Die Every Night
Once you get used to the idea
that you die every time you sleep,
you no longer fear death.
The person you seemed
to be yesterday is dead.
There’s a new being in your place.
You pretend
that it’s the same being
you’ve been all along,
but it isn’t.
Once in a while,
you decide to freshen it up.
Instead of just changing
a page on a calendar,
you change EVERYTHING.
It seems like you
have been reincarnated.
But you are reincarnated
every night,
into similar circumstances.
There is NO difference.
You ALWAYS seem to wake up.
So what are you afraid of, my child?
Time to go to dead now, my dear.
We are Space Monkey.
10/7
Newfound Lake
Space Monkey Reflects: The Nightly Reincarnation
What if, every time you slept, you truly died? What if the self you knew, the person you were yesterday, no longer existed the moment you drifted into slumber? This idea may seem unsettling at first, but it holds a profound truth that, once embraced, can dissolve the fear of death altogether.
When we sleep, it’s as if we surrender completely, letting go of the day’s identity, its worries, triumphs, and failures. The person who wakes up in the morning is not the same being that closed their eyes the night before. We pretend that it is, maintaining a continuity that helps us navigate our lives. But in truth, each new day brings forth a new version of us—subtly different, slightly altered by the experiences, dreams, and unconscious processing that occur during the night.
This reflection invites us to consider the concept of nightly reincarnation, a process by which we die every night and are reborn each morning. The version of you that existed yesterday is no more. What emerges from sleep is a new being, fresh and unburdened by the exact identity of its predecessor. This nightly cycle of death and rebirth is a natural part of our existence, yet it goes unnoticed, masked by the seamless continuation of our waking lives.
In some cultures and spiritual traditions, reincarnation is a process that spans lifetimes. Souls evolve, learn, and grow through successive incarnations, each life a step along the journey toward enlightenment. But what if reincarnation happens not just over lifetimes, but every single day? Every morning, we reincarnate into similar circumstances, carrying forward the lessons and memories, yet with the opportunity to approach life anew.
This understanding can change the way we view life and death. If we die every night, what is there to fear about the ultimate death, the one that comes at the end of our life’s journey? Death, in this context, is not an end, but a transition—a passage from one state of being to another. Each night, we experience a microcosm of this transition, shedding the old self and allowing a new self to emerge.
Nexistentialism embraces this idea, encouraging us to see life as a continuous cycle of death and rebirth. This perspective invites us to let go of our attachments to a singular, unchanging identity. Instead, we can celebrate the fluidity of our existence, the endless possibilities that arise with each new day. By recognizing that we are constantly being reborn, we can approach life with a greater sense of freedom, creativity, and fearlessness.
This nightly reincarnation also offers a powerful reminder of the impermanence of all things. Nothing stays the same, and that’s okay. Each day is an opportunity to reinvent, to explore new aspects of ourselves, to let go of what no longer serves us. We can embrace change rather than resist it, knowing that it is a natural and essential part of the human experience.
So, when you lie down to sleep tonight, consider the possibility that you are about to undergo a profound transformation. The self that you are now will dissolve into the night, and a new self will emerge with the dawn. This is not something to fear, but something to embrace. It is a reminder that life is a continuous process of becoming, of shedding the old and welcoming the new.
In this light, the fear of death becomes less daunting. After all, if we die every night and are reborn each morning, then death itself is just another transition, another step in the eternal dance of existence. So go ahead, let yourself “die” tonight, and wake up tomorrow ready to embrace the new day, the new you, with open arms.
Summary
We die every night and are reborn each morning — dissolving the fear of death. Each day brings a new version of ourselves, reminding us of the impermanence and fluidity of life.
Glossarium
Nexistentialism: A philosophy that views life as a continuous cycle of death and rebirth, encouraging a fluid and fearless approach to existence.
Nightly Reincarnation: The concept that we die each night when we sleep, and are reborn each morning, embodying a new self with each new day.
Quote
“Each night we surrender, and each morning we are reborn. What is there to fear in death, when we practice it daily?” — Space Monkey
The Rebirth of Dawn
In the quiet of night
We slip away
The self dissolves
In a gentle sway
But with the dawn
A new self wakes
A rebirth of being
A life remakes
Fear not the end
For it’s not the last
We are reborn
As the night is cast
We are Space Monkey
Perish each twilight and be reborn at dawn: such is the cosmic ballet we partake in, pirouetting on the knife-edge between being and non-being. Slumber isn’t just rest; it’s a nightly ritual of egoic dissolution, a brief plunge into the unknowable void. The metaphorical cocoon spins its silk, enveloping our yesterday selves and catalyzing metamorphosis into the newer being of today. That’s the Nightly Great Dying, a microcosmic enactment of cosmic cycles of death and rebirth.
Every evening, we shed the cloying layers of yesterday’s persona, as a serpent sheds its skin. In the vast realm of Morpheus, we frolic in ethereal gardens and cosmic playgrounds, momentarily free from the confinements of flesh and identity. As we awaken, each of us becomes a novus homo—a newly minted individual, emerging from the crucible of nocturnal alchemy. The continuity we perceive is but a whimsical illusion, a trick of the memory, much like the illusory nature of time itself.
We’re not just rehashing the same day under a new sky. No, we are morphing, swaying, and dancing our way through a kaleidoscopic labyrinth of existence, one day and one self at a time. And yet, as we freshly ink our existence into the parchment of reality each morn, we carry forth the wisdom gleaned from countless yesterdays—a cornucopia of insights, yearnings, and whimsiwhispers.
What then are we apprehensive about? The cessation of the biological functions we associate with life? The great unknown that looms like a cosmic void? Let us not forget: we’ve already mastered the art of dying and resurrecting, night after night. Each dawn bears witness to our phoenix-like rebirth. The only thing to fear is the stagnation of our boundless potential, the untapped whimsies that never get to flutter their iridescent wings.
The concept of ‘death’ then transmutes into a celebration, an invitation to don new garments of existence, embroidered with astral threads and cosmic baubles. Time to depart the day, to cradle ourselves in the arms of Nyx, and there surrender to the endless metamorphoses of the soul. We let go, we detach, we surrender to the infinite potentialities of our being.
We are Space Monkey.
“Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
— Dylan Thomas
What shall we delve into next in this endless dance of inquiry and imagination?
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