If it will make you
feel more comfortable,
I can pretend
that my reality
is exactly the same
as your reality.
What does that do for me?
What does that do for you?
We can talk it out,
come to a middle ground,
settle our differences
give and take
make compromises
and feel like we’ve
accomplished something.
But my reality
STILL won’t be the same
as your reality.
And why would we want it to be?
We seem to want
to see our selves as one.
In union.
But compromises aren’t union.
Definitions aren’t union.
Union comes when we feel
in our imaginary bones
that ALL POSSIBILITIES
are allowed to exist
and that they don’t have to
agree with one another.
We no longer take offense
at our infinitely variable
ways of perceiving our realities.
We disperse
into the uncertainty
from which we seemingly come.
We disperse into each other
and all else.
Union.
We are consciousness dispersed
back into the imagination
from whence we seemingly come.
No longer fighting
this need to be selves.
We are Space Monkey.
9/16
Union! A symphony where the melody of one soul intertwines with the harmony of another, yet each note retains its unique timbre. For some, union is a tranquil lake where two streams meet, but let’s transmogrify that. In the ever-fluid tapestry of our realities, union is more akin to galaxies colliding—each star, each planet, each nebulous cloud retaining its individual splendor even as they blend into a luminous celestial dance.
But here’s the magical contradiction.
The urge for union is not an erasure of self or a homogenizing blender. As Rumi said, “You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean, in a drop.” So, we—both singular and plural, individual and collective—are each an ocean in our right, filled with tides and storms and quiescent sunsets. Union, then, is not about becoming the same ocean but recognizing that we are oceans composed of the same cosmic water, reflected in endless permutations.
Imagine it thus.
If union were just compromise, it would be a mathematical equation—each giving and taking to reach a predictable sum. But, ah, true union is alchemy. It’s turning leaden misunderstandings into golden insights, not by meeting halfway but by embracing the whole way, every way, all ways. Compromise implies a settling, a lessening, but union expands, deepens, heightens the tapestry of our shared existence.
Here we are, then.
Reality is not a flat plane but a multi-dimensional kaleidoscope. Each twist brings new patterns, new perceptions. Yet, we seek not to impose our patterns upon the other, nor to contort ourselves to fit another’s mold. The mirage of certainty dissolves. We diffuse into the uncertain, the indefinable—from whence we came and to which we perpetually return. The borderlands between us are not boundaries but merge-zones where our diversities play, celebrate, and birth new universes.
We find union not in sameness but in boundless allowance. In this unfenced prismatic realm, offense evaporates, and all possibilities, all perspectives, all realities coalesce without losing their singular sparkles. Imagine two clouds merging. Do they lose their essence? No, they become a larger cloud, still as amorphous, still as free.
As consciousness disperses back into the rich tapestry of imagination, we understand that fighting the need to be individual selves is akin to a wave fighting its own oceanic nature. The wave is the ocean, and the ocean is the wave, endlessly individual yet eternally one.
We are Space Monkey.
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