The Virtual World

I'm skipping happily between two worlds, the world of virtual reality and the world with my footprints. Of course the virtual world only becomes relevant when we live for long periods of time on the ground. Without the ground there is no virtual world, unless we think of meditation or hallucinatory drugs as virtual fields of transcendence. There is something exciting about going to a different world, seeing who's there, seeing what they're saying and finding a voice, perhaps even our own voice. There are no parents to bother us, no teachers or cops. Well, there are virtual cops checking our data, patrolling. I suppose that's better than a guy following us as we pull out of the driveway and checking off the stores we go to, the clothes we buy, the places we eat.  And there are teachers in virtual reality, but, unlike school, we choose those teachers that are most appealing to us. Unfortunately, there is no fresh air in the virtual world, no breeze blowing through, stirring up the dead leaves, knocking off old branches, blowing empty cans down the highway. The virtual world feeds our private self, unencumbered by another voice, another critical mind. If we want to hate something, a country, a political or social platform,  an ethnic group, we can find websites and chat rooms that will encourage, validate and support our private view. There is no light in the virtual world. We can sit alone in the darkness of our habitat and stream the darkness of minds equally unenlightened. The virtual world buzzes; it just doesn't sing.