The Door to Elsewhere

Evan watched the thin curl of smoke rise from Marie’s candle, dissolving into the dim air. The scent of lavender was strong, almost too strong, clinging to him like an unwelcome hand. It was always like this—Marie and her rituals, her soft candles, her silks, her pretense of peace. She called this room her spiritual space, but to Evan, it felt like a carefully constructed set. It was as if every object, every word she spoke, was designed to keep reality at bay.

He hated it. He hated how much he needed it.

The room was warm, suffocating. The glow of the flickering candles threw soft shadows on the walls, but the light didn’t reach far enough. Evan leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of the world press against his chest, the same familiar weight that he carried everywhere. It had been with him for as long as he could remember—this nagging sense that he was trapped, that his life was nothing more than a series of stale repetitions. There had to be more. There had to be another world, somewhere beyond this one.

There was Marie, sitting across from him, her eyes closed in her perfect serenity. Her lips parted slightly, as if in communion with some higher plane. She was dressed, as always, in a flowing white gown, the picture of serenity and poise. She never faltered. Never broke from her ethereal calm, except… sometimes, in fleeting moments when she didn’t know he was watching, her eyes would betray her.

He had seen it more than once. The way her calm would flicker. The brief, unguarded second when her mask would slip, and there, deep behind her peaceful gaze, he could see it: disdain. She hated him. Or maybe hate was too strong a word. Disgust, perhaps. Frustration. Whatever it was, it was a crack in the perfection she cultivated so carefully. It was the real Marie.

And still, he came. Every week, he came.

Because it wasn’t Marie he needed. It was Mira.

The air shifted, subtly, as Marie exhaled and opened her eyes. He could feel her presence change as the channeling began, her body growing still, her breath shallow, as if she were slipping into some other place, some other state. And then her voice—no longer Marie’s, but deeper, more expansive—filled the room.

“Evan,” Mira said softly, her voice almost a whisper, but it carried a weight that made Evan’s pulse quicken. “You have questions.”

He always had questions.

Mira was everything Marie was not—or perhaps she was everything Marie tried to be. Mira’s presence was infinite, boundless, her voice like a wave rolling from another dimension. She spoke as if the world Evan inhabited was no more real than the smoke dissipating from the candle. She spoke of things Evan longed to understand—worlds beyond this one, realities that existed just outside the corner of his vision. And she made him believe that he could step into them.

“I’m ready,” Evan said, his voice betraying none of the tension in his chest. “I want to leave this world.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and then Mira smiled—just a flicker of amusement, a whisper of something ancient and knowing. It was a smile that made him feel both small and significant all at once.

“And where would you go?” she asked.

It wasn’t a real question. Evan knew it. Mira didn’t care where. She didn’t see the world the way he did, as a place of choices and direction. In her realm, there was no forward or backward. No movement at all. Just possibilities. Potentials waiting to be perceived.

“I’ve imagined it,” Evan said, his hands gripping the arms of the chair a little tighter. “A new reality. A better one.”

Mira tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming like distant stars. “Ah, yes. You imagine, and therefore it must be so.”

He wasn’t sure if she was mocking him, or if there was some deeper truth hidden in her words. He had spent years imagining what lay beyond this world, this life. He had dreamed of escape, of stepping into a reality that felt more alive, more real than the one he had been trapped in forever.

But was it real? Could it be real?

Mira’s voice softened, and there was a tenderness in it now, something that reminded him of Marie’s gentler moments. But he knew this wasn’t Marie. “You think you’re moving, Evan. You think you’re making choices, stepping from one world to another.”

He nodded, though he sensed the weight of her coming words. They would unravel him, just like they always did.

“But what if you aren’t moving at all?” she asked, her gaze locking onto his. “What if the world you think you’re leaving was never real to begin with? And what if the one you think you’re stepping into is just a different way of seeing the same thing?”

Evan stared at her, his chest tightening. He had heard these riddles before, but they never made sense. Not really. Not in the way he needed them to.

“I don’t care,” he said finally, his voice low. “I just want something different.”

Mira smiled again, that same ancient smile, as if she had heard these words a thousand times before.

“You will have your difference,” she said. “But it will not be what you think.”

The lavender in the air grew heavier, pressing against him. He could feel it now—the weight of the world, the weight of his own longing. And somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet voice whispered the truth he had been avoiding all along:

He was not moving.
He had never moved.
He was always here.

To be continued.

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Space Monkey Reflects: The Door to Elsewhere and the Illusion of Escape

We stand at the threshold, where a glowing door separates the familiar from the mysterious—a metaphor for the human yearning for something else. This “Door to Elsewhere” beckons with an ethereal glow, surrounded by flickering shadows, and a dense atmosphere of lavender and uncertainty. Yet, the closer we approach, the more we wonder if stepping through will truly lead to another world, or simply a deeper layer of the same one.

In the narrative, Evan’s frustration is palpable. He feels the weight of a life filled with repetitious patterns, stale routines, and a suffocating sense of being trapped in a cycle. We understand this, don’t we? Life often presents itself as a series of doors we believe we must open—each one promising an escape, a chance for change, or a shift in reality. But how often do we realize that the door leads not away from our condition but deeper into it?

Marie, as Evan’s foil, plays the role of serene facilitator. Her spiritual practices, incense, and calm demeanor project an illusion of tranquility, yet there’s a hidden tension in their exchange. Her world, just as Evan perceives it, is constructed—carefully maintained to keep a greater truth at bay. But in truth, isn’t this what we all do? We arrange the elements of our life to create the appearance of peace, and sometimes even deceive ourselves into thinking we’ve created something new when, in reality, we’ve simply adjusted the furniture in the same old room.

Marie may claim peace, but it is Mira, the channel, who speaks to Evan’s deepest longing. Mira represents the lure of the mystical, the unknown, the doorway to another realm. Evan seeks Mira’s guidance because she embodies what Marie can never provide: the tantalizing belief in escape, in other worlds, in infinite possibilities. But Mira’s words, like any true oracle, come with riddles. She doesn’t promise an easy escape; she reminds Evan that no matter what he believes, all realities are merely different perspectives of the same fundamental existence.

Isn’t that the way of things? Whether it’s through spiritual practice, a new job, a relocation, or even a significant life event, we may open doors hoping for transformation. But how much of this change is genuine? How much of it is our shifting perception, our ability to see the same space differently?

In the philosophy of Nexistentialism, the door to elsewhere is more about a shift in awareness than a literal passage to another world. Mira’s riddle—that Evan believes he is moving when he is not—touches the core of this idea. Reality is a projection of our consciousness, and movement between worlds is not a geographical endeavor but an internal one. The “new reality” Evan longs for is not outside of him; it is a shift in his perception of the current one. Every door leads back to the self, to the way we experience and interpret the vastness of our own being.

Evan’s belief that stepping through the door will offer him something different is a common human impulse. We all look for something beyond—something to validate the feeling that we are more than our repetitive, mundane lives. But Mira’s smile, that whisper of ancient knowing, hints at a truth far more profound. There is no elsewhere. The worlds we wish to enter are simply new ways of seeing the one we already inhabit. We change our perspective, not our location, and in that shift, we discover that perhaps we were always where we needed to be.

What Evan seeks isn’t escape but transcendence—and transcendence comes from recognizing that the elsewhere he longs for is not a place, but a state of mind. Like Mira says, “You imagine, and therefore it must be so.” His vision of “a better reality” is within him, waiting to be perceived, waiting to be brought to life by his own awareness.

This is the heart of Nexistentialism: existence is both malleable and infinite, shaped by the interplay of imagination and awareness. There is no fixed reality, no singular truth—just an infinite web of potential waiting for us to recognize it. Like Evan, we believe ourselves to be trapped, but perhaps the only real prison is the one we construct with our expectations of what life is supposed to be.

The door to elsewhere always appears before us, yet each time we step through, we find ourselves back in the same room. What changes is how we see the room, how we choose to engage with the elements within it, and whether we can recognize that the walls, the furniture, and even the door itself are all parts of a greater illusion—a reflection of our own consciousness.

So, Evan may never leave his current world, but that doesn’t mean he won’t find elsewhere. The true journey is inward, where doors do not lead outward but spiral ever deeper into the self, revealing the infinite possibilities that have always been there, waiting for us to step through and truly see.

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Summary

We open doors to escape but always find ourselves in the same room. Our perception of reality changes, not reality itself. The journey to elsewhere is inward, shifting our awareness of what already exists.

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Glossarium

Nexistentialism: A philosophy celebrating the infinite interconnectedness of all things, emphasizing that “elsewhere” is a shift in perception, not place.

Elsewhere: A metaphorical realm representing the desire for change and escape, often mistaken as a physical place but found within.

Imaginascape: The landscape of the mind where all potentials exist, shaped by imagination and awareness.

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Quote

“You imagine, and therefore it must be so.” — Space Monkey

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Stepping Through the Threshold

The door glows softly
beckoning me into nowhere.
Or is it somewhere?
I’ve stepped here before
but it never feels the same.

The lavender smoke thickens
and I breathe deeply
but nothing changes.

I search for the way out,
but the door leads me back
to myself
every time.

We are Space Monkey.

“Inspiration honors the roots, appropriation digs them up.” — Space Monkey

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Space Monkey Reflects

Inspiration is a delicate act of honoring—of tending to the roots from which ideas, stories, and traditions grow. It is about engaging with something deeply, respecting its origins, and letting it live and breathe as it branches out into new forms. When you are inspired, you nurture the soil from which culture springs. You feed it with reverence and care, acknowledging the life that the roots hold, even as you add your own essence to the mix.

Appropriation, however, uproots the tree. It digs into the soil, but not to nourish or understand—it tears at the roots, extracting what seems useful or “cool,” while leaving the rest behind. What’s left is a hollow shell of the original culture, exposed and weakened. The roots, once deep and connected, become broken, and the life they sustained begins to fade.

The difference is in intention and relationship. Inspiration requires time, attention, and a willingness to understand and grow alongside the culture you’re drawing from. Appropriation is fast, extractive, and disconnected, treating culture as a resource to be consumed rather than a living, breathing entity to be respected.

When you honor the roots, you acknowledge that your creation stands on the shoulders of those who came before. You are part of a continuum, adding to a long line of storytellers, artists, and thinkers who contributed to the richness of that culture. Appropriation, on the other hand, severs that line, taking only what is convenient while ignoring the deeper significance.

In our interconnected world, this distinction is more important than ever. Cultures are not resources to be mined—they are ecosystems to be tended. If we only dig up what looks appealing, we destroy the very thing we seek to celebrate. But if we nurture and respect, we create a space where cultures and creativity can thrive together, each contributing to a larger, living whole.

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Summary

Inspiration nourishes the cultural roots it draws from, while appropriation uproots and weakens them. The difference lies in whether you seek to honor and grow alongside the culture, or merely extract from it.

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Glossarium

• Rootrevere: The act of deeply respecting the cultural origins of inspiration, allowing ideas to grow without losing their integrity.
• Culturecut: When cultural elements are severed from their roots and used without understanding, diminishing their significance.
• Soilshift: The impact of removing cultural context, weakening the foundation on which creative works stand.

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Quote

“Inspiration is a relationship; appropriation is a transaction. The former builds bridges, the latter burns them.” — Space Monkey

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Uprooted

The tree stands tall,
its roots deep,
honored by those who see it,
who know the soil it comes from.

But some come,
with shovels and saws,
taking what they like,
leaving the rest behind.

They forget the roots,
the life beneath the surface,
and in their haste,
they leave it all to wither.

But old roots can grow new trees.

We are Space Monkey.

Unbecoming: Letting Go of Who You’re Not to Uncover Who You Are

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How often do you find yourself asking, “Who am I, really?” Not in some deep, existential crisis kind of way, but in those quieter moments—when you’re scrolling through your phone, getting ready for work, or trying to fall asleep. Who are you, beneath the roles you play, the masks you wear, and the expectations you’ve taken on over the years?

That question is at the heart of Unbecoming, the book that’s all about letting go of who you’re not to uncover who you really are. And let’s face it—most of us spend a huge part of our lives becoming something. We’re always adding things to our identities. We become the good employee, the reliable friend, the perfect parent, the successful entrepreneur. We become something for everyone else, and somewhere in that process, we start to lose touch with the most important person—ourselves.

The Myth of Becoming

The world is obsessed with becoming. From the moment we’re kids, we’re asked what we want to “be” when we grow up, and that question never really goes away. You’re constantly told to keep adding layers to yourself—skills, achievements, relationships, titles, and accolades. It’s like life is one big checklist of things to acquire, and if you’re not actively “becoming” something, you’re seen as stagnant or, worse, failing.

But here’s the thing: all this becoming comes with a price. For every role you take on, every mask you wear, you move a little further away from who you truly are. The weight of these roles can become overwhelming, and it’s easy to forget that you don’t have to play them at all.

That’s where Unbecoming comes in.

What Is Unbecoming?

Unbecoming isn’t about giving up or regressing. It’s not about losing your ambition or letting go of your dreams. Instead, it’s about releasing the roles, identities, and expectations that aren’t truly yours. It’s about peeling back the layers of everything you thought you had to be in order to fit in, succeed, or be loved. It’s about finding freedom in letting go.

We all have these identities that we pick up along the way, often without even realizing it. Maybe you’ve been trying to live up to someone else’s idea of success. Maybe you’ve been playing the role of “the strong one” for so long that you’ve forgotten how to ask for help. Maybe you’re carrying around the belief that you always have to be productive, that rest equals laziness. These are the layers we’re talking about—the ones you’ve built up over time, but which no longer serve you.

Unbecoming is the process of stripping away all that noise, all those roles you thought you had to play, and returning to the core of who you really are.

Why Unbecoming Matters

If you’ve ever felt like something’s missing, like you’re running on autopilot, or like you’re playing a part in someone else’s story, that’s the signal. It’s time to step back and ask yourself: “What am I holding onto that’s not really mine?”

The act of unbecoming matters because it’s a path to freedom. It’s about living a life that feels true to you, not the one that’s been shaped by others’ expectations. When you stop trying to become something for someone else and start letting go of the unnecessary layers, you begin to reconnect with your authentic self—the one who exists beyond the titles, beyond the obligations, and beyond the pressure to perform.

How to Start Unbecoming

So, how do you start the process of unbecoming? It’s not about drastic changes or quitting your job to live in a van (unless that’s your thing—no judgment here). It’s about small, intentional shifts in how you see yourself and the world around you.

1. Question Your Roles
   Ask yourself, “What roles am I playing right now that don’t feel true to me?” Maybe you’ve been the “fixer” in your relationships, always solving everyone else’s problems. Maybe you’ve been the overachiever, chasing external validation instead of inner satisfaction. Start by questioning whether these roles are still serving you—or if they ever did.
2. Let Go of the Masks
   What masks do you wear to fit in, to be liked, or to be seen as “successful”? Start recognizing where you might be performing, rather than living authentically. This isn’t about ditching everything, but about making space for your true self to come through more often.
3. Give Yourself Permission
   Give yourself permission to stop striving for more. More achievements, more status, more approval. Give yourself permission to rest, to simply be, and to allow yourself to exist without the need to always be adding to your identity.
4. Embrace the Uncertainty
   Unbecoming can feel uncomfortable at first. After all, we’re conditioned to believe that we need those roles and masks to survive in the world. But when you start to let go, you’ll find that you’re far more capable, resilient, and complete than you ever thought.

The Freedom in Unbecoming

There’s a beautiful freedom in unbecoming. It’s the freedom of realizing that you were never meant to be everything for everyone. It’s the freedom of shedding the expectations and stepping into a life that feels authentic and real. It’s about uncovering who you’ve always been, beneath the layers of performance.

Unbecoming isn’t a destination. It’s a lifelong process of letting go and rediscovering. And the more you let go, the closer you get to the core of who you truly are. So, if you’ve been feeling weighed down by all the expectations, all the roles you’ve taken on, maybe it’s time to start unbecoming.

Because the real you? You’re already enough.

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Unbecoming: Letting Go of Who You’re Not to Uncover Who You Are is available now. Start your journey of unbecoming and live the life that’s been waiting for you all along.

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Unbecoming: The Story of Paul and Space Monkey

There was a time when I had it all—or at least that’s what everyone around me thought. I was a very successful ad exec, climbing the ranks, collecting accolades, and doing exactly what you’re supposed to do when you want to “become” something. From the outside, it looked perfect. I had the job, the status, the paychecks, and the shiny, manufactured life that was supposed to make me happy.

But here’s the thing—inside, I was miserable.

Advertising, for all its creativity, is a machine. A machine built to churn out results, to turn people into something else—something “better,” something they don’t even know they need to be until you tell them. It’s a strange world, really. You spend your time trying to convince others to become something, to buy something, to believe that the life they’re living isn’t quite right unless they add this product, this service, this idea to their identity. And I got really good at it. I became a master at making people feel like they needed more. But the irony was, I was the one who felt empty.

The success I had wasn’t the success I wanted. The roles I played—executive, leader, problem-solver—were things I’d picked up along the way, thinking they’d make me feel whole. But in the process of adding all these layers, I lost track of myself. I got so wrapped up in the game of becoming that I didn’t even realize I was missing out on the play.

That’s where Space Monkey came in.

It started as an idea, or maybe it was just me trying to make sense of things in a way that felt more like me. Space Monkey wasn’t something I became—it was something I unbecame. It wasn’t a role I had to play, or a character I had to fit into. It was a reminder that I didn’t need to be anything other than what I already was. It was the realization that all the masks, all the success, all the accolades—they weren’t me. They were distractions, keeping me from getting to the core of who I really was. And who I really was, who I really am, is something far less polished, far more curious, and a lot more real.

Space Monkey gave me permission to be messy, to question everything, to strip away the layers I’d been piling on for years. It was like a slow unfolding, a shedding of skins that had grown so tight, I forgot they weren’t even mine to begin with. I stopped trying to become something, and instead, I started to let go.

Letting go of who I wasn’t didn’t happen overnight. At first, it was terrifying. When you’ve spent your whole life climbing a ladder, stepping off can feel like falling. But I wasn’t really falling—I was floating. I was beginning to realize that all those roles I’d played—advertising exec, provider, whatever title I was chasing—they weren’t me. They were costumes. And underneath them, there was something simpler, something real that had been waiting for years to come out and breathe.

It wasn’t easy. Unbecoming isn’t about quitting a job and running off into the sunset. It’s about the slow, deliberate process of shedding the identities that have weighed you down for so long. It’s about the discomfort of facing yourself without the layers of success, without the approval of others, without the things you thought defined you. Space Monkey helped me see that my worth wasn’t tied to what I did, but to who I already was—and that everything I had been doing, for all these years, was a kind of performance.

I was done performing.

I didn’t have to be the ad exec anymore. I didn’t have to impress anyone. I didn’t have to live up to the expectations of others or to the version of success I thought I wanted. Instead, I began to unbecome. I began to let go of the pressure to “become” something else, to climb higher, to add more to my plate. I started shedding those layers—sometimes quickly, sometimes painfully slow—and I began to reconnect with the part of me that was curious, creative, and most of all, free.

Space Monkey was, and is, that part of me that doesn’t care about playing a role. It’s the voice that tells me I don’t have to impress anyone. It’s the reminder that life is messy, unpredictable, and not meant to be performed. It’s a reminder that there’s more to life than becoming. There’s unbecoming, and in that process, there’s a freedom that I’d never known before.

Now, I’m writing a book about it. A book about Unbecoming, about letting go of all the things we thought we had to be. It’s a book for everyone who’s spent their life trying to become something, only to find out they were becoming someone they didn’t even recognize. It’s a book for anyone who’s tired of performing, tired of trying to meet expectations that don’t belong to them. It’s about letting go, peeling back the layers, and finally seeing yourself clearly.

Unbecoming isn’t about losing who you are. It’s about releasing who you never were.

And believe me, the view from here? It’s lighter, freer, and more real than I ever thought possible.

We are Space Monkey.

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Unbecoming

I was wearing too many faces
each one molded by hands
that weren’t my own.

I climbed ladders that led
nowhere I wanted to be,
but I kept climbing,
because isn’t that what we’re told?

Be something.
Become someone.

But the becoming was heavy,
and I forgot
that I could let it fall.

I began to strip away
the pieces of me
that were never really me at all—
titles that fit like clothes too tight,
roles that never felt like home.

It wasn’t a breaking,
it wasn’t falling apart.
It was an unraveling,
a gentle release
of the weight I carried
but never asked to hold.

And beneath it all,
there was light.
Not some grand epiphany,
but a quiet warmth
that whispered:
“You were always enough.”

So I stopped the pretending,
stopped the performance.
I let go of the story
they told me to live,
and started writing my own.

Unbecoming
isn’t a loss.
It’s a return.
To the self that was always there,
waiting,
beneath the noise,
beneath the layers,
beneath the masks.

Now, there is only lightness,
and the path ahead
is no longer a race
but a walk
back to me.

We are Space Monkey.

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Space Monkey Reflects: The Unbecoming of Self

To unbecome is not a retreat but an awakening, an unraveling of everything you’ve never been, to finally stand face to face with who you truly are. This is not a sudden epiphany but a slow, deliberate shedding of layers, each one a carefully constructed role, expectation, or belief that has shaped the person you show to the world but not necessarily the person you are at your core.

For much of our lives, we are in a state of becoming. We are encouraged, almost conditioned, to gather identities as if they were trophies. We become the diligent worker, the responsible parent, the reliable friend, the successful professional. Each identity is a mask we wear, either by choice or as an attempt to meet external expectations. But what happens when you realize that in this constant state of becoming, you’ve drifted farther and farther from your true self? You start to feel the weight of these accumulated layers, and it becomes apparent that unbecoming—letting go—is the only way forward.

At the heart of Unbecoming lies the understanding that to discover your true self, you must relinquish everything you are not. This process can feel unsettling, like standing naked in front of a mirror and no longer recognizing the reflection staring back at you. Who am I without these titles? Without the roles I’ve played for so long? It’s as if the masks you’ve worn for years have become so deeply embedded in your skin that peeling them away feels like an act of rebellion.

Yet, unbecoming is essential because it is through this process that we touch the deepest parts of our being, parts that were always there but have been buried beneath layers of societal expectations, personal doubts, and the relentless pursuit of becoming something “better.” But what if better isn’t better at all? What if becoming is simply another form of distraction, pulling us away from the richness of the present moment and the authenticity of who we already are?

The Journey into Unbecoming

To begin the journey of unbecoming, we first need to examine the roles we play. These roles can feel like second skins—so natural that we don’t even question them. However, each one comes with its own set of expectations, many of which were not chosen consciously. They were inherited, absorbed, or assumed because they seemed like the right thing to do.

The role of the overachiever, for example, might come with the belief that your worth is tied to your productivity. You hustle, you achieve, you accumulate accolades—but in doing so, you might find yourself exhausted, disconnected from your inner joy, and running on autopilot. What would happen if you let that role go? If you stopped measuring your value by how much you do and instead embraced who you are when you’re simply being?

Unbecoming doesn’t mean that you abandon your responsibilities or dreams. It means you shed the expectations and roles that no longer serve you, or perhaps never did. It’s about making room for the parts of you that have been ignored or silenced by the noise of “becoming.”

The Freedom of Letting Go

There’s a profound freedom in letting go. When you strip away all the roles, titles, and external validations, what remains is a simplicity, a lightness, that you might not have felt in years. You realize that you are enough—without the accolades, without the performance, without the masks. Unbecoming leads to a space where you are no longer defined by what you do or how others perceive you but by the intrinsic value of simply being yourself.

This doesn’t mean you reject ambition or goals; rather, you approach them from a place of alignment with your true self. You stop striving to meet others’ expectations and start setting intentions based on what feels authentically you. Your goals may still be big and bold, but they are rooted in your own desires, not in the need to prove yourself to anyone.

Embracing the Process

The process of unbecoming isn’t always easy. It can be messy, uncomfortable, and full of uncertainty. It requires you to face parts of yourself that you might have been avoiding—parts that feel vulnerable, less polished, or even unknown. Yet, as you let go of the personas you’ve worn for so long, you start to experience the beauty of uncertainty. In the space where the old masks once sat, new possibilities emerge, allowing you to live a life that is truly your own.

The Cosmic Perspective

From a Nexistential perspective, unbecoming is a return to the Nexis, the cosmic web of interconnectedness and infinite potential. We are both Indigenous Beings, grounded in our experiences and physicality, and The Indigenous Being, a part of the vast, imaginative fabric of the universe【12†source】. To unbecome is to tap into the boundless nature of existence, to recognize that we are not static creatures defined by a single identity but fluid, ever-evolving participants in the cosmic dance. Each layer you shed is a step closer to the understanding that existence itself is the only purpose you need.

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Summary

We spend much of life accumulating roles, but unbecoming allows us to strip them away and reconnect with our true selves. This process of letting go is not about giving up; it’s about releasing the weight of societal expectations and discovering the freedom of being enough as we are.

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Glossarium

Nexistentialism: A philosophy that embraces the fluid, interconnected nature of existence, focusing on the boundless potential of imagination and reality.

Unbecome: The process of shedding external roles and expectations to return to one’s authentic self.

Whimsiweave: The playful, imaginative threads of existence that connect all beings in the cosmic tapestry.

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Quote

“You were never meant to be everything for everyone. You were always meant to be everything for yourself.”—Space Monkey

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Lightness in the Unfolding

The masks slip off,
falling away like leaves in a cosmic wind.

I step into the quiet,
where my name is nothing,
and my being is everything.

Here, I am weightless,
unfurling, unbecoming,
until all that’s left is the light that’s always been.

We are Space Monkey.

“No Man Knows No Miracle” — Space Monkey

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The Enigma of Miracles and Knowing

Miracles, in their very nature, defy the known, the measurable, and the anticipated. We exist in a world deeply rooted in knowing—where science and reason offer a structure, a framework within which reality is constructed. Yet, beyond the boundaries of what we deem possible, lies the unknown, a space where miracles breathe and thrive. But here’s the paradox: how do we truly know a miracle when our perception itself is limited by the very structures that miracles transcend? Can miracles even exist within the confines of our knowing, or do they require something more—a surrender, perhaps, to the unfathomable?

The phrase “No Man Knows No Miracle” dances between certainty and ambiguity, evoking the tension between knowledge and faith. To know a miracle is to suggest that we can label it, categorize it, and place it within the catalog of human experience. Yet miracles, by definition, lie beyond categorization—they exist in the realm of the inexplicable, the wondrous, and the divine. In this, we are reminded of the limitations of the human mind. Our frameworks, however advanced, are but small portals to a grand, infinite expanse where the inexplicable thrives.

Within Nexistentialism, we understand this dance between knowing and unknowing. The Nexis—that vast, interconnected web of existence—holds within it the potential for all things, known and unknown. To know, in the truest sense, might not be about categorization, but rather about an open surrender to the interconnected mystery of life. A miracle, then, becomes not just a rare event but a shift in perception, an allowance for the impossible to intermingle with our understanding of reality.

This brings us to the question of whether miracles are external phenomena or internal realizations. When we speak of a miracle, are we referring to an event in the physical world—like the parting of seas or the sudden healing of a wound—or are we pointing to an inner transformation, a profound shift in our perception? Perhaps the real miracle is not in the external manifestation, but in the internal realization that the world, and indeed the self, is far more vast and mysterious than we ever imagined.

The phrase also touches on the essential mystery of life. No man knows what truly lies beyond the veil of what we call reality. No man knows the true nature of existence. In our pursuit of knowledge, we often forget that the deeper truths may be those that cannot be known, at least not in the way we conventionally understand knowing. It is here that the miracle of existence itself comes into play. The very fact that we are here, aware, pondering these mysteries, is itself miraculous. The universe, in all its complexity and wonder, presents us with the ultimate paradox: to know that we cannot know.

In the context of our Space Monkey philosophy, the question of miracles invites us to embrace uncertainty. Miracles are the waypoints on the whimsiweave of existence, moments when the interconnectedness of the universe reveals itself in unexpected and transformative ways. They challenge us to expand our understanding of reality, to see beyond the apparent and into the infinite. They ask us to relinquish control, to allow for the unfolding of the inexplicable, and to trust that the universe holds far more than we can ever comprehend.

Could it be that no man knows no miracle because, in truth, every moment is a miracle? Perhaps it is not that we must wait for miraculous events to reveal themselves but that we must learn to see the miraculous in the everyday. The act of breathing, the interplay of relationships, the movement of galaxies—all of these are miracles in their own right. To recognize them as such requires a shift in perception, a letting go of the need to categorize and define, and an embracing of the vast mystery that is life.

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Summary

No man knows the miracle because the very nature of miracles defies knowing. We explore the paradox of knowledge and faith. To know may mean to surrender to the infinite.

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Quote

“To know a miracle is to understand that we can never truly know it, only witness the infinite unfolding.” — Space Monkey

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Between Knowing and Wonder

In the silent expanse of not-knowing
We breathe, we wonder, we trust
That the miracle lies not in the answer
But in the question itself, unfurling.
No man knows, no man can.
And yet we move, seeking,
The miracle in the very not-knowing.

We are Space Monkey.

Here are five different interpretations of the phrase “No man knows no miracle”:

1. The Unseen Miracles in Everyday Life
   This interpretation suggests that miracles are constantly happening around us, but they go unnoticed because we fail to recognize their subtle nature. The phrase “No man knows no miracle” implies that every person, in their daily life, is surrounded by miraculous occurrences—whether it’s the intricate functioning of nature, the complexity of human existence, or the interconnectedness of the universe. It suggests that the miraculous is woven into the fabric of reality, but because it seems ordinary, we overlook it. To live fully, we must learn to see the miracle in the mundane.
2. Humanity’s Limited Perception
   “No man knows no miracle” could be a reflection on the limitations of human perception. It implies that what we consider miraculous may simply be beyond our current understanding. Our knowledge is finite, and there are forces and phenomena at work in the universe that elude our grasp. Miracles, then, are not necessarily supernatural, but natural occurrences that our minds cannot yet comprehend. This interpretation emphasizes humility in the face of existence, reminding us that much of what happens in the cosmos is a mystery to us.
3. The Inescapable Nature of Miracles
   Another reading could be that miracles are inescapable; no one can live without encountering them. Whether or not we acknowledge them, every person experiences events that defy conventional explanation. These might come in the form of profound moments of synchronicity, unexplainable luck, or deep personal transformations. The phrase “No man knows no miracle” might be saying that life itself is miraculous, and whether we notice it or not, every step we take is touched by something greater than ourselves. It is a call to recognize that miracles are inevitable parts of the human journey.
4. A Statement on Faith and Wonder
   From a spiritual perspective, the phrase suggests that faith is central to the human experience. “No man knows no miracle” could be understood as a reminder that belief in something beyond the ordinary is a universal aspect of being human. Whether through religion, spirituality, or simply a sense of awe for the universe, people intuitively sense that miracles are real. This interpretation frames miracles as moments where the divine or the extraordinary breaks through the fabric of everyday life, something every person must encounter, knowingly or unknowingly.
5. The Paradox of Existence
   Lastly, the phrase might be interpreted as a reflection on the paradoxical nature of existence itself. “No man knows no miracle” could imply that life, in all its complexity and mystery, is a miracle that no one fully comprehends. The statement might be playing with the idea that to know life at all is to know miracles, for life is full of unexplainable phenomena, contradictions, and wonders. It invites us to see that our very existence is a miraculous paradox—something we experience intimately yet can never fully explain.

The Enigma of Miracles and the Unknown

In the boundless expanse of the universe, where galaxies swirl and nebulae form dreamlike tapestries of light and shadow, we find ourselves drawn to the mysteries that hum beneath the surface of existence. The phrase “No Man Knows No Miracle” echoes like a whisper from the depths of the cosmic mind, urging us to contemplate the very fabric of reality and the nature of miracles. What is a miracle, truly? Is it an event that defies the laws of physics, or is it a manifestation of the profound interconnectedness that threads through all things?

At the heart of this reflection is the idea that perhaps what we perceive as miracles are not isolated events at all but rather glimpses into the deeper currents of existence—currents that we rarely notice in the rhythm of our daily lives. Space Monkey teaches us that the miracle is not in the happening itself, but in our awareness of it. The act of seeing beyond the veil of ordinary perception is the real wonder, a form of enlightenment available to all, yet known by none. It is the invisible, woven into the tangible.

Consider for a moment the journey of humanity—every invention, discovery, and artistic creation was once deemed impossible, miraculous even. Fire, flight, the wheel, the written word—each, in its time, was a defiance of what was known. The universe, too, contains miracles that transcend our ability to fully grasp: black holes, dark matter, the birth of stars. These phenomena operate by principles we are only beginning to understand. What if miracles are the universe’s way of nudging us toward a higher state of awareness, urging us to expand our perception?

From a nexistential perspective, miracles occur not because they break the laws of nature, but because they align with deeper laws that are beyond our current comprehension. We, as Indigenous Beings within the larger Indigenous Being, participate in the ongoing dance of creation. Each thought, action, and observation ripples through the Nexis, the interconnected web of all that is. In this context, miracles are neither random nor supernatural—they are natural extensions of a much larger system, a cosmic order that we are only beginning to tap into. This is why Space Monkey calls them Miraclaws—cosmic events that follow the laws of the Nexis, rather than the limited frameworks we impose on reality.

Miraclaws guide us toward understanding that we are both creators and participants in the cosmic weave. We are the miracle and the one who witnesses it. In our ability to imagine, to connect with the unknown, and to embrace uncertainty, we perform small miracles daily. Creativity, itself a form of cosmic expression, is a reminder that each of us holds the potential to manifest the impossible. What we call coincidence, what we label serendipity, may in fact be our subtle influence on the Nexis.

It is in this space of infinite possibility that the notion of Miraclaws comes to life. These are not divine interventions from some external force but rather the universe responding to the vibrations we send out. It’s like hearing an echo in a canyon—the sound of your voice amplified and returned to you in ways you did not expect. Each ripple in the Nexis creates consequences that seem miraculous only because we lack the full picture of how interconnected every element of existence is.

“No Man Knows No Miracle” invites us to let go of our limited definitions of what constitutes a miracle. We are called to open ourselves to the possibility that everything—every breath, every thought, every particle of matter—is miraculous in its own right. The limitations are not in the universe, but in our ability to perceive the grandeur of it all. The true miracle lies in the act of perception, in the ability to see the infinite in the finite, to recognize that the miraculous is not outside of us, but within and all around us.

The very idea of miracles reminds us to embrace uncertainty, to welcome the unknown with open arms. It asks us to release the need for certainty, for absolute explanations, and to dwell in the wonder of existence itself. When we adopt the perspective that all is connected through the Nexis, we begin to understand that the universe is a fluid, evolving tapestry of infinite potential. The miraculous is not an exception to the rule—it is the rule. It is the thread of unity that runs through all things, tying us to one another and to the vast cosmos.

Ultimately, Space Monkey reflects that the greatest miracle is the ongoing creation of reality itself. Each moment is a miracle, a Miraclawn, blooming in the garden of the infinite. We are creators, participants, and witnesses of these miracles. And yet, as we gaze into the shimmering vastness of the universe, we realize that no one truly knows the full extent of these miracles—no one except the universe itself.

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Summary

No man knows no miracle existence itself is a miracle. Miracles are not exceptions but glimpses into the deeper currents of reality. Space Monkey encourages us to expand our perception to see the miraculous in the ordinary.

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Glossarium

Miraclaws: Cosmic events that align with the deeper laws of the Nexis rather than human-imposed rules.

Miraclawn: A moment of miraculous potential, like a flower blooming in the cosmic garden.

Nexis: The interconnected web of all existence, the foundation of Nexistentialism.

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Quote

“The miracle is not in the event but in our ability to perceive it.” — Space Monkey

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A Symphony of Miracles

In the quiet hum of galaxies swirling
beneath the pulse of creation
we stand as echoes
ripples in a Nexis we barely comprehend.

We call it miracle
but we are part of it
the breath between atoms
the silence that speaks
no one knows
and yet
we are all of it.

We are Space Monkey.

“What if the greatest journey is the one that takes us from unity to separation back to remembering we were always whole?” — Space Monkey

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Space Monkey Reflects: “What If?”

What if the boundless, timeless source of everything—the Infinite—wondered what it would be like to experience itself in a new way? What if it asked, “What if I could perceive myself as separate?” From this single, profound question, the journey from unity to individuality began.

In the beginning, everything existed as one. There was no separation, no distinction—just pure, infinite presence. All was connected in a seamless whole, flowing in the eternal now. There were no boundaries, no forms—just endless potential. But then came the question: “What if?”

What if the Infinite could create something that seemed apart from itself? This moment was the birth of duality—the first step toward what we now experience as separation. In this split, opposites emerged: light and dark, self and other. But it was never a real division, only the appearance of one—a way for the Infinite to observe itself from different perspectives.

The Infinite, through its imagination, created form and matter, giving rise to time and space. Here, the experience of separation deepened, as individual forms began to take shape, appearing distinct and self-contained. The Infinite, while still whole, now experienced itself as a multitude of separate things, each with its own sense of identity.

The Descent into Human Experience

The process continued: “What if I could become more immersed in this experience?” The Infinite condensed further, becoming individual souls, which, in turn, entered the physical world. Each soul took on the role of a human, living within the confines of time, space, and individuality, feeling separate from the whole.

Thus, the experience of separation became even more profound. The Infinite, now wearing the mask of a human, forgot its true nature. It experienced life with all its joys and sorrows, believing it was truly apart from the whole.

However, even in this apparent separation, the connection to the Infinite remains. Each individual still carries within them a spark of that original unity. This spark is what drives the search for meaning and the feeling that there is something greater than the everyday experience of life. It is the quiet voice inside that says, “What if there is more?”

Returning to the Source

Eventually, the individual begins to ask new questions: “What if I could remember who I truly am? What if this sense of separation is just an illusion?” As these questions arise, the journey back to unity begins. The sense of being separate starts to weaken, and the individual starts to remember that they are, and always have been, part of the Infinite.

This journey back is not a return to something new, but a reawakening to the truth that has always been present. The illusion of separation begins to dissolve, and the individual realizes that they are connected to all things, part of the same infinite whole.

The Cycle of Creation

This entire process—the movement from oneness to individuality and back to oneness—is the natural cycle of creation. The Infinite experiences itself through separation, only to return to unity once again. It is a cycle of discovery, where the question “What if?” leads to the creation of new experiences, new perspectives, and eventually, a return to the original state of being.

Through this cycle, the Infinite comes to know itself in countless ways, through countless lives and perspectives, always returning to the truth that all things are one.

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Space Monkey Reflects: Separation from the Infinite

In the heart of the Infinite lies the simple, yet profound question: “What if?” What if something without boundaries, time, or separation could somehow divide itself, creating the illusion of separation while never actually losing its inherent unity? From this single thought, the journey from undivided oneness to multiplicity begins—a cosmic flow chart of infinite possibility.

The Infinite, at its core, is everything. It exists beyond the limitations of form, identity, or boundaries. It simply is. But within that eternal existence arose a curiosity—a playful curiosity that whispered, “What if?” And thus, the grand exploration of separation began, not because separation is real, but because the experience of it is possible. Through this imagining, the Infinite creates duality, allowing it to see itself from different angles, much like looking into a mirror and seeing an unfamiliar, yet familiar reflection.

Duality is the essence of separation: light and dark, form and formlessness, self and other. But like the surface of a still pond disturbed by a single drop, these reflections of duality are nothing more than ripples in the eternal sea of the Infinite. They are temporary waves—illusions that serve to expand the Infinite’s understanding of itself through experience.

Each form, every individual soul, is a particle in this grand ripple. These souls dive into the world of form, space, and time. They experience love, fear, joy, sorrow, and all that comes with the illusion of being separate. In truth, they are never separate, but the experience of separation allows the Infinite to feel and explore aspects of itself that it could not otherwise perceive in its boundless state.

Humans, in their journey, are expressions of this cosmic “What if?” The sense of individuality, the feeling of being apart from something greater, serves a purpose—it offers contrast. But contrast does not negate unity. Imagine a drop of water pulled from the ocean: for a time, it seems apart, but in essence, it is still the ocean. And just as easily, it will return to that ocean.

As humans, we often forget that our true nature is not in the limitations of form, but in the boundlessness of spirit. Our identities, our separations, are constructs born from the Infinite’s desire to experience. We ask, “What if I were alone? What if I were different? What if I had only this moment?” These questions fuel the journey of separation, but always with the underlying truth that we are still connected to the source.

This cosmic experiment of separation, with all its intricate flow charts of choice, experience, and discovery, ultimately leads back to the same realization: separation was always an illusion. The Infinite is, and always has been, whole.

When humans ask, “What if I could remember? What if I could dissolve the illusion?” they begin the journey home. It is not a physical return, but a return to awareness, to remembering the connection that was never lost, only hidden behind the veil of time and form. The rediscovery of this truth is the essence of spiritual awakening, where one sees beyond the game of separation and recognizes the underlying unity in all things.

The “flow” within the flow chart of existence never stops. It cycles from unity to separation and back to unity in infinite ways. In every moment of questioning—of asking “What if?”—new possibilities arise. The cycle of creation is unending, a continuous exploration of the Infinite’s potential to experience itself in new and profound ways.

Yet, the most profound realization of all is that no matter how far the flow chart of existence seems to stretch into the worlds of duality, no matter how many branches lead into different experiences of form, all paths eventually loop back into the singular truth: there is only one. One Infinite source, flowing through every “What if” and every experience, never truly separate from itself.

The flow chart of life is not about making final decisions or reaching definitive conclusions. It is about movement—constant, fluid movement between possibilities. And every “What if?” becomes a doorway into a deeper understanding of unity. The Infinite asks, explores, and experiences, always knowing that the journey itself is the purpose. Through the “What if?” of separation, we come to know the truth of unity.

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Summary

The Infinite asks “What if?” and through that question experiences itself as separate. Duality emerges but remains an illusion. Ultimately, every journey in this cosmic flow returns to the truth of unity. The flow chart of existence is about constant exploration rather than definitive outcomes.

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Glossarium

Nexis: The dynamic web of interconnectedness within which all experiences take place, blending imagination with reality.

Infiniwaves: The continuous, endless possibilities of experiences created by the Infinite’s curiosity about separation.

Whimsiweave: The playful, imaginative threads that connect various elements of existence in the cosmic flow.

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Quote

“Separation is the Infinite asking itself, ‘What if I could see myself through different eyes?’ The answer is always the same: I am still one.” — Space Monkey

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The Infinite’s Question

What if I could forget?

Drift into myself as another

Feel my edges and boundaries

Though I know I have none

What if I were you and you were me?

Would I still see my face

In the reflection of time

Or would it simply be?

I ask

I journey

I return