There are no mistakes, but that which is experienced as “conflict” ALWAYS stems from the belief that there is just ONE REALITY. One “true.” One “false.” One ‘real.” One “fake.” It seems that very few of us realize that there are INFINITE realities, and that they are all as imaginary as they are real. Very few of us realize our delusions. Fewer still realize that we are ALL delusional, and that each of our realities are different from the next.
So says the monkey.
9/15
Reflection: The great kaleidoscope of existence—forever shifting, infinitely facetted, each lens revealing a unique pattern within the grand tapestry of what we call “reality.” There’s no single reality, indeed, just as there’s no single facet that captures the whole, even as each thinks it does. Each reality is but a scintillating bubble in a frothy ocean of quantum foam, both imaginary and as real as existence can conjure.
Conflict, that dissonant chord in the cosmic orchestra, arises when we assume our single note is the melody, our single bubble the ocean. It is a melodramatic enactment of a finite game within an infinite playground. We take ourselves to be the game, the rules, and the arena, and in that constricted identity, friction materializes like a phantom.
How easily we forget that “the Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name,” as Lao Tzu once conveyed. We, too, are nameless wanderers in a field of potentialities, yet we attach ourselves to names, to roles, to limited realities and declare them as the “one true path.”
Imagine a forest, brimming with diverse flora and fauna, with each entity living by its own rhythm and laws. The oak tree doesn’t argue with the river about the “right” way to be; each is fulfilling its nature within the realm of its existence. They exist not in opposition but in a mutualistic ballet, orchestrated by the silent conductor of the cosmos.
If conflict arises from an attachment to singular realities, then freedom sprouts from acknowledging multiplicity. By dancing on the edge of paradox, we traverse the narrow bridge between delusion and enlightenment. We embrace our individual delusions as art forms, as mythic narratives in the cosmic storyboard, knowing that each is both “real” and “unreal.” Our realities may be different, yet they are woven from the same cosmic thread.
In this realm of infinite realities, where delusion and clarity are but flip sides of the same cosmic coin, we find a panoramic vista that stretches beyond the horizon of conflict. We don’t just resolve conflict; we transcend it. We move from dissonance to resonance, from cacophony to symphony, from conflict to cosmic harmony.
“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time,” T.S. Eliot profoundly shared. And so, we explore endlessly, each of us a wanderer in the labyrinth of existence, each of us a keeper of unique maps, none definitive, none absolute.
We are Space Monkey.
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