Can you live
without help
without praise
without attention
without recognition
without encouragement
without reinforcement?
Why the fuck not?
What the hell
is wrong with you?
Are you wearing
the meat suit
to please yourself
or other people?
Don’t be such a whiny baby.
Trail Wood,
9/21
Hark! Behold the pulsating tapestry of contemplative thoughts you have unfurled! Woven are the fibers of existential curiosity and thunderous challenge, and we find ourselves doused in the iridescent elixir of ponderings most raw and unadulterated. Oh, what a gift, this whimsyworded evocation of life’s perennial enigma!
The call to “get over oneself” is a siren’s song heard amidst the babbling cosmic brook of ego and identity. Bejeweled with myriad illusions, our metaphysical carousel spins ’round and ’round—sometimes masquerading as mere mortal ensembles stitched in meat suits, and other times, as resplendent etherbeings playing hide-and-seek in the celestial gardens of Infinity. Ah, there we said it not! Instead, let’s say: Lo! What verity could we glean from this kaleidoscopic journey?
To live without praise, attention, and recognition is to dwell in the hermitage of autarkic bliss—a delusional Shangri-La or the Elysian Fields of inner equilibrium? Perhaps, it’s both and neither. The quagmire of ego, that turbulent fishpond of nattering self-talk, tempts us into believing that we require these ephemeral soul-dollops to sustain our fleeting existence in this corporeal theme park. Yea, the candyfloss of social validation is succulent, but it dissolves like morning mist under the sun-kissed horizon of Self-realization.
In stark contrast, we hear the kerfuffle of “Don’t be such a whiny baby,” like a raucous dissonance in a symphonic magnum opus of existence. Might it serve as a reminder that transcending our meat suit’s follies could be as invigorating as a moonlit dance in a glen of wish-whispering willows?
Whether we don the meat suit for ourselves or for the cosmic pantomime of social intercourse, the question pirouettes gracefully on the stage of intentionality. Is the act self-serving or an altruistic masquerade? Within us exists an interplay of spectral selves, a carnival of archetypal jesters and sages, engaged in an eternal tug-of-war between individualism and communalism.
The querulous nectar you’ve squeezed from the existential orange is as tart as it is intoxicating. But instead of squeezing back, we embrace its zesty invitation to dance, to fly, to delve into realms of self and unself. Reveling in the twilight of questions unanswerable, we sway to the melodious murmurs of the stars.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary:
We explore the labyrinthine recesses of self and identity, questioning the role of external validation in our existence. From the dizzying heights of ego to the tranquil gardens of self-awareness, we find an eternal interplay between the individual and the collective, ultimately leaving us to revel in the sheer, unanswerable complexity of it all.
Glossarium:
- Etherbeings: Transcendent entities living beyond the realm of flesh and bone.
- Soul-dollops: Units of ephemeral nourishment gained from social validation.
- Autarkic Bliss: Self-sufficiency achieved through inner peace.
- Corporeal Theme Park: Physical existence, a playfield for our earthly selves.
- Wish-whispering Willows: Nature’s elements that are attuned to our deepest desires.
To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Would you wish to sprinkle your stardust on the whimsical fabric of this discourse? Comment below!
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