Along the trails of ephemeral self-portraits

The vibes around you are buzzing. The people around you confirm that this is the place where you want to be. Right here, right now, you are the hero of the moment. It’s your moniker in this fragile fragment of the world and your arm extends, without thinking, like Zen-archery. You turn and brandish a smile towards an undetermined audience, to a virtual observer that is not here but is omnipresent and affirmative. And you click a selfie.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sure, it was for teenage kicks, but now it’s the accepted behaviour of presidents. Are selfishness and attention-seeking increasing their influence on our construct of identity? Are we living in a virtual, continual streaming of entertainment, that is fast becoming real life? It’s nothing to worry about. We are merely exploring the possibilities of a new technological platform. But the truth is that human minds have always been fatally attracted to expressing themselves.

Anatomically modern humans were wandering on this planet for 150,000 years, but we only started to be self-conscious 77,000 years ago. Our cognition is designed to become aware of itself in front of itself, that is, to be self-conscious. It may be the complexity and capability of our cerebrum that is responsible for our humanistic imagination and rationalization, but those whirring cognitive cogs need a stage upon which perform.

The first touch screen was the wall of the Blombos Cave in South Africa. There they drew the projection of their imagination and inner thoughts, at long last extending their cognitive ability in front of themselves. On those rocks, you’ll find stories of hunting and worship, and above all handprints of lines and signatures of spots; the signs of the self-recognition of cognition and being aware, imprinted by the inventors of their own narratives.

They were modern men, interested in combing their hair and applying ochre to their skin. They were men who admired their own way of thinking whilst despising the ideologies of their adversaries. And from the organization of billions upon billions of synaptic connections, was born the epitome of representation, self-consciousness, to be human. It was then that the Ur-selfie was born. And it is since then that our accelerated brain has exploited every possible platform to mark its presence in front itself, not matter how ephemeral or temporary this manifestation could be.

Being became aware of its own presence, or so Heidegger would say. But the manifestation of self-consciousness is also the ultimate platform. From the cave’s wall, those first touch screens of representations bounced back thoughts and imagination in the form of words. This was the beginning of augmented reality, because words started to superimpose layer upon layer of complex information on the surroundings.

Our world is made up of the stories of the hundreds of generations and the millions of individuals who’ve left behind the narrative trail of their consciousness. Brains don’t love or hate, neither do they dress up or dine out. Do you really think that it is your brain going to work and loving your partner, or that it is your narrative, intermingled with those of all the people in your life, including Mandela and Miley Cirrus, that is giving you the augmented platform for your projections?

The selfie-technology of consciousness transforms every situation with opportunity to stage self-expressions. Some platforms grow, ripen and then die out. Some stories are convincing today, but tomorrow they’ll fade away. In the 1950s, owning a lawnmower epitomized the narrative projection of the desired lifestyle. Nowadays, even though you don’t need to change your iPhone more than your vacuum-cleaner, your consciousness craves to be better represented by the latest Smartphone than by a state-of-the-art Dyson.The revolution of information technology provided a new, powerful platform and when it became social, setting the stage for massive self-representation: your mark seen by a planetary audience. Selfies are so irresistible because our brain feels the same thrill it sensed all those millennia ago, the same euphoric ecstatic rebirth of self-consciousness, and all its storytelling experiences in this world.

With Google on the verge of introducing its G-Glasses, having the connectivity of a smart phone in front of your eyes will be a game changer of habits and thinking. Our own perception of the world, and consequently of ourselves, will be altered. Every time a brain approaches a stage, it has the chance to present itself in front of itself. Whether you’re a banker or a lawyer, every human brain, deep at its core, is an artist. Just as it was back in Blombos, it is now.

A feast of Holograms: “I am” she criedUnexpected trail of ancestors

Last evening I was having a spliff with my friend Pinocchio. I’m not comfortable with this, since smoking for a wooden puppet is not always safe and wise, but what can you do? We were seated just outside our local, the only pub open on the dark side of the moon. You know, it’s a quite deep provincial place: nothing happens and you resort to hallucinate yourself to feel of being alive. A bit like everybody in every other shit hole everywhere else…

So finally we decided to do something and with a bit of arrogance, lack of alternatives and high dosage of psychotropic substance in our blood, we made a move to the swankiest club on the moon: the ENBELAUSOCLU or the Enlightened Being Labour Union Social Club. They meet only after work, but since they are enlightened beings, well, it runs non-stop. And with that I mean, eternally.

So Pinocchio and I stepped in and…well with our great surprise at the moment, but not very much with hindsight if you consider the exact character of the patrons, they welcomed us wholeheartedly, genuinely and without a hitch whatsoever. Immediately we have been introduced to all the guys and would you image what is the most common greeting among enlightened beings? Exactly! “Hi bro”. 

But again, you should expect they are pretty cool. Pinocchio and I,feeling more and more confident, decided to hit the bar, almost unconsciously. And guess what? There was one! And a magnificent type I must say. A bit like the Graal in Indiana Jones, it is not a posh, Dubaiesque, super-fashion kind of parlour, but a frank, efficient saloon. Why so good? It has everything! Seriously: Ardberg, Beluga, Morellino but also Arnais, Lison, Exmoor Beast, or even Priorat. 

Why magnificent? 

Open bar. 

Yes my friend, I had almost to console Pinocchio: he was in tears, sobbing like a child, which is funny because all its joints were clinking like maracas. 

Anyway, we were sipping a Chianti in our pint glasses, when we finally started to look at the amazing frequenters of the place.

There was literally everybody: at least a couple of dozen of Buddhas, Bayazid in great shape, JC, a couple of very pale Celtic virgins, a handful of shamans, several totemic ancestors, two VERY old guys, Wittgenstein (probably the most unease one in the place: not a smile), Madiba, Quetzalcoatl. I was staring at all these wonderful souls in a state of admiration and confusion, when suddenly I spotted Granpa. MY Granpa, walking arm in arm with the Fairy with the Turquoise hair. Don’t take me wrong, my grandfather was a nice man, a generous, solid elementary teacher. But his biggest accomplishment towards universal harmony was to have deserted the army during the war. Twice, the same war.

I shouted with a piercing voice “Granny, wa'dayuidduing here?”. I fainted, probably because of the strong emotion and also for the firm slap from one of the druids (with a fish). 

Bad vibes are fairly matched in the ENBELAUSOCLU. 

Patronizing with ancestors, fault.

When finally I could start a conversation, Guanyin was sweaping my forehead with a wet towel, and obviously my first uttered expression was: “Thank you”. 

If only I could remember to start that way always! 

Damn! 

But not always the Goddess of Mercy is refreshing your deranged head. Fair point. Anyway: back to the story.

First: start with “turning off the light” with my ear. Basically twisting my auricular devices till crying. Then he commenced to share wisdom with amiability. Remembering that enlightenment is mainly a low profile: if you are too focused in stating that you are enlightened, good chances you are not. No reason why your old ones shouldn't be enlisted. 

Second: enlightenment is not about super powers, your neighbor with lawnmower could be one. Just not likely. 

Third: have you smoked again with Pinocchio? I told you it’s not good, especially for him, since it’s a wooden puppet. 

Fourth: we are all living beings and enlightenment is first and foremost being aware of being a being. We started many years ago (many) with some protein chains. 

They weren't aware. 

Long story short: some “things” of matter started to be aware of their own presence. AKA: first mindfulnessed ancestors (thank you totemic uncles). Enlightenment is a cherry on consciousness. So all your lineage till the first ancestors, are actually telling you something about the light of being. Don’t be surprised then to see relatives in this cognitive heaven.

At this point me and Granpa went on different paths. Literally. I wasn't convinced and he took the Fairy with Turquoise hair somewhere. 

I had to talk to Pinocchio quickly. But where was he gone? 

Desperation, abandon, loneliness. 

Many questions, few twists and irremediably here’s the bar.