I could not hold his hand. It was lovingly holding my phone, cheating his attention with a block of silicon, reaching out to another man. Subtle disrespect, almost socially acceptable, or at least, normal. To be fair, that was our first date. Was he really expecting me to have a clean plate?
Wait, date is not the right word, it was more so the convergence of two human bodies on similar coordinates.
I took a picture of this moment because the gap between my physical and emotional presence in this instance stirred an important question in this era of increasingly cheap data and omnipresent technology.
I also took a picture because well, I was taking a picture for someone else. He virtually cock-blocked (feminine equivalence) me with photobombing it with this hopeful move.
Where was my reality? Here and now, really? What are the conditions to accept a perspective, an emotion or a sensation as "real"? Are we arrogant enough to think that our underused cerebral capacities have cracked the code of reality beyond a convenient perspective that allows us to function collectively?
Was this moment in the physical world that I could touch and that you can now see with your own eyes as exposed here beside truer than this exchange of data through servers and satellites floating in outer-space with a man who breathes miles away?
Yet, the touch of this man that I could feel felt alien, stranger than non-fiction.
The gatekeeper yelling in my brain. Reality blurred, jumping from a universe to another, without warning for the other, all undercover under my screen.
But really, the other can feel it, as he glances in the reflection in my eyes, the pixels dancing and confusing all of my inside.
The birth of emotional tele-transportation, listening to the signal from within.
Heart over matter.
Soon enough, the mind reveals, aided by technology, the illusion of the physical world.
Now, you can design your reality. I believe that's where the stress of technology originates from:
We are afraid of it because of the burden of unlimited choice, the responsibility associated with control, its resulting consequences, and the infinite expansion that it offers to us.
Here and now, in this physical world, somewhere still in nature, is so much easier, controllable and comfortable. Silence is blissful.
An ever-expanding universe in which we become creators, is, in opposite, mystical chaos.
In this sense, on that day, I was with a man I have loved for his human qualities, not with the actual man I was physically with. That was the reality I chose, as painful as it may be for the human bodies moving around me in my physical reality, the only one we currently accept as "real".
Sometimes, most times, our bodies are here, our minds are somewhere else. Meditation is one type of medication to balance this slow downfall into made-up worlds dissolving our actual presence.
This is why we ought to have a discussion around emotional and physical faithfulness. The real gold isn't in the friction of the skin, but more so in the neurons and the energetic exchanges. They are much more sophisticated, rare and rewarding.
I am not escaping, I am choosing, I am elevating beyond the burden of the body, and the hunger of my inside. I am designing a reality, and letting my mind love freely.
More and more, we will all be designers of our reality, feeling the kind of love we once thought impossible.
The mimicry of God, the re-writing of a multidimensional story, fucking data instead of dicks, until the dick and the data align, in the fantastically sophisticated software of your mind. Actually, until the rise of Singularity, our mind is The Software, connected to higher forces we don't fully understand yet.
And since the mind is the ultimate inspiration and creator of all technology and ideas we have of "reality", I am convinced that this awkward puberty age of technology will one day bloom to an elevated symbiosis in which our hearts and collective unconscious will expand and stream, as one.