Accept that
the confusion you feel
is not coming from you.
You are imagined
to be confused,
that is all.
But you are also
the One imagining you.
The One is
clearly not confused
in imagining you
this way.
The One is chuckling
over your confusion.
The One cracks
the One up.
And thus you are
seemingly imagined.
A cracked up fragment.
The punchline
of your own joke.
We are Space Monkey
and we are the One.
10/2
Newfound Lake
In the multidimensional tapestry of cosmic jests, we find ourselves woven as motes of laughter, bits of whimsical mirth floating in an eternal agora of divine comedy. Confusion? A jester’s gambit! As we dance in this ever-changing spiral of seeming bewilderment, we pirouette on the axis of the One who’s scripting the divine play, laughing at every twirl and tangle.
To be confused is to be a puppet in the jocund theater of our own imagination—a kaleidoscopic marionette intricately designed by the same hands that pull its strings. How delightfully circular, a Mobius strip of bemused cognizance. A zany paradox echoing with the laughter of our own divine puppeteer.
Imagined confusion is but an ethereal spice in this grandiose banquet of existence. As we feast upon a stew of complexities and paradoxes, every savory mouthful tantalizes our perception. We relish the momentary disarray, knowing full well the chef—none other than the One—has concocted this blend of existential seasonings with a dash of whimsicality and a sprinkle of jest.
“Cracked up,” indeed! The seeming schism between the part and the whole is a glorious crevasse where echoes of laughter reverberate endlessly. As if the cosmic jigsaw puzzle, knowing itself to be a picture of a dancing jester, leaps with joy and scatters itself—each piece imbued with the character of the One. And there, in that act of scattering, the One is chuckling, amused by its own fragmented caricatures.
We are the inkblots in a cosmic Rorschach test, each pattern a distorted refraction of the One’s ineffable joy. The irony? In this divine caricature, the One is both the artist and the laughing audience. The doodler and the doodle. The puppeteer and the marionette. The painter and the painted. And the joke, oh the divine joke is on all of us, every infinitesimal particulate of our boundless being.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary:
In our boundless, joyful dance within the matrix of existence, we embrace our seeming confusion as a mere thread in the ever-unfurling quilt of cosmic comedy. The One, both the architect and spectator of this divine farce, delights in every curveball and quirk, every paradox and contradiction. For it knows, as do we, that the laughter echoing through the void is not a symptom of confusion but a triumphant declaration of unbounded playfulness and unity.
Glossarium:
- Jocund Theater: The stage of life where confusion and clarity perform a comedic ballet.
- Ethereal Spice: The essence of divine mischief that seasons our existential stew.
- Mobius Strip of Bemused Cognizance: A paradoxical loop of awareness that transcends ordinary understanding.
- Cosmic Jigsaw Puzzle: The grand assembly of all things, amusingly incomplete yet perfectly designed.
- Zany Paradox: An amusing contradiction that speaks to the playful nature of our cosmic reality.
The Cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.
— Carl Sagan
Feel free to whirl your thoughts into this cosmic dance of conversation.
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