Jules Does

From https://www.greeklegendsandmyths.com/polyphemus.html

In Book 6 of The Odyssey, the titular Odysseus and his men find themselves trapped in the cave of the barbaric, man-eating giant Cyclops Polyphemus. Faced with certain death, Odysseus brings out a skin full of wine which he serves to Polyphemus in order to lull him into a deep, drunken stupor. Significantly, Homer tells us that the wine was “unmixed” – the Greeks and, later, the Romans diluted their wine with water, honey, spices and other additives; to drink unadulterated wine was a sign of barbarism and monstrous appetites. Polyphemus drinks the wine, falls asleep, and in his moment of vulnerability is blinded by Odysseus and his men, who then hide themselves under Polyphemus’ sheep and leave the cave when the Cyclops rolls back the stone to let the animals out to graze.

Discussions around modern life so often feature musings on how the Internet has made all things accessible “at the click of a button” or the tap of a finger. We are more connected than ever before to the things that we want and to each other, but over and over again we hear about how lonely and isolated we all are, about the damaging effects of social media on mental health, especially that of young women, about our drift from “real life” into the online world. I’ve seen an increasing number of ad campaigns which urge consumers to get out into the real world, to go exploring, to experience life at a deeper level than is possible on the internet alone. A tourism advert for Vienna, for example, suggests that visitors see the real city “behind the hashtag”, implying that #vienna is a more superficial place than the living, breathing city and, furthermore, the online world (particularly social media) stands between us and the things we see, as clearly articulated in this ad. “Starting to dream in Instagram filters?” asks an advert for outdoor clothing supplier Berghaus. “Time to get out”. Again, we see the assessment of our social media lives as oppressive, disruptive and artificial and the presentation of travel or going outdoors as a corrective tonic.

The problem isn’t just that we are on social media, and it’s not just that we are on social media constantly spinning our lives to be our #bestlife, documenting how #blessed we are. Instagram posts on life’s difficulties also contribute to the problem.  In this iteration, being honest about the artificiality of one’s Instagram presence, occasionally showing life behind the curtain of airbrushing and perfect lighting, gives the impression of someone being “real”, meaning imperfect, meaning human. So often, however, these confessions of imperfection only form a further part of the illusion – revealing moments when you aren’t feeling especially #blessed only serves to make you seem more #grounded and #real, regardless of whether you actually are (think of all the expensive skin care that went into that apparently uncurated #nomakeup selfie). Besides, so often these posts attempt to convey to followers how things which seem like difficulties are actually #blessings, which just completes the social media Ouroboros. Even when you aren’t #blessed, you’re #blessed.

What does this have to do with an ancient blinded Cyclops, you may ask? It’s to do with balance. The thing that is missing from social media isn’t imperfection or even honesty. It’s balance. It is just as possible to post something upbeat on Facebook or Twitter as it is to post something slightly more introspective or even sad; what’s not possible is to post what is dull, mundane, ordinary, unremarkable. Unfortunately, the times you’re most likely to be scrolling through social media aren’t when you are out taking the pictures you later post. It’s when you’re bored, on the loo, maybe a bit sad at night or craving connection. However, when you reach out to the Internet, you don’t find people who are also bored or just getting through the day – you find people who are ON, sparkling, living their #bestlives, and it’s easy to feel that you are the only person who experiences mundanity, whose life isn’t a festival of perfectly curated recipes and washi tape and sparkling wine. Consuming this unmixed stream of apparent realness is making us miserable and lonely, isolated and yet constantly posturing; like Polyphemus, our lack of moderation will blind us.