On Presence
Debatably, it’s no longer valid to merely exist. By that I mean these 200 grams in my pocket (my phone) have transformed my consciousness into that of a simultaneous translation machine, living out dual realities in the physical and digital realms.
Who I am must now be packaged.
I am a thing.
“I” am a brand.
I am THE brand.
Worth hinges on being seen.
Being seen equates to presence.
Presence is no longer a solitary, mundane act, but one of co-creation, atoms changing by the act of their observation before they’ve had the ability to take true form.
Then again, is life not merely enduring change? Sure. We must welcome and embrace change, but there is something to be said about a life that evolves in a natural rhythm.
Observing older people in Serbia sitting in a small group with an array of foodstuffs, coffee, and cigarettes has made me wonder whether we’ve lost something intangible and/or indelible by way of ceaselessly perfecting and presenting our lives in the most glorious light.
The chipped table covered in a stained tablecloth with inherited cutlery; a dress worn only at home and in front of close friends and family that has seen more washes than one has years; crumbs strewn about and flies sneaking a taste of the leftovers, all point to a bygone era marked by this act we call presence, of an imperfect life that is dear and has become all but elusive.
The simplicity.
The boredom.
The subtle exchanges in between breaths.
The repetition.
The tedium.
The returning.
The laughter and the love.
Most of all, the love.
Community.
Are they happy because they don’t know better, or have we convinced ourselves that aesthetic outings for the sake of being seen have somehow enriched our lives? We have exchanged moments for posts, truth for perfection, and one set of dinnerware for a never-ending selection of Instagram-worthy fine China.
And yet, I persistently ask myself: Am I just negating my own need to be seen, viewing my dual realities in a light that merely reflects my darkness? I can’t deny that I, too, am drawn to the allure of possibility that social media provides us, but perhaps sometimes, at least once in a while, we can turn our phones off, look at the person in front of us, and tell them they’ve got something in their teeth.