation of their existential causality thrives to retrieve life and love. As brutal life it is, octopus’s aesthetically pleasing chromatophore pleases no one but sustains her life. As permeable love it is, octopus’s tentacles gently adhere on one’s chest or tentatively evoke one’s titillation to reach the vibrating climax rippling in the salty water. There is no line to cross and hence no entity to interfere. Nevertheless, there is an oriented objectivity to love, around love and so to fear. There is no -phobia but a backwards emotional rejection to your organised chaos, which is endurably beautiful. Why not just swim in the organised chaos? Becoming the aesthetic automatisation to your organised chaos.