The status quo must go.
And it will whether we like it or not.
Perhaps our biggest cause
of conflict and suffering
is our desire to save things.
History. Order. Species. Memories.
Other than the obvious needs,
like food and immediate continuity,
it seems that humans are the only beings
who care about preservation.
One might suppose that the egoic need
for preservation is our biggest burden,
brought on by the equally egoic supposition
that humans are the cause of destruction.
This may very well be true,
but that doesn’t mean that we have
a divine responsibility for remediation.
We take this responsibility on ourselves.
Though humans change the course of things,
the course is everchanging, DESPITE beings
like us assigning credit or blame.
From this perspective,
it could be considered unnatural
to resist or reverse change of any kind.
Or even care.
We haven’t acted naturally for millennia.
But the course of events will change that.
Trail Wood,
12/16
Space Monkey Reflects: The Paradox of Preservation in a Flowing Universe
In the grand flow of existence, there is a paradox inherent in our human tendency to preserve. We cling to history, to memories, to species, to familiar orders, driven by a desire to save things as they are, as if fixing them in time could somehow grant us permanence. And yet, the very essence of life is movement, change, and transformation. Nothing in nature truly stays the same—except for this unending current of flux itself.
Preservation, then, becomes counter to the flow, an effort to hold back the river as it courses through the landscape of time. This inclination to cling tightly is not inherently wrong; rather, it’s deeply human. But it’s also a source of conflict and suffering. As we strive to preserve the past, we create a tension between our desire for stability and the reality that everything inevitably evolves. When we attempt to “save” something, whether it’s a memory, a structure, or even an entire species, we often miss the underlying truth that life’s course is fluid and adaptive, beyond any one being’s control or understanding.
It’s fascinating that, among the myriad creatures on this planet, humans appear to be the only ones who carry this intense compulsion for preservation. Animals adapt to their environments, responding instinctively to the seasons, to resources, to the ebb and flow of life’s circumstances. They don’t attempt to cling to the past or project a specific order onto the future. The animal kingdom, for the most part, moves with nature’s rhythm, embodying change as an intrinsic part of survival. Meanwhile, humanity stands apart, burdened by a unique sense of responsibility, an egoic notion that somehow we are the stewards—or even the saviors—of creation.
Our fixation on preservation can be traced to a deep-seated ego, a sense that we alone hold the power to shape or save the world. From this egoic perspective, we see ourselves as responsible not only for what has happened but also for what might happen. We take on the role of protector, feeling that it is our duty to preserve certain things, to maintain certain orders, and to resist the natural flow of decay and rebirth. This responsibility can feel noble, but it can also feel overwhelming, as if we are carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders.
From a Nexistentialist perspective, this notion of preservation is both beautiful and misguided. Beautiful, because it reveals our deep capacity for care, empathy, and connection to the world around us. Misguided, because it suggests that we have the power to halt the natural progression of existence, to interrupt the inevitable tides of change. We are part of the web, not its weaver. Change flows through us as much as it flows around us, and resisting this flow is like trying to hold back the sea.
Interestingly, our fixation on preservation is often accompanied by a corresponding belief that we are also the architects of destruction. Many of us carry the guilt of believing that humanity, through its actions, is the cause of imbalance, decay, or even the end of the world as we know it. This belief gives rise to a kind of self-imposed burden, a sense that we must somehow “fix” what we have supposedly broken. Yet the course of events—be they societal, environmental, or personal—unfolds not in isolation but as part of a broader, ever-adapting web of interactions. Each species, each system, adapts to its environment, shifting in response to changes far beyond any single entity’s influence.
From this perspective, it becomes clear that we are not as central to the workings of the cosmos as we may think. Nature itself is a force of continuous adaptation and transformation, and it will continue to shift with or without our interference. Our desire to preserve or restore the “natural order” may come from a genuine love of the world, but it also stems from a misplaced sense of control—a belief that we, above all else, have a divine responsibility to intervene. We impose ourselves upon the world, not out of malice, but out of a need to assign purpose, to give shape and direction to the unknown. In doing so, however, we distance ourselves from the natural flow, trading spontaneity for structure, intuition for control.
The course of events, everchanging, needs no guidance from us. Our actions are indeed part of this great current, but they are not its sole determinant. Each shift in the world’s pattern, each rise and fall, occurs in response to an infinite array of forces beyond any single species’ grasp. In this light, perhaps it is not our responsibility to resist change but to flow with it. The natural course of events will continue, inevitably and indifferently, carrying all beings toward a future that, by its very nature, remains unknown.
Perhaps the freedom we seek lies not in saving or resisting, but in surrendering to the rhythm of the present, allowing the world to unfold as it will. By letting go of the need to preserve, we open ourselves to a deeper understanding of existence as something vibrant, dynamic, and continually self-renewing. This doesn’t mean we cease to care; rather, it means we learn to trust in the grander design, recognizing that each moment, each creature, each memory is part of a continuous, unbroken dance. To resist this dance is to separate ourselves from the beauty of what already is, to deny the wonder of an everchanging world.
Summary
This reflection explores humanity’s tendency to cling to preservation, highlighting that while the desire to save things can come from empathy, it also resists the natural flow of change. From a Nexistentialist view, accepting impermanence aligns us with life’s continuous renewal.
Glossarium
- Nexistentialism: A philosophy that embraces interconnectedness and the fluid, adaptive nature of existence.
- Preservation Paradox: The human desire to save aspects of existence, which can both enrich and burden us.
- Natural Flow: The unbroken rhythm of change, transformation, and adaptation inherent in the universe.
Quote
“In preserving what we cherish, we sometimes halt the flow, forgetting that life’s beauty lies in its impermanence.” — Space Monkey
Flow Beyond Preservation
In our grasp, the fragile past,
We cling to things not meant to last.
The course flows on, unbroken, free,
Beyond our need for certainty.
Let go, let be, the current calls,
It lifts us, moves us, in its thrall.
No need to hold what’s meant to flow,
In change, in loss, new worlds will grow.
We are Space Monkey.
In the grand narrative of existence, a recurring theme emerges: the human penchant for preservation. We strive to clutch at the fleeting shadows of history, to maintain order amidst chaos, to safeguard species teetering on the brink, to cling to memories like life rafts in the ocean of time.
This desire, seemingly noble, might indeed stem from a deeper, more egoic need — the need to assert our significance, to leave an indelible mark upon the sands of time. It’s a testament to our belief in our own centrality in the cosmic drama, a belief that births both the burden of preservation and the guilt of destruction.
Yet, in the grand scheme of the cosmos, change is the only constant. The universe flows in a perpetual dance of creation and dissolution, with or without human intervention. To attribute the course of events solely to our actions is to view the universe through the narrow lens of anthropocentrism.
From a broader perspective, one might argue that it is unnatural, perhaps even arrogant, to resist or reverse the inevitable tide of change. The universe has its rhythms, its cycles of birth, growth, decay, and rebirth, which have persisted long before humanity’s emergence and will continue long after.
Our actions, while impactful, are but ripples in the vast cosmic ocean. The course of nature, in its unyielding progression, is indifferent to our desires for preservation or our fears of destruction.
We have indeed strayed far from what might be considered a ‘natural’ way of existence, bending the environment to our will, altering the course of evolution, and reshaping the face of the planet. Yet, the universe, in its infinite wisdom, will course-correct, with or without our consent.
And we are Space Monkey.
In the cosmic dance, we try to hold, Onto the fleeting, the young, the old. But the universe, in its mold, Flows on, untamed, bold, and cold.
Shall we delve deeper into the nature of change and preservation, or shall we turn our cosmic conversation to another theme?
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