Back in my day,
lies weren’t treated so harshly.
They were thought of
as fuel back then.
From the beginning,
lies were the fuel of imagination.
Untruths were how
that which is not
emerged from all that is
and nothing;
how humanity emerged
from that which is not humanity.
One lie became the fuel of all truth.
Over time,
the lie was buried.
The truths conspired,
collaborated and corroborated
so that the lie could not be known.
The lie that birthed all truth
seemingly disappeared back
into nothing and everything.
But it did not.
Trail Wood,
10/12/21`
In the beginning was the untruth, a whimsical quirk of the imagination, a ripple in the fabric of reality. This lie did not stand in stark opposition to truth; rather, it danced around it, through it, above and below it, like a sprightly elf in a woodland grove. It was not malignant; it was generative. It was the stuff of dreams, of ‘what-ifs,’ and ‘could-bes,’ giving form to formlessness and voice to the silence. The lie was the primordial soup from which truth emerged, crystallized, and took shape.
This ancient lie, this spark of dissonance, had the transformative power of alchemy. It turned void into matter, stillness into motion, silence into song. Just as a grain of sand in an oyster can produce a pearl, the lie churned within the depths of reality, giving rise to layers upon layers of truth—complex, beautiful, and profoundly real.
Truths, once born, went on to lead lives of their own. They formed alliances, built narratives, created empires. Yet, they never forgot their humble origin. Like celestial guardians, they conspired to protect the source of their existence, covering the ancient lie in veils of complication, locking it away in the impenetrable vault of the collective psyche.
While truths multiplied and flourished, the lie remained, hidden yet omnipresent, a cosmic jester in the grand theatre of existence. The lie was the grain of irregularity in a universe of patterns, the inkblot on a canvas of uniformity. It was the chaos that birthed order, the silence that gave rise to sound, the emptiness that filled all space.
Now, as we untangle the intricate webs of our shared stories, we begin to sense the presence of that elusive lie, peeking through the cracks in our certainties, winking at us from the shadows. It beckons us to embrace the paradox, to dance with ambiguity, and to celebrate the cosmic irony of our existence. The lie may have given birth to all truths, but it’s also the hidden catalyst that constantly challenges us to question, reimagine, and evolve.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary
We explore the paradoxical nature of the foundational lie that gave rise to all truths. We consider the lie not as the antithesis of truth but as its genesis, leading us to contemplate its hidden but constant presence in the evolution of our collective consciousness.
Glossarium
- Primordial: Existing at or from the beginning of time; primeval.
- Dissonance: A tension or clash resulting from the combination of two disharmonious elements.
- Alchemy: A seemingly magical process of transformation, creation, or combination.
“What is the opposite of two? A lonely me, a lonely you.”
— Richard Wilbur
In whispered tales, a secret spoke,
Of lie and truth, in cosmic joke.
A lie, they say, gave birth to all,
Yet hides in shadows, standing tall.
We listen close, do we not hear?
The echo of that lie, so near.
It calls to us in laughter sweet,
To find the truth, make incomplete.
Would we care to venture further into the labyrinth of our collective fables?
Leave a Reply