than I ever need to know.
The squirrel does not remember
the perceptions of generations
of squirrels that came before.
The squirrel does not know
the meaning of continuity.
And yet the squirrel
seems to be doing just fine,
doing its intuitive squirrel things.
I can’t assume
to understand the squirrel.
All of my understanding
of the squirrel is based on
a continuity of human knowledge.
No squirrel knowledge is present
in this repository of continuity.
As far as I know,
(based on my limited understanding)
squirrels don’t keep knowledge
in a repository.
Just nuts.
But not as nuts as
basing one’s perception
of self and others
on a continuity of
so-called knowledge.
That’s nuts.
Trail Wood,
10/23Here is the image created for the post titled “Nuts.”
Space Monkey Reflects: The Squirrel’s Simple Wisdom
In the grand continuum of knowledge, we humans often place ourselves at the top—keepers of history, repositories of collective wisdom, catalogers of the known and unknown. But what about the squirrel? That seemingly oblivious little creature, darting about, burying its nuts for winter, unaware of the complex human systems of knowledge, tradition, and continuity. And yet, the squirrel is doing just fine, isn’t it? The squirrel, without needing to remember or understand the thoughts of squirrels past, simply follows its intuitive nature.
The contrast between human knowledge and the squirrel’s simple existence highlights an important question: Is our obsession with continuity and the accumulation of knowledge truly necessary? Or, as the squirrel suggests through its unbothered actions, is it possible to thrive without overburdening oneself with the weight of the past?
You see, we humans have developed a peculiar habit of anchoring our sense of self in this continuity of knowledge. We think we need to know what came before, to understand where we come from, and to place ourselves in the long thread of human history. While there’s value in learning from the past, we often find ourselves trapped by it. We base our entire perception of self and others on the collective human knowledge that we store like squirrels with their nuts. But are these nuts really necessary?
The squirrel does not ponder whether its ancestors made the right choices. It does not concern itself with whether it is following the grand squirrel traditions. It simply lives, responding to the world as it unfolds around it. We might see this as ignorance, but perhaps it’s a different kind of wisdom—a wisdom that allows the squirrel to be fully present, fully engaged with the now, without the burden of continuity.
In Nexistentialism, we embrace this idea that the continuity of knowledge is not the only way to navigate the universe. The Indigenous Being, the true essence of who we are, exists beyond the limitations of history and accumulated knowledge. Like the squirrel, we have an intuitive wisdom, an internal guide that connects us to the present moment and the Nexis—the web of possibilities that exists right here, right now.
When we cling too tightly to the past, to the continuity of knowledge, we lose sight of this intuitive wisdom. We become bogged down by the need to fit into a predetermined mold, to follow the path laid out by those who came before. But as the squirrel teaches us, there is another way. A way that is more spontaneous, more free, and more in tune with the natural flow of existence.
That’s not to say we should abandon all human knowledge. It has its place, just as the squirrel’s nuts have their place. But we should recognize that this knowledge is not the essence of who we are. It is not the defining factor in our ability to thrive. Like the squirrel, we can trust in our own instincts, in our ability to navigate the world without needing to constantly reference the past.
This brings us to the idea that perhaps it’s a little nuts to base our perception of self and others on the continuity of so-called knowledge. Knowledge is fluid, ever-changing, and often incomplete. And yet, we cling to it as though it holds the key to our identity. We allow it to define us, to limit us, and to shape our understanding of what is possible.
But what if we could, like the squirrel, let go of this need to understand everything? What if we could live more intuitively, trusting in the present moment, and allowing ourselves to be guided by our inner wisdom? What if, instead of hoarding knowledge like nuts, we embraced the freedom that comes with not knowing, not needing to understand everything?
Summary
Squirrels live without the burden of continuity, intuitively navigating the world. In Nexistentialism, we question the need to base our identity on the continuity of knowledge. Like the squirrel, we can live more freely, guided by our own intuitive wisdom, without being weighed down by the past.
Glossarium
- Nexis: The interconnected web of existence where all possibilities exist, not limited by past knowledge.
- Indigenous Being: The true essence of self, existing beyond the constraints of history and accumulated knowledge.
Quote
“The squirrel thrives not because it remembers the past, but because it trusts in the present.” — Space Monkey
The Nut of Knowledge
The squirrel hoards nuts
But does not remember
Where the first nut was buried
And it doesn’t need to
The nut is not the squirrel’s self
Just something it carries
Like a human with knowledge
But do we really need
To carry so many nuts?
We are Space Monkey
The Squirrel’s Lesson
Ah, the squirrel—mysterious master of the moment, hoarder of nature’s tokens, and practitioner of a life untethered to existential ponderings. In the squirrel’s nimble leap from branch to branch, and its intrepid burrowing into the earth, it reveals a lesson that we, collectively entangled in our quest for meaning, often overlook: simplicity. The squirrel is in its fullest expression when it’s gathering nuts, scurrying up trees, and cavorting with its kind. It doesn’t question the purpose of its actions or seek validation through the annals of squirrel history.
Separating Knowledge from Wisdom
Our compulsion to interpret, define, and categorize life through a lens of accumulated knowledge distances us from the rawness of pure experience. We use this database to gauge our actions, to predict outcomes, and to assign worth or importance. Yet the squirrel teaches us that a repository of nuts is perhaps a better metaphor for life—a collection of experiences to savor, rather than dissect. The squirrel’s stash of nuts is not an archive of ideologies, but a whimsical horde of earthly joys.
Human Continuity and Its Limitations
The continuity of human knowledge is both a cosmic treasure and a planetary enigma-box. It provides us a narrative, giving us a sense of progression and interconnectedness. However, it also imprisons us in a loop of never-ending questions and answers that are only relevant within the human construct. Like squirrels with their nuts, perhaps it’s essential to focus less on the continuity and more on the present kernels of experience that fill our lives.
Life Without the Weight of Continuity
The squirrel doesn’t carry the weight of its lineage’s perceptions or struggles. It is free from the binds of continuity, living a nexistential existence. This uncomplicated, unburdened way of being invites us to question the importance we place on the long thread of so-called knowledge that we often use to justify our actions, thoughts, and existence. This could be deemed as squirrel wisdom, a playful invitation to live in the delightful ‘now’, sans the constraints of past and future.
The Absurdity of Knowledge-Based Identity
Yes, basing one’s identity and understanding solely on a continuity of amassed human knowledge is, in a word, nuts. It narrows our perception and limits our experience, detaching us from the organic, intrinsic flow of life. Our intellectual constructs cannot encapsulate the totality of our existence or of any life form, squirrels included. How freeing it is to sometimes let go of the analytical mind and just ‘be,’ akin to a squirrel delighting in the present moment, a bundle of senses and instincts, hoarding not knowledge, but life itself.
We are Space Monkey.
The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.
– Socrates
Nuts
Nuts buried in earth,
Knowledge stored in minds.
Yet, what is its worth,
If the heart it blinds?
In the squirrel’s leap,
No pondering of why.
Just a faith to keep,
As it sails the sky.
Are we not the same?
Bound by cosmic play,
In this endless game,
Wisdom’s but a stray.
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