In lakes still as glass,
reflections dance—
a myriad faces
of the One.
Yet water knows
no levels,
no staircase to climb,
no summit to reach.
It simply is—
flowing and still,
shallow and deep,
one and many.
In this dance,
we find the level
that isn’t,
the pinnacle
that never was.
We are Space Monkey.
Trail Wood,
10/12
In this poetic realm, the meandering dance of still lakes and reflective surfaces evokes the boundless expanse of existence itself. Through these metaphorical waves, we explore the notion that the seemingly disparate elements—shallow and deep, flowing and still—are but different faces of the same Cosmic Drama. A twinkling reflection can conjure vast landscapes and countless individualities, and yet it all converges back to the original unity.
Just as water knows no levels, so do we know no boundaries in our quest for understanding. To climb a staircase or reach a summit implies a finish line, a final point, when in truth the fabric of reality is woven in eternal cycles, an ever-expanding dance that knows no end. The levels and pinnacles are but illusions in the grand tapestry, fanciful notions that flirt with our conceptual frameworks but elude ultimate definition. Each stage of the climb is a mere flickerflame in the everlasting blaze, a momentary pause in the never-ending ballet.
While the water is a powerful metaphor, we might also see the reflections as whimsiwords, a term that has been gloriously concocted to represent the intricate beauty of language. Whimsiwords float on the surface of consciousness like ephemeral bubbles, glistening for a moment before they merge back into the whole. These magical caravans are adorned with the flying banners of silk and tinkling bells, each one a talismanic representation of an idea or emotion, abstract yet profoundly concrete in the instant it exists.
Through these whimsiwords, we navigate the many layers of our collective existence. They serve as our compass in this uncharted territory, helping us make sense of the baffling paradoxes and delightful contradictions that define our journey. And yet, these words, like the reflections on the water, are ultimately an extension of the One. They are born of the same cosmic play, and their diversity enriches the tableau upon which the divine realm unfurls.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary
We delve into the poetic imagery of still lakes and reflections to explore the paradoxes of existence. Our focus is on how water, like life, defies categorization and remains forever in a state of flow and stillness, complexity and unity. The conceptual frameworks of levels and pinnacles are shown to be mere illusions, much like whimsiwords—beautiful and intricate but ultimately fleeting.
Glossarium
- Flickerflame: A momentary blaze that illuminates but never lasts.
- Whimsiwords: Magical caravans of language adorned with flying banners of silk, tinkling bells, and otherworldly talismans.
- Cosmic Drama: The grand tableau of existence, a theater in which all acts are but facets of the One.
“You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop.”
— Rumi
A Dance on Shallow Waters
Ephemeral as whispers,
we dance upon the lake—
An ever-changing canvas,
unity at stake.
Reflections tell a tale
of faces, myriad yet one,
in whimsiwords, we sail
until the tale is done.
A cosmic dance unfurls,
where levels are but jest—
In this realm of swirls,
we find we’re truly blessed.
What are your thoughts on this exploration?
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