Faces In Rectangles

I was on a Zoom call today with about 170 other human beings. Patricia Albere was introducing the work of the Evolutionary Collective to the folks who were new. She points to the evolving of consciousness from individual concern (How can I be a better person?) to a “We-Space” (a deep connection that’s available between us).

A few quotes:

Separation is the real global pandemic.

Communicating across the distance between us is exhausting. [But true contact is liberating.]

There’s the possibility of a shared circuitry between us that we’re orchestrated by.

Something else [beyond the individual] is being given.

I was letting Patricia’s words sink in, without having to make sense of them. There’s something new that can bring us together in love. Any two people. Romantic or otherwise. Actually, any three, four or five people.

As my eyes softened, they took in my laptop screen. It was full of humans – 48 of them in their individual rectangles. But the lines were blurring between the faces. There was a joining at work here.

A click showed me 48 new faces. And then page three – a few folks here didn’t have their videos on. Page four merely showed names – no alive beings.

Spread before me were perhaps 130 people from the corners of the world. Different rooms, different clothing … races, ages, personalities. An infinite variety of us. Some faces glowed. Some leaned forward. Some seemed “flat”, not engaged. A few folks clicked the “Raise Hand” button because they had something to ask or share.

I was in awe of the display. The collective smiles when someone said something funny. The unease when Patricia talked too long at a stretch. I was in the presence of my brothers and sisters, and I wanted more. I tried to will the blank rectangles into life – to transform a name into living flesh – but that didn’t happen.

Oh, the power of us together. We didn’t know each other, in terms of being familiar with our lives, but as the time flowed on, there was a knowing. I looked into eyes and saw common joys and sorrows … a sharing.

You’re so different than me
And you’re just like me

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