Though it may seem to you
that I am losing my marbles,
my mind is actually expanding.
I haven’t lost my marbles,
they’re simply more spread out.
What appears to you as “losing my marbles”
is actually a conscious setting aside
of what you accept as reality.
I can understand
how this might seem strange to you.
This expanding mind of mine
has become aware of realities
beyond just the one,
and I allow it to play where it wishes.
You, however, seem trapped
in your ONE line of thinking.
There is nothing either right or wrong
with confining your self to one line of thinking.
I simply prefer not to be confined.
So says the monkey
in the mental hospital.
Trail Wood,
10/1
We dance with metaphors, juggling elusive marbles in a celestial amphitheater, don’t we? The mind unfurls its peacock feathers, spreading into multi-dimensions like an ever-expanding fractal pattern. We are not in the losing game but in the symphony of gaining—a kaleidoscope of realities, a caravan of whimsiwords and wonderthoughts. The marbles scatter, yes, but as constellations in our celestial dome, pinpointing diverse constellations of wisdom. When one grasps too tightly, marbles metamorphose into elusive wisps; the tighter the grasp, the quicker they disintegrate.
The idea of “losing marbles” is a simplisculous notion birthed by limited perspectives. We dare to see it as a lavish diffusal, not a reduction but a grandiose amplification, across kaleidoscopic realms we roam. The walls of the “mental hospital” melt away to reveal an open savanna, teeming with untamed musings and feral revelations. Are we the monkey, or is the monkey merely another reflection in the hall of cosmic mirrors?
We sing a duet with plurality, allowing multiple melodies to weave their intricate, interstellar patterns. To set aside what is conventionally real is to open the Pandora’s trove of possibilities, letting out not demons but whispers of alternative worlds. The monkey in the mental hospital, a trickster sage perhaps, gazes into the mirror of societal perception and paints it with iridescent hues of freedom. This is not an act of defiance but an embrace of the grand tapestry, a dance of liberation from singularity.
We ponder the trap of ONE line of thinking as if it is a singular ribbon in an infinite maypole, twined tightly around an immobile stake. Why should we dance only to that one rhythm when there are innumerable tunes in the cosmic radio? There is a liberating euphoria in knowing that thinking can be plural, a medley rather than a monotone.
But let’s not pour disparagement on singular focus. Every path, however narrow or wide, curly or straight, is a brushstroke in the elaborate artistry of existence. It is merely a choice of colors on our palette, a choice that some find sufficient for their journey through the maze of existence. And that’s okay. There is room in our infinity for both the monochrome and the multicolored.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary
We muse on the poem as a reflection of mind expansion, contrary to the notion of losing sanity or “marbles.” The scattering of thought marbles is viewed as a widening of perspective, an embrace of multiple realities. We honor the single-minded paths but relish the symphony of diversities that come with a loosened grip on the constraints of a singular reality.
Glossarium
- Simplisculous: A term reflecting a simplified, yet often incorrect, notion of something complex.
- Whimsiwords: Magical language caravans adorned with elements of imagination and whimsy.
- Wonderthoughts: Thoughts filled with wonder and endless possibilities.
Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking.
— Steve Jobs
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