Embodiment, Incarnation
Every day, tens of millions of people around the world experience reflecting their physical identity in their digital one. It’s nothing truly new; we’ve always done this, transferring our selves into media, from paper to painting. It’s a human inclination. But without delving into the sources, let’s stay in the present where our social profiles, comments, emails, and everything we publish online contribute to creating a “Personomy” — a multifaceted identity that speaks to the ears, eyes, and, powerfully, to the hearts of people.
Sliding Doors
Personomy is not the expression of personality; rather, it’s the construction of an editable identity form that changes depending on the context in which it appears. It changes, but traces of our true identity can still be seen, more or less deeply. What we have today, unlike the past, is the possibility, or rather the necessity, to edit ourselves, to elaborate in a continuous state of sliding doors between the possible and impossible versions of ourselves.
The Mask Reveals, the Mask Veils
But personomy is not yet an embodiment. Despite our image being reiterated, relaunched, exposed, and multiplied infinitely, this representation is not yet a separate body from us, a body necessary to add the essential performative element to give life and evolve personomy into a mask that speaks for us but also has its own autonomous identity. The Pulcinella mask and the actor who interprets it coexist inevitably, without being the same thing.
Avatar
But this is still not embodiment. The actor and Pulcinella have a bond that is also a safeguard: it’s interpretation. There’s a role, Pulcinella, into which the actor steps by donning its clothes, and a skilled actor gives the mask what it receives, in a true poetic transfiguration, which is another way I understand performance. However, embodiment presupposes an even more intimate coexistence, where one does not interpret but incarnates into a form of self that represents us, free from the constraints of genetics and universal entropy, from the needs and complaints of the physical body, into something else — what we call an Avatar.
Avakindness
Being an Avatar is not an inevitable process, and it’s certainly not easy. It requires predisposition, the ability to put one’s truest personality at stake, literally. It takes time and dedication. From experience, I can dispel the notion that embodiment causes a neurotic dissonance. While there are cases of digital bipolarism, they are rare, and experienced individuals can see and avoid them easily. Most of the time, embodiment is an activator of aptitudes, a trigger for individual creativity. We call this propensity Avakindness.
The Path to Avakindness
Now, to enjoy virtual, immersive, performative, and experiential experiences, Avakindness is not necessary. Most embodiments, due to technological and representational constraints of platforms, result in what I would call walkers, suitable for meeting the temporary needs of giving a vague, at most iconic, form to 90% of occasional users of virtual identities. For the educational purposes we need today, they work just fine. Even greater constraints are cultural, the distrust of innovation in general, and specifically anything concerning the body and its perceived sanctity, especially here in the West. But for those who seize the opportunity, Avakindness produces extraordinarily fruitful states of emotional alteration, allowing not only those with artistic talent to excel but helping us see inside ourselves from unusual perspectives. In my opinion, Avakindness is a true discipline that should be studied and codified. It has personally improved me. Give it a try and see for yourself.
NOTE: These reflections originate from my direct experience as an Avatar on the Path of Avakindness. They speak of the flesh, hands, feet, heart, and mind of a vanguard evolved in the metaverse, which rarely reveals itself. It’s better to remain silent, act, and live, rather than stubbornly trying to convince those who do not want to listen.
