A zine and poem reflecting on posthumanism,
our fading embodied memories of the land,
and our growing entanglement with the machine.
~~~
our fading embodied memories of the land,
and our growing entanglement with the machine.
~~~
Rather than retracing our ancestral trails by the water,
we tether ourselves more and more to the machine.
Our minds sync to one digital cloud,
while the river bends once etched into our bodies,
slowly weather away.
The river used to meld into our hands
as we trailed long hours beside it,
the footsteps imprinted in the soil would draw a map flowing through our arteries.
Our bodies once rippled with the river,
we danced through the turning seasons together.
But us humans wanted to navigate wider terrains,
and so we crafted artificial tools to transcend our ecological network.
With compasses, we could distinguish north and south without the sun,with street directories, we could trace our paths without knowing the land, with the GPS, we could walk anywhere without even looking up.
How far will we wander,
untangling ourselves from the earth's natural internet?
When did it start,
when did we start turning our heads
back from rivers and onto roads?
What if we turn around,
only to find the rivers canals and arteries,
tainted, dried up and poisoned?
As the living memory of the river is polluted,
it only starts to exist in a digital consciousness,
discarded from the body.
Embedded within our devices,
our primordial selves begin to evaporate,
the memory of footsteps along the river washing away.
I wonder, did we walk down this path because we chose not to see earth as a mirror anymore?
Now that the computer is becoming our primary vessel.
How do we weave ourselves back to the earth?
How do we connect with the world wide web and the wood wide web in synchronicity?
Have we forgotten that we are made of 70% water,
that a deep spring resides within every one of us?
Perhaps we should ask the river, while we still can.
we tether ourselves more and more to the machine.
Our minds sync to one digital cloud,
while the river bends once etched into our bodies,
slowly weather away.
The river used to meld into our hands
as we trailed long hours beside it,
the footsteps imprinted in the soil would draw a map flowing through our arteries.
Our bodies once rippled with the river,
we danced through the turning seasons together.
But us humans wanted to navigate wider terrains,
and so we crafted artificial tools to transcend our ecological network.
With compasses, we could distinguish north and south without the sun,with street directories, we could trace our paths without knowing the land, with the GPS, we could walk anywhere without even looking up.
How far will we wander,
untangling ourselves from the earth's natural internet?
When did it start,
when did we start turning our heads
back from rivers and onto roads?
What if we turn around,
only to find the rivers canals and arteries,
tainted, dried up and poisoned?
As the living memory of the river is polluted,
it only starts to exist in a digital consciousness,
discarded from the body.
Embedded within our devices,
our primordial selves begin to evaporate,
the memory of footsteps along the river washing away.
I wonder, did we walk down this path because we chose not to see earth as a mirror anymore?
Now that the computer is becoming our primary vessel.
How do we weave ourselves back to the earth?
How do we connect with the world wide web and the wood wide web in synchronicity?
Have we forgotten that we are made of 70% water,
that a deep spring resides within every one of us?
Perhaps we should ask the river, while we still can.