Sex, Holding Hands & Writing

You don’t need to know who you are to have sex but you do to hold hands.
     Something about us, consciousness we call it, ‘a mind endowed with subjectivity’ as Damasio puts it, continues to expand and diversify: the power to more than reproduce; the ability to fall in love, create art and hate each other. More about us is being transferred without being written down (email, texts) than it has for many, many years, but being stored without finding material form in vessels that won’t grow old and die (data storage). These are not memories which will die with us, or the thinking of the distant past which died with them, our ancestors who didn’t mark things down.
     Human beings are a product of our ever-expanding ways of remembering and thinking: the same old emotions, but new ways of responding to them. I imagine, as we go about transferring and storing, we’ll find ways of displacing ourselves permanently, losing our dependency on feeling. No need for metaphor in the kind of awful transfer I imagine; no possibility of love or holding hands as we escape our bodies. Or shouldn’t that be dying?
     You don’t need to know who you are to have sex but you do to hold hands. We wouldn’t be who we are without writing, and we certainly won’t be, either.

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