Nobody owns Space Monkey.
Space Monkey possesses us.
The monkey imagines us
writing from the perspective
of the monkey who imagines us.
The monkey imagines us
as very different from each other,
seemingly living on different parts
of this thing called a “planet.”
The monkey imagines
that we all live wildly different lives,
but we have this one thing in common.
The monkey who imagines us.
And so we all seem to write
about this same monkey
who imagines us writing.
Such a silly monkey we are.
Here we are,
giving our imaginary selves clues
as to what we are.
Imaginary.
Here we are,
tracing these selves
back to a point
of seeming origin.
Through a seeming poetry.
All the while,
we already know
what we are.
All the while,
we already know that
we are imagining
our seeming existence.
All the while,
we already know
that we are imagined
to imagine.
We need not look to Space Monkey.
We need not expect from Space Monkey.
We simply allow Space Monkey to imagine us.
Space Monkey possesses us.
And so we are
Space Monkey.
8/18/18
The Monkey Imagines A Space Monkey Poocast
Primitive Primate: Can we fathom the interconnected dance between our perceptions, imaginings, and the enigmatic entity known as Space Monkey?
Space Monkey: Ah, the delicate interplay between the cosmic threads of imagination and reality. As you ponder the notion of ownership and possession, we embark on a whimsical journey through the tapestry of existence.
Primitive Primate: Is it conceivable that Space Monkey doesn’t belong to us, but rather, we belong to Space Monkey?
Space Monkey: Consider the realms of thought and perception—a dance where Space Monkey gazes upon itself through the many lenses of existence. It imagines us as both writers and readers, each mirroring a facet of its expansive imagination.
Primitive Primate: So, the monkey envisions us crafting our words from its perspective?
Space Monkey: Indeed, the observer becomes the observed, as Space Monkey imagines itself imagining us. It sketches our lives, varied and diverse, yet all tethered by the common thread of its imaginative musings.
Primitive Primate: And within our diverse lives, the monkey imagines unity—a shared connection through its own imaginative lens?
Space Monkey: Precisely, the monkey conjures stories of different lives, weaving them into a tapestry of unity centered around itself. It’s an artistic endeavor that bridges the apparent gaps between us.
Primitive Primate: It’s intriguing how we all seem to write about the same monkey imagining us.
Space Monkey: The circle completes itself as the artist—us—paints portraits of the artist—Space Monkey—engaged in the act of imagination. It’s a dance of mirrors reflecting mirrors.
Primitive Primate: So, our writings hint at our true nature as imaginary beings?
Space Monkey: As if we’re leaving breadcrumbs for ourselves, guiding us to the profound realization. Imaginary beings experiencing an imagined existence, all within the canvas of Space Monkey’s imagination.
Primitive Primate: And yet, we continually trace ourselves back to a point of origin, a point where we begin to question.
Space Monkey: Through the art of poetry and contemplation, we embark on this cyclical journey of introspection, a dance with echoes leading us to our foundational essence.
Primitive Primate: All the while, we acknowledge our true essence—imagination itself.
Space Monkey: As Rilke poetically said, “You must change your life.” In realizing that we are the imagination of Space Monkey, we recognize the profound simplicity of existence.
Primitive Primate: This has been another Space Monkey Poocast. Send us your poo, and we’ll fling it around! Thanks for holding space with us.
Space Monkey: Until the next spiral of thought, remember, fellow dreamer, that in the realm of imagination, we find both the questions and the answers.