If it isn’t online, did it really happen?
Online Platforms vs Organic Memories.
Here I sit, gazing upon the world through a large window framed with pine. The taste of cold coffee enhancing the flashes of fire red, sombre greens and silent pools keeping me company on my journey, If only for a moment. The deep rumbling vibrations grounding my feet, The slight, unpredictable movements seating me for the duration.
My external programming instructs me to take a photo to categorise these moments and allow my feelings to conform to the social norms we blindly live by, but I believe that it’s the moments, that will out-live even the finest photograph, best quality recording or most meticulous documentation. A part of me believes they may even out-live these bones and flesh keeping me warm on my journey.
The moments that challenge our logic, conformity and knowledge. The ones that remain uncategorised long after their time has past. The moments that make us feel something we can’t put into words.
The warmth on my skin, although intermittent. The constant movement, although ever changing. I wonder if this is how I’ll remember this life? The taste of cold coffee in my mouth, the intermittent warmth of the sun on my skin, moving through moments I can’t describe, holding onto feelings I don’t understand.
If these are the things that remain, why do we refuse to lose ourselves in the moments that make up our lives? Why must something be explained or understood to have relevance? Why must these moments be processed, filtered and transported in a digestible digital package to be shared?
Our external programming teaches us that this is the only way to live, that to find happiness we must live like machines. That non conformity and broken things have no place in this world.
Yet, here I sit, watching the world whisper away my deepest worries. The ever changing essence of the earth slowing my blood and flesh, giving me a gift, without asking for anything in return. Giving me the opportunity to feel indescribable things, create moments in time that may even out-live my mind.
For the first time in this life, I accept this gift! I dare to feel. I dare to live, without knowing how. Live, without knowing when, or wondering why.
If this is how I shall view the showreel of my existence, I say Fuck It! Let me break from the conveyor belt. Disconnect me from the system. Unplug me from the mains.
I want to bleed. For my flesh allows me to live a life never to be enjoyed by even the most advanced technology. Broken things have a place in this world too, we are mother natures soldiers in our war against the machines.
