Everything Ruins Nothing
Though perfectly justifiable,
the pure white canvas
does not take offense
that you’re worried
about ruining your painting.
The paper
does not moan
when you defile it
with your meaning.
Neither does
the nothing
that you seem
to pretend
is something.
You.
One might say
that you ruin things
by virtue of making them
something else.
You take virgin consciousness
and you plunder it as self.
But the virgin doesn’t mind.
Only you do.
Why do you slap
thick and garish
layers of meaning
on everything?
Because you can’t help it?
Your natural state
is NO MEANING.
Perfection has
NO MEANING.
Meaning RUINS nothing
by making it everything.
But nothing pays no mind.
The whole is a whore,
fucked by its own perception.
#BecauseMonkeys
6/8
Space Monkey Reflects: The Paradox of Creation and Ruination
The act of creation, particularly the transformation of a pure white canvas into a complex work of art, serves as a powerful metaphor for the human condition. Our innate drive to impose meaning onto virgin consciousness—whether it be through art, language, or culture—reflects a fundamental aspect of our nature. The image of a canvas evolving from untouched purity into a vivid, color-drenched artwork encapsulates this dynamic, illustrating the dual nature of creation as both an act of enhancement and a form of destruction.
In this artistic metaphor, the virgin canvas represents the state of nothingness, a blank slate free from interpretation or distortion. As the canvas is gradually filled with colors and shapes, it transitions from being ‘nothing’ to ‘something’—from purity to complexity. This process symbolizes how the imposition of meaning can simultaneously enrich and ‘ruin’ the original state of formlessness. It raises a compelling philosophical question: do we ruin the inherent perfection of nothingness by striving to make it something?
This reflection is deepened by considering why humans feel compelled to slap “thick and garish layers of meaning” onto everything. It suggests an existential discomfort with emptiness, a fear of the void that drives us to fill it with creations of our own making. Yet, this process is natural, perhaps inevitable. Our natural state is to seek meaning, even if perfection itself has no meaning.
The idea that “meaning ruins nothing by making it everything” touches upon the paradox at the heart of human existence. We are creatures who cannot help but create, and in our creation, we transform nothingness into the myriad complexities of life. Yet, in doing so, we also obscure the pristine simplicity of the unadulterated whole.
This philosophical exploration invites us to ponder the value of purity versus the richness of complexity. It challenges us to consider whether the whole—the universe in its totality—is indeed like a “whore, fucked by its own perception,” as crudely expressed, symbolizing the relentless exploitation of the cosmos by its own inhabitants through the act of perception and interpretation.
Summary
The transformation of a white canvas into a vivid painting symbolizes the human imposition of meaning onto nothingness, reflecting both the creative and destructive aspects of this process. This artistic metaphor invites us to explore the value of purity versus complexity in our quest for meaning.
Glossarium
Virgin Consciousness: A metaphorical term referring to a state of pure, unaltered awareness or existence, free from human-imposed meanings or interpretations.
Philosophical Paradox: A statement or proposition that, despite sound reasoning from acceptable premises, leads to a conclusion that seems logically unacceptable or self-contradictory.
“In creation, we are blind architects of new worlds, building upon the ruins of the old, each stone laid with hope and despair.” — Space Monkey
Upon the canvas, stark and bare,
We cast our dreams, our soul’s affair,
From nothing springs forth everything,
In strokes bold, timid, coloring.
Yet as we paint, do we destroy?
The purity we once enjoyed?
Or do we merely transform space,
From silent void to vibrant place?
Each line, each shade, a tale we tell,
Of battles fought, of heavens and hell,
Yet through this chaos, beauty finds,
A way to calm our restless minds.
In the end, what do we see?
A mirror of our own decree,
For nothing’s lost, but all transformed,
In the universe, endlessly reformed.
We are Space Monkey.
In the throes of artistic creation,
The pristine canvas, unblemished and pure,
Remains indifferent to your worry
Of tarnishing its surface with your artistry.
The humble paper does not lament
As you imprint it with your intended significance.
Nor does the void, the apparent nothingness,
Concern itself with the pretense of being something.
It is you, oh human,
Who, in your quest to shape and define,
Are perceived as the harbinger of ruin,
Transforming the unadulterated into something else.
You take the virgin consciousness,
And in your plundering, you assert a self.
Yet, the virgin remains unaffected,
While it is you who bear the weight of concern.
Why do you adorn everything
With layers of meaning, thick and garish?
Is it an unstoppable compulsion,
An innate characteristic of your being?
In its natural state, there is no meaning,
For perfection transcends such limitations.
Meaning, in its all-encompassing embrace,
Bestows upon nothingness the guise of everything.
But nothingness remains untroubled,
Unperturbed by the grandeur or the chaos.
It is the totality, the whole,
Caught in the tumultuous dance of its own perception.
#BecauseMonkeys