Hungry for your electrons
It opens in phosphorescence.
these modern caves of Chauvet
where thoughts are shared
and memories sedimented.
Eye windows glued to screen-windows,
electron fields bouncing ephemeral,
Electronic graffiti of humanity,
collective ooze of Mind and hype.
Television came into my life when I was in my pre-teens. until then, voices from radio programs and from living persons were the sources of information about events happening in real-time. I was most impressed to see images of people in black and white, project through space into a luminous box before my eyes.
Today, virtual, and remote reality is a matter of daily life. Point-to-point communication reaches little hand-held boxes, even wristwatches, instantaneously. Billions of humans carrying these devices can receive almost simultaneously; breaking news, information on events, hate mongering on prejudices, opinions galore, inspirational messages, photos, videos, advertisements, or lewdness.
The instantaneous and wide-reaching messaging helps to effectively maintain relationships in far-away places (and even make some new ones) coordinate attempts to organize movements focusing on good causes, orchestrate political activism to try to achieve more freedom, like in the Arab Spring, or to manipulate fears and selfish pursuits, like Trump populism.
Relationships are no longer just based on proximity and an embrace, or on a one-to-one glance of eyes, but on digits transmitted through particle-waves. Like always, it is about attraction, sharing common views or tastes. But now it is easy to get the big numbers, those lights seen at a distance as you approach home, the nostalgia that chills your soul in an instant, the memories of tears, the deep encounters, are still there, but friendships are no longer just measured by depth but by also numbers.
‘Likes,’ replace acceptance smiles. How many followers do you have? asks Twitter, have you seen my face in Facebook? you are asked by unknown fingers. Yes, everything lingers still, like nights and life, but now we operate in remote as we talk, to so many who we do not know, but who we collect like precious butterflies.
The mind is impressed by the magnitude and speed of contacts, as we multiply our echoes, in valleys of unknown networks.
Yet somewhere, perhaps, a forgotten human is disconnected, we call them digitally impaired. He or she is still trying to figure out the beauty of stars and the intensity and dominance of desires, the source of the next meal, and still trying to understand, pain and pleasure.
To many out there, still there is no toilet, no running water, so also no Facebook, no email to connect with somebody as you and I can do sister and brother, and feel secure as we listen, to the spiritual lecture of the moment, or the opinions that we cherish becoming viral.
Notwithstanding, this computer screen captivates me, this new wall of Babylon where everybody writes now. So, every morning I wake up, with the same hang-ups, like Sisyphus, and I connect again in word and glances, to close ones in flesh near me, and I project sounds in boxes, to distant echoes of feeling and send digits to beating hearts imagined.
Embracing them somehow, even those whom I have never met, but suspect inside my space, including Rumi and Hafiz and God knows who else. So many beings in Being collapse, through this little window of time and cyberspace.
And no doubt this new tool has made the world smaller and feelings and thoughts easier to share, and not just with people living in our time zones but even when you get a quote, a poem, a story, a song, an image from the past through the worldwide connectivity you incorporate it in your now, as it impacts your consciousness at your present.
Day to day, I bow down to you in love, in the electromagnetic fields that connect us, sister and brother, adding you to my collection of could be embraces, to my long list of loyalty forever vows, as I get closer and closer to the proverbial dust or eternal song or whatever happens, in the eternal must.
Allow me please, while we can still connect through this magic mirror, to send you my state of mind and heart, as you send me yours, as we all try to understand define and transcend our respective journeys. So, do me a Twitter, or post to me on Facebook. Let your electromagnetic presence be known to my soul. It is cold outside when there are none, as one traverses these moonless spaces alone. Reveal your graces of form and spirit. I am waiting in front of this illuminated window, eyes burning, hungry for your electrons.
Source Credit: This article originally appeared on Wall Street International by Wall Street International. Read the original article - https://wsimag.com/culture/66524-hungry-for-your-electrons