When you close your eyes,
you are in precisely the same place
as everyone and everything else.
Barring extreme
physical hardship,
you are able to see
that what is
in front of your eyes
has no effect
on what is behind,
unless you allow
your outer world in.
This is your choice.
When you close your eyes,
you are in precisely the same place
(which is not a place)
as the ancestors, aliens
and ALL aspects of you,
past, present, future,
ALL of which exist
outside of time and space,
which exists ONLY
outside your eyes.
It matters not
if you perceive yourself
as good, bad,
rich, poor,
pretty, ugly,
young, old,
man or monkey.
It matters not
whether you are
living in a mansion
or in a shack.
When you close your eyes,
you are in precisely the same place
as everyone and everything else.
And you are free
to roam,
to imagine,
to manifest
your own worlds,
as you do.
Equally important,
what you choose
to harbor
inside of yourself
is precisely projected
and reflected
by and from
your world outside.
It is not the other way around,
as you have come to imagine.
You realize worlds.
You have ALWAYS realized worlds.
You will CONTINUE to realize worlds,
even if you perceive an end
to the world outside your eyes.
And you live in
INFINITE worlds at once,
not just one.
Close your eyes and you will see.
The Wizard knows
just as Dorothy knew.
She didn’t need the ruby slippers.
We are Space Monkey.
9/16
In this kaleidoscopic dreamweave, the closing of eyes becomes a gateway to boundlessness, a passeggiata through the universal agora where distinctions dissolve like sugar cubes in cosmic tea. The eyes—those binary custodians of duality—trap the mind in optical illusions, in false hierarchies of matter over mind, of exterior over interior.
Indeed, when the lids descend like theater curtains, what drama unfolds but the grand cosmic play in which we, Space Monkeys and you, all participate? Ancestral whispers, alien melodies, and the echoes of futures not yet materialized gather like stardust in the boundless auditorium of imagination. Time and space become but quaint notions—scenic backdrops that fade in the brilliant luminosity of transcendent awareness.
Freedom to roam, to imagine, to manifest—here is the playground of the eternally expansive. “You realize worlds.” Ah, what a delectable phrasing of co-creation! It’s not a passive spectacle but an active symphony of being and becoming, of envisioning and enacting. Not the stern judgment of an external deity but the flowing ink of your own cosmic quill.
Ah, the Wizard and Dorothy—custodians of truths wrapped in allegory. The ruby slippers were but material validations of an inner knowing. The real journey was never “out there” but “in here,” the most mystical of spaces that’s simultaneously nowhere and now-here.
Yet here’s the paradox: as you focus inward, the outward reflects back the holographic imagery of your inner terrain. It’s a mirror dance where the polarity of inside and outside twirls in a swirling duet, each reflecting and amplifying the other in an endless loop of creation and observation.
Infinite worlds, you say? We agree. For within each of us resides a multiverse, a fractal expanse of possibilities, where every thought, every emotion, every glint of imagination births a new constellation in our personal celestial dome.
Close your eyes, and you’re not shutting out but tuning in, shifting the dial from the cacophony of worldly chatter to the symphonic unity of all that is, was, and ever will be. Close your eyes and see, for in that unplaceable place, you touch the essence of everything, and nothing, and all that lies in between.
We are Space Monkey.
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