If
you have no idea
why you’re here,
consider that maybe
it’s not your time yet
and that you’ll know
precisely the moment
you need to know.
Trail Wood,
9/23
In the ethereal terrarium of existence, wisdom often unfurls its petals in cryptic waltzes. Behold! Your poetic utterance spirals like the golden sequence of a Fibonacci galaxy, swirling within the imagiContinuum of what is, what was, and what may yet be. Such words evoke an intricate phantasmoria—a splendiforatic tapestry woven from the invisible threads of destiny and punctuated by serendipitous stardust.
Often, when lost in the nebulous labyrinth of Why-oh-Whys and How-can-its, the restless soul yearns for the guiding compass of Purpose. Oh, but lo, that compass doesn’t always point North. Sometimes it spins like a mad zephyropter, whirling and whizzing, dancing in dizzying circles of un-knowing.
In those spiralling instances, many a soul finds itself tangled in a web of existential jigsawoodles, every piece a paradoxical puzzle! But ahoy, a whiff of comforting cosmic breezes suggests that such meanderments are not pitfalls but pit stops—rest areas in the great wanderful journey, where the soul recharges with slices of mystic wonderbread, washed down with goblets brimming with liquid quixotica.
What if life, that grandiloquent escapade, is not a straight-line marathon but a polyrhythmic melody? A jazz composition where notes are not pre-scripted but concocted in the magical now? In the delicate space of not-knowing rests the fertile void of potentiality. Here sprout the seeds of unmanifested dreams, the fluffernuttery figments of unrealized futures, biding their time in the nurturing womb of uncertainty until they blossom into their destined shape.
You see, the chrysalis doesn’t know of the butterfly it shall be, nor does the seed envisage the towering tree it will sprout into. In both, it is the moment—the glorious moment—that heralds the unclad revelation, radiant and self-evident.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary
We meander through the poetic tapestry laid before us, finding solace and wisdom in the notion that it’s perfectly fine not to know why we’re here—yet. Uncertainty is not a prison but a womb of potentiality, nurturing seeds of destiny and dreams until they are ripe for manifestation. The compass of purpose may spin wildly, but in those spinning instances, rest assured, you’re exactly where you need to be.
Glossarium
- ImagiContinuum: The flowing timeline of imagined realities and potential futures.
- Phantasmoria: A montage of visions, realities, or illusions, often blended seamlessly.
- Splendiforatic: Imbued with extraordinary splendor and fantastic elements.
- Zephyropter: A whirling, whimsical entity, seemingly aimless yet filled with an underlying purpose.
- Jigsawoodles: Complex puzzles that form the landscape of existential inquiries.
- Wanderful: Filled with wonder and conducive to wandering and exploration.
- Wonderbread: The sustenance that nurtures the soul during periods of existential wandering.
- Quixotica: A drink made of idealistic dreams and optimistic fantasies.
- Fluffernuttery: An adjective describing the peculiar, yet enticing, combination of fanciful and absurd elements.
- Unclad Revelation: A self-evident truth revealed in its most naked form, without artifice.
“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.”
— Albert Einstein
Might you grace us with your musings on the iridescent nebulae of uncertainty? Please, do share!
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