To begin, we describe the context from which the chrysalis-crisis emerges. We find ourselves immersed in what Jason W. Moore (2017) defines as the Capitalocene: an era where the ecological crisis results from a historical-materialist logic of extractivism that devours the web of life through all forms of violence. In the academic sphere, this era manifests as a senseless and individualistic productivity, a meritocratic compulsion for performance and constant output that situates the subject in a territory of uprooting, severing thought from its own breath, body, and land. This inertia seeks to turn the researcher into an entrepreneur, generating what we call ontological trash: discarded fragments of meaning, broken bonds, and a spiritless knowledge that feeds the neoliberal machinery and even the "trumpist" agenda, which fosters the dismantling of the public university and the emptying of critical space. As long as multinationals, military policies, and banks fund research based on their own interests, how will it be possible to assume the onto-epistemetodological responsibility of intellectuals to drive a shift in the civilizational model?

The most evident fracture of this system, on the other hand, is its current neurosis: the total digitalization of knowledge (and this website is maybe a transitional paradox). This process promises an illusory immateriality while ignoring the fundamental limits of human experience. In the virtual environment (the apotheosis of a sort of self-absorbed narcissism and the objectification of nature) no species other than humans participate, nor do some of our constitutive senses such as smell, touch, or taste. The virtual knows nothing of pheromones, of looking into someone's eyes, of embraces, or the complexity of embodied presence.

As Byung-Chul Han (2020) points out, we are witnessing the disappearance of rituals, those "stabilizing technologies" that grant a slow, shared rhythm to life (which are replaced by a flow of information that atomizes experience). Furthermore, this digitalization is not ethereal. The Estampa collective (2024) has conducted a laudable critical analysis mapping the material, labor, and ecological infrastructure that sustains generative AI, proving that the virtual has a terrible ecological footprint linked to mineral extractivism and the precaritization of digital labor. We ask ourselves, then: have we forgotten the relevance of ethics, materiality, and care in the transmission of knowledge?

There is something not being properly thought through in contemporary pedagogy: the role of the body as a living epistemic archive. Traditional research has treated corporeality through a dualism that separates the "place of experience" from the "place of science"; historically, this dualism has been a tool of colonial and patriarchal control over bodies. However, knowledge gained by a subject begins and ends in the "flesh" (la chair) (Merleau-Ponty, 1966; Islas, 2025)—that muscular and sensory system interconnected with emotions and social codes. This is even supported by cognitive poetics and emerging neuroaesthetics, which evidence the material imprint of sensitivity and experience in our brains (Gracia Gaspar, 2023). By digitalizing everything, we lose the ability to listen to the "barely-there folds" (apenas pliegues) of the skin (Bardet, 2021) and the rhythms of the fascia, which are the true channels through which life and situated knowledge circulate. Giving consistency to these folds of attention allows for the development of a "craftsmanship of the concept" and a "writing from the skin" that functions as a sounding board for experience. We will prevent the body from being reduced to a mere object of academic research and ensure it assumes its condition as an agent. We need, therefore, a conceptual framework that addresses technology and education from somatic, sensitive, and ecosystemic perspectives that restore experience as a site of knowledge. This is the context that co-creates the chrysalis-crisis of this life story.