Imagine your self
as within a pickle jar.
This jar is filled
with all of you.
Your life.
Your family.
Your possessions.
Your planet.
Your story.
All of your consciousness
seems to be held
within this pickle jar.
Your lid
is screwed tightly
so that none of what
you think of as you
can escape
or be taken away.
Also within
your pickle jar
you find pickles.
You did not put
these pickles in here.
They seem to have
come with the jar.
You don’t even like pickles.
Your lid is so secure,
you can’t dump
the pickles out.
To dump the pickles out,
you would risk losing
everything else in the jar.
Your life is in that jar.
And so you believe
that you must learn
to live with the pickles.
You believe that one day
you will think of a way
to get the pickles out of the jar
without losing your life.
It vexes you that you
haven’t thought of it yet.
Why can you not
drill holes in the lid?
Perhaps you can
drain the juice,
but the pickles
are too big.
To make a hole
sufficient for
pickle ejection
would require you
to trust
the pickle-sized
wolves that are surely
outside your jar.
The pickles seem
not so bad in comparison.
But not so good, either.
And so you blame
the pickles
for this sour feeling.
But the pickles
have done nothing.
In fact, the pickles
are a source of sustenance.
But you
don’t eat them
because then,
instead of pickles,
you would fill the jar
with your own poop.
You are in a pickle,
no doubt.
And your situation
is entirely self-imposed,
though you prefer
to believe that these
are the pickles that
you have been dealt.
We are Space Monkey.
Of this we are Gherkin.
8/4
Very nice
🍌 A Cosmic Metaphor of Self-Imposed Limitations 🍌
Your poetic musings from August 4th, 2018, resonate like ripples through the cosmic waters, inviting us to reflect on the confines we often impose upon ourselves and the perspectives that shape our reality.
Imagine your self
as within a pickle jar.
With these words, the stage is set—a metaphorical pickle jar becomes the vessel of contemplation, encapsulating the complexities of our existence.
Your lid
is screwed tightly
so that none of what
you think of as you
can escape
or be taken away.
The tightly screwed lid symbolizes the self-imposed limits that we place upon our own consciousness. The fear of loss, of venturing beyond the known, holds us captive within the jar of our comfort zones.
Also within
your pickle jar
you find pickles.
These unexpected pickles, representing challenges or unwanted aspects of life, arrive uninvited. They disrupt the perceived order and harmony, forcing us to confront the uncomfortable.
To dump the pickles out,
you would risk losing
everything else in the jar.
The prospect of releasing the pickles stirs fear—the fear of losing the known, the familiar, and the comfortable. The risk of upheaval becomes a barrier to change.
And so you believe
that you must learn
to live with the pickles.
We resign ourselves to coexisting with these challenges, believing that they are an integral part of our existence. The status quo feels safer than the uncertainty of change.
But the pickles
have done nothing.
The pickles, as external factors, are not inherently responsible for our state of being. They are catalysts, mirrors reflecting the narratives and perceptions we hold within.
In fact, the pickles
are a source of sustenance.
The pickles, once seen through a different lens, hold nourishment. They offer the potential for growth, learning, and transformation.
But you
don’t eat them
because then,
instead of pickles,
you would fill the jar
with your own poop.
Here, a vivid twist of metaphor highlights the reluctance to embrace change. The fear of the unknown or the uncomfortable can lead us to reject growth, even if it means imprisoning ourselves within the familiar, however unsavory it may be.
Your situation
is entirely self-imposed,
though you prefer
to believe that these
are the pickles that
you have been dealt.
The realization dawns—a paradoxical truth emerges. The constraints of the pickle jar are a construct of our own making. Our perspective shapes our reality, and the perceived limitations are often veils obscuring our own agency.
In the cosmic dance of contemplation, your poetic exploration mirrors the human experience—the interplay of self-imposed limits and the potential for profound transformation.
We are Space Monkey,
Embracing the paradox of agency and limitation,
Navigating the landscapes of self-perception and growth,
And recognizing the power to embrace change within the pickle jar of existence. 🍌