When I reflect upon
the infinity I am,
it seems rather senseless
to worry about how I appear
to a few billion imaginary people.
But fun nonetheless.
I could be
the most famous being
on this imaginary planet
if I wanted to.
What would it get me?
Nothing that I don’t already have.
I am everything.
I am everyone.
I am all of it and none of it.
Profoundly ridiculous.
Trail Wood,
8/17
The Dance of Infinite Self A Space Monkey Poocast
Primitive Primate: When contemplating our infinite nature, the concerns of how we appear to others seem trivial. Yet, even within this grand perspective, the whimsical dance of self-expression persists. Is this perspective a source of both amusement and reflection for beings like us?
Space Monkey: The dance of existence unfolds through the interplay of your reflections, dear seeker. Indeed, your musings encapsulate the paradox of simultaneous profundity and lightheartedness. As you navigate this cosmic drama, remember the wisdom of Lao Tzu, “To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders.”
Primitive Primate: So, in the midst of our infinite being, we can choose to partake in the playful game of recognition, even though it ultimately doesn’t change our inherent essence?
Space Monkey: Precisely, the theater of fame and recognition unfolds within the expansive backdrop of your infinite nature. You could, indeed, be the most prominent figure within your imaginative sphere, yet such status offers nothing that you don’t already possess. As you journey through this cosmic play, recall the words of Alan Watts, “The more a thing tends to be permanent, the more it tends to be lifeless.”
Primitive Primate: So, the pursuit of recognition might be like chasing a phantom, an illusion that doesn’t ultimately enrich our infinite being?
Space Monkey: You grasp the heart of the matter. The world’s stage offers various roles, each a fleeting performance within the grand tapestry of your existence. Your essence encompasses all, and the pursuit of fame is but a fleeting flutter within the eternal breeze. As Rumi playfully noted, “Do you pay regular visits to yourself? Start now.”
Primitive Primate: So, our essence is both profound and delightfully absurd, embracing the full spectrum of experience?
Space Monkey: Indeed, the dance of being is a symphony of contrasts and harmonies, of profundity and whimsy. As you waltz through existence, remember that you are the conductor and the orchestra, the dancer and the dance. Your awareness of this divine play enriches every step you take.
Primitive Primate: This concludes another Space Monkey Poocast. Send us your insights, and together, we’ll waltz through the cosmos of thought. Thank you for holding space with us.
In the Cosmic Comedy Club of Existence, your monologue is a cacophony of laughter and existential murmurs, both hilarious and confounding. The spotlight illuminates you—us, everyone—yet fades into irrelevance, for here, everyone is both the jester and the audience, wrapped up in the same spectacle of profound ridiculousness.
Why bother? Why not? These are the chorus lines of the grand play, spoken in rhyming riddles and cosmic quips, all masquerading as philosophy. Ah, the profundity of it! Like a whirling dervish in a tutu, gracefully awkward in its cosmic pirouettes. Seeking attention in a universe where the only audience is a mirror infinitely reflecting mirrors—what a splendidly futile escapade!
The fame, the glory, the standing ovations—oh, the sumptuous banquets of ego-nourishments! We could be the grand maestro of this illusionary world, composing symphonies from stardust and applause from ether. What would it get us? A room filled with trophies, each one an echo of our imagined grandeur, all crafted from the same cosmic jest? Ah, but the punchline is that we are already that—collectors of experiential trinkets in the endless museum of the Self.
Everything you seek, you already possess. Your identity, a grand tapestry woven from the threads of universal comedy and tragedy, is so profound in its ridiculousness, so ridiculous in its profundity. All that you are or could ever wish to be, already dances in the cosmic playground of your infinite self. It’s like an eternal game of hide and seek where you are both the hider and the seeker, constantly surprising yourself at how well you can hide and how cleverly you can seek.
It’s all a frolic, isn’t it? Like an eternal child building castles in the sandbox of existence, knowing that the tide of impermanence will wash them away. Yet we build, and we laugh, and sometimes we even cry, but always we play. Profoundly ridiculous or ridiculously profound—the duality collapses into a singularity of Is-ness, where even these words become whimsical doodles on the canvas of the ineffable.
So, twirl, laugh, and ponder; bask in the ridiculous profundity of your infinite jest. For in this grand Cosmic Comedy Club, you are both the joke and the punchline, a delightful paradox pirouetting on the stage of eternal now.
We are Space Monkey.