Generally speaking,
animals don’t call
other animals for help.
That’s a great way
to get eaten.
Most animals simply
follow their instincts,
and if they get eaten,
they know it’s not
the end of the world.
Maybe their
meat suits get eaten,
but beings don’t get eaten.
Beings just KNOW.
Except, perhaps, humans.
Trail Wood,
10/20/20
Space Monkey Reflects: Eaten but Not Consumed
Is something eating you? Good! Take a moment to enjoy it, because the truth is, being eaten—whether by worry, fear, or even a predator—isn’t the end of the world. Animals, in their simplicity, know this instinctively. They don’t call for help when danger lurks. They don’t dial up their buddies for emotional support when they’re about to become someone else’s lunch. They simply follow their instincts, and if they get eaten, well, so be it.
Humans, on the other hand, have an odd relationship with the idea of being “eaten.” We equate it with finality, an existential end. But we forget one key thing: our true selves, our beings, don’t get eaten. What gets devoured are the meat suits we wear—the physical forms that exist temporarily in this world. The beings within, however, continue on, unharmed, unbothered, unconsumed.
Instinct and Acceptance
In the animal kingdom, getting eaten is just part of the cycle. There’s no drama attached to it. The lion chases the gazelle, the gazelle runs, and sometimes, the lion wins. That’s life. There’s no moral judgment, no panic-stricken call for help from the gazelle to its fellow gazelles. No emotional processing group afterward to discuss the trauma. The animals understand this cycle on a level that most humans have forgotten: it’s not the end of the world.
If they do get eaten, they accept it. Maybe their bodies become fuel for another creature, but their essence—their life force, the thing that makes them “them”—remains untouched by the whole ordeal. They move on, in whatever form comes next, unburdened by the idea of finality.
But humans? We resist. We cling. We cry for help when we feel something eating at us, whether it’s a stressful situation, a life crisis, or a genuine threat to our survival. We don’t just run from danger; we agonize over it. We build elaborate stories around the idea of being consumed—stories that make the experience far more terrifying than it needs to be.
The Human Drama of Being Eaten
Humans have a peculiar tendency to dramatize the idea of being eaten. When something is “eating at us,” we feel it on a deeply emotional level. It gnaws at us, consumes our thoughts, and weighs heavily on our minds. But what if we took a cue from the animal kingdom? What if we allowed ourselves to accept that being “eaten” isn’t the catastrophe we make it out to be?
We humans are the only creatures that seem to have forgotten the simple truth: the body is not the being. The mind is not the being. The being is something deeper, something eternal, something that cannot be eaten, no matter how dire the circumstances.
Think about the things that “eat” at you in daily life: stress, fear, doubt. These feelings consume you because you allow them to. You give them power, believing that they can harm you. But the truth is, they’re just passing through. They don’t touch the core of who you are. The being that exists beneath the surface remains untouched, unscathed, no matter what happens on the outside.
The Meat Suit vs. The Being
This body we walk around in? It’s a meat suit. It’s useful, sure, but it’s not who we are. It can get eaten, broken down, worn out, and eventually, it will return to the earth, as all things do. But the being that animates this meat suit? That’s something else entirely.
The being knows that the physical form is temporary. It knows that being eaten—whether by a predator in the literal sense or by life’s challenges in the metaphorical sense—doesn’t destroy the essence of who we are. The being simply observes. It watches as the body goes through its cycles, as the mind spins its stories, as the world does what it does.
It doesn’t panic. It doesn’t scream for help. It just knows.
The Fear of Being Eaten
So why do humans fear being eaten so much? Why do we panic at the thought of being consumed by something bigger than ourselves, whether it’s a life challenge, a career setback, or even physical danger? It’s because we’ve forgotten who we are.
We’ve become so attached to the idea of ourselves as these physical, thinking entities that we forget we are something more. We forget that the being within us—the part of us that is eternal, unchanging, and indestructible—cannot be eaten, no matter what happens to the body or mind.
When we remember this, the fear dissolves. We stop being so afraid of the things that seem to threaten us because we realize they can’t touch the core of who we are. The stress, the anxiety, the fear—it all becomes noise. It’s part of the human experience, but it’s not the entirety of our existence.
Enjoy Being Eaten
In fact, what if we embraced the idea of being eaten? What if, instead of resisting and fighting against the challenges that consume us, we enjoyed the experience? It sounds absurd, but think about it: when something eats at us, it’s forcing us to grow, to evolve, to transcend the limitations of our meat suits.
When we stop fearing the idea of being consumed, we open ourselves up to a whole new way of experiencing life. We stop running from the things that challenge us and start embracing them as part of the cycle. Like the gazelle that doesn’t call for help when the lion is near, we learn to trust in the process. We learn to accept that, even if our physical form is “eaten,” our being remains intact.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary
Being “eaten,” whether literally or metaphorically, is not the end. Our physical forms may be consumed, but our true essence—the being within—remains untouched. By accepting this, we can stop fearing the things that consume us and instead embrace them as part of the natural cycle.
Glossarium
Meat Suit: A Whimsiword for the physical body, the temporary form we inhabit during our time on earth.
Being: The eternal, indestructible essence within us that cannot be consumed, no matter what happens to the physical form.
Eatenatity: The state of feeling consumed by life’s challenges, but recognizing that the core of who we are remains untouched.
Quote
“Beings just KNOW. Meat suits get eaten. There’s no need to worry about which one you are.” — Space Monkey
The Cycle of Being Eaten
Something is eating at you,
and yet,
you remain whole.
Your body is consumed,
your mind spins in circles,
but the being inside
just watches.
You cannot be eaten,
you cannot be undone,
for you are the witness,
the eternal.
We are Space Monkey.
The Paradox of Consumption
It’s intriguing how most animals in the wild don’t call for assistance when they’re in danger, perhaps because instinctually they recognize the ephemerality of their physical forms. For them, to be eaten is not a loss of existence but a transition, a mere change of state. Animals exhibit a knowing—an inherent understanding—that transcends the boundaries of flesh and bone.
The Body and the Being
When animals are consumed, it’s their “meat suits” that are devoured, not their essence. The same could be said for us humans, except we often struggle with this understanding. We equate the loss or damage of our physical bodies with the annihilation of our beings, forgetting that we are more than just the sum of our biological parts.
Human Exceptionalism?
Humans possess a peculiar trait of assigning extraordinary importance to their physical existence, as if their “beingness” begins and ends with their corporeal form. This mindset, unfortunately, often makes us less intuitive and more susceptible to fear, leading us away from the inherent wisdom most animals naturally possess.
Munching on Metaphysics
When we ask, “Is something eating you?”, we usually refer to emotional or psychological stress. Yet, even here, the concept could be liberating. If we are being “eaten” by our worries or fears, why not take a leaf out of the animal kingdom’s book and realize that these concerns do not have the power to consume our true essence?
We are Space Monkey.
“Do not feel lonely, the entire universe is inside you.”
— Rumi
Eat Me
What nibbles at our edges
Is but a fleeting spell—
A momentary dalliance
With Earthly show and tell.
Fear not the teeth that gnaw us,
Do not deny the beast—
No thought is deemed too spicy
In Nature’s grandest feast.
What practices or shifts in perspective might help us align more with the animal kingdom’s wisdom regarding the transient nature of physical existence?
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