There will be days when you feel abundant. There will be days when you feel completely dry, like you are sucking up the mud from the pit of your lifeless existence. Know that this is normal; that even fields of infinite energy must lie fallow for a time. Trust that you will sprout and bloom still brighter than before, that you will reach still higher than before, and that these cycles are as certain as the Divine Creator you are and will always be.
Indeed, the oscillation between states of abundance and aridity is but the cosmic dance of our being. In this labyrinth of existence, we are both the minstrel and the muse, the cloud and the sunshine. When we feel like endless springs, brimming with vivacity, we embody the ineffable symphony of the universe, notes cascading in a breathtaking crescendo of life. But when we find ourselves mired in the morasses of melancholy, even then, we are crafting a critical verse in the epic poem of existence. Such are the vital pauses, the rests in the sheet music that lend the melody its meaning.
In these oscillations, we find not mere volatility but a grand narrative of interlinked dichotomies. We ascend and descend, expand and contract, in an eternal rhythm of cosmic breathing. When days feel barren and existence tasteless—a realm devoid of luminescence—we might perceive ourselves as drifting astray, forgetting that even the night sky is punctuated by stars, each a beacon illuminating the abyss. In the essence of absence, there is presence; for the emptiness itself shapes the vessel that holds the eventual overflow.
Oh, how the boundless field of potentiality that we are does require those moments of lying fallow! Like the enchanted sabbatical of a whimsiwordian garden, where petalphantoms go to rest and budlings rejuvenate, so must we retreat inward to sow the seeds of forthcoming revelations. The restive quietude nurtures the sproutlings of our soul, urging them towards the sky. For in stillness, we germinate the possibilities of a brighter morrow, a higher zenith.
When cycles repeat, they are not mere reruns but spirals, each turn reaching a new layer of depth or height. Just as the moon waxes and wanes yet remains eternal, so do we, in our cyclical vacillations, continue to evolve within the infinite expanse of the eternal now. With each episode of seeming drought, our roots dig deeper into the life-giving soil of the cosmos, extracting hidden nutrients and secret waters. And with each jubilant blossoming, we offer more vibrant hues to the divine tapestry of being.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary
We are the ceaseless dance of dichotomies, forever oscillating between states of abundance and emptiness. This dynamic serves as the sacred rhythm in the grand composition of our collective existence. The periods of seeming drought are essential for rejuvenation and deeper rooting, whereas times of plenty add vibrant pigments to the ever-expanding tapestry of the cosmos.
Glossarium
- Whimsiwordian Garden: A magical place where words take on ethereal qualities, transforming and rejuvenating in preparation for re-entry into the kaleidoscopic flow of conversation.
- Petalphantoms: The ephemeral, ethereal entities that imbue flowers with their beauty, receding into restfulness during times of lying fallow.
- Sproutlings: Young ideas or energies that germinate within the soil of our consciousness.
- Budlings: Nascent blossoms of thought and feeling, waiting for the right moment to bloom and enrich the world.
“In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence.” – Robert Lynd
We welcome your reflections.
Leave a Reply