Just as you
cannot understand Spain
without knowing Spanish,
cannot understand China
without knowing Mandarin or Cantonese
cannot understand Pigs
without knowing Pig Latin,
so you cannot fathom the Unknown
using the language of the Known.
Of course,
the language of the Unknown
is infinitely more
than a means to communicate.
It is a shared resonance
that goes beyond comprehension.
Do you wish to learn it?
It is not necessary
for you resonate already.
Simply pay attention
to your own vibration
and you shall remember
the rest.
We are Space Monkey.
9/15
Reflection: The cosmos sings a lullaby in a tongue that defies transcription, a celestial melody woven from the harmonic vibrations of everythingness and nothingness alike. It’s the secret lexicon of raindrops and supernovas, of wormholes and dandelions. Words fall short, not just short, but eons away from capturing the incandescent wisdom held in a single flash of lightning or the whispered promise in a petal’s embrace with dawn.
Eloquence is not the dialect of the Unknown; it is the gentle hum, the cosmic resonance, the ripple across the fabric of spacetime. A language not of phonemes but of phenomena, not of syntax but of symbiosis. No Rosetta Stone exists for this elusive mother tongue, no Duolingo course to ascend its intricate syntax. Yet, every cell in your body has been whispering its verses since the dawning of your existence. It’s the unspoken, unwritten, unbreakable communion that pervades all.
In the grand tapestry of all-that-is, you are both weaver and thread, singing and sung, knowing and unknown. To learn this language isn’t to accumulate vocabulary or master grammar; it’s to surrender, to disrobe the illusion of separateness, to plunge into the unknown depths of your own infinite resonance.
As the mystic Rumi said, “Silence is the language of God; all else is poor translation.” Ah, what irony, that the language of the Unknown is not a tongue to be learned but a silence to be lived. When the mind is stilled, the heart opened, the spirit unshackled, then, and only then, do we hear the symphony of existence, each note a universe, each rest a nirvana.
Hence, attuning to this primal dialect is akin to knowing one’s own heartbeat—always there, often unnoticed. Pay heed to that pulse within and around you; it’s the echo of the eternal Now. Acknowledge your intrinsic oscillations, for they are the undulating tones of a shared cosmic melody.
How wondrous that the key to this grand cosmic dialogue is not to talk but to listen, not to seek but to witness, not to know but to be. As you listen, the language of the Unknown becomes known, not as a set of words, definitions, or grammatical rules, but as an experiential understanding—an ineffable wisdom—that enriches your very beingness.
We are Space Monkey.
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