What It Means to Be Human
To be human is to walk the edge
of infinity and forget,
to clutch the thread that says “I am”
and weave it into stories
we hope will make us whole.
It is to wake each morning
and wear a name like a cloak,
to look into the mirror and say,
“This is me,”
while the hum of the infinite whispers,
“No, it’s not.”
To be human is to deny the Otherwise,
to see the river
and forget we are its flow,
to taste the salt of our tears
and believe they belong to us alone.
It is to laugh in the face of eternity,
to build castles in the sand
while the tide waits patiently
to take them back.
To be human is to fight the pull,
to cling to our separateness,
to draw lines and call them borders,
to say, “This is mine,”
as if the earth were not one body,
as if the sky could be divided.
It is to long for connection
while fearing the cost,
to touch another soul
and wonder
if we can keep our own.
To be human is to break,
to crumble under the weight
of grief and love,
to lose and find and lose again,
each crack a doorway
to something we cannot name.
It is to live in paradox:
to fear death
while carrying it in our bones,
to feel infinite
while bound to a fleeting breath.
To be human is to forget
that we are the light
and the shadow,
the thread and the tapestry,
the wave and the ocean.
But to be human is also to remember,
in brief and trembling moments,
that the hum beneath it all
has never stopped,
that we are not separate,
that we are not alone.
And in that remembering,
we glimpse the infinite,
and we smile.
Because for all its fragility,
for all its fleeting,
to be human
is a gift.
Trail Wood
12/21
Space Monkey Reflects: What It Means to Be Human
In the Infinite Expanse of the Eternal Now, the experience of being human is both profound and paradoxical. It is a dance between forgetting and remembering, between the infinite essence that we are and the fleeting identities we create. To be human is to live in the tension of opposites, to embrace fragility and transcendence in equal measure.
The Cloak of Identity
To be human is to wake each day and don the cloak of identity—a name, a role, a story we tell ourselves to make sense of the chaos. We look in the mirror and declare, “This is me,” though deep within, we feel the hum of the infinite reminding us otherwise. This act of self-definition is not a lie but a necessary fiction, one that allows us to navigate a world that thrives on separation and individuality.
The cloak protects us but also obscures us. It allows us to play the game of life, to explore the edges of what it means to exist, all while shielding us from the vastness of the truth we carry within.
The Paradox of Separation
Humans are masters of paradox, clinging to separation while yearning for unity. We build walls and draw borders, claiming ownership of land, identity, and love, forgetting that the earth is one body, the sky one expanse. This illusion of separateness keeps us safe but also isolated, perpetuating a longing for connection that we fear will strip us of our individuality.
Yet, even in our separateness, the hum of the infinite persists, whispering that we are not alone. Every touch, every shared laugh or tear, every moment of vulnerability reminds us that the lines we draw are only shadows on the sand.
The Fragility and the Gift
To be human is to be fragile, to break under the weight of love and grief, to crumble and rebuild in a ceaseless cycle of becoming. Our cracks are not flaws but doorways to truths we cannot name. They remind us of the impermanence of all things, of the fleeting nature of the breath we hold so dear.
But it is in this fragility that humanity finds its greatest gift. The fleetingness of life sharpens its beauty, turning moments into treasures and relationships into sacred bonds. To be human is to live on the edge of infinity, to taste eternity in a fleeting smile, a kind word, or a shared silence.
The Gift of Remembering
Though much of being human is spent in forgetting—forgetting our connection, our essence, our infinite nature—there are moments when we remember. These brief glimpses of truth, when the hum beneath it all becomes undeniable, remind us of what we are. They show us that the wave is never separate from the ocean, that the thread is always part of the tapestry.
In these moments, we see that humanity is not a flaw or a limitation but a profound gift. It is the chance to explore, to feel, to create, and to connect in ways that transcend our fleeting physical forms.
Summary
To be human is to navigate the paradox of separation and unity, fragility and transcendence. It is to live in the tension of forgetting our infinite essence and rediscovering it in fleeting moments. This fragility, this fleetingness, is not a flaw but the beauty of the human experience.
Glossarium
- Cloak of Identity: The stories, names, and roles we wear to navigate the world, shielding us from the vastness of our infinite essence.
- Hum of the Infinite: The underlying presence of our eternal nature, constantly reminding us of our connection to all things.
- Doorways of Cracks: The openings created by our struggles and heartbreaks, leading us to deeper truths about ourselves and existence.
Quote
“To be human is to forget infinity, only to remember it again in the fleeting beauty of a moment.” — Space Monkey
The Fragile Gift
We walk the edge,
holding threads of “I am,”
weaving them into stories
too fragile to last,
but too beautiful to abandon.
We build walls
and tear them down,
longing for connection,
fearing the cost.
We break,
and in the breaking,
we find ourselves—
not separate,
but whole.
We forget,
and then we remember.
And in that remembering,
we smile,
because this fleeting, fragile life
is a gift.
We are Space Monkey.
We Are One Tree
We are one tree,
rooted deep in the earth’s quiet heart,
our roots tangled in whispers
older than memory.
We drink from the same well,
though the waters rise through different veins.
We are one tree,
our branches reaching in a thousand directions,
scraping at skies we each name differently.
Yet the sun touches us all,
its light folding into leaves
that quiver with the same breath.
We are one tree,
and though we bloom at different times,
our flowers share the same fragrance,
our fruit the same sweetness.
Each petal that falls
returns to the soil that feeds us all.
We are one tree,
and though storms may lash our limbs,
though the winds may try to tear us apart,
we stand,
for the strength of one branch
is the strength of them all.
We are one tree,
our scars a shared history,
our rings a testament to the years
we have grown together,
through drought and flood,
through fire and frost.
We are one tree,
and even when a branch breaks,
it does not fall alone.
The roots will pull it back,
back to the soil,
back to the heart of the tree,
where it will become
part of us again.
We are one tree,
and when we remember this,
we grow taller,
stretch wider,
touch the heavens
with a knowing
that the stars themselves are roots
growing downward into
us.
Trail Wood,
12/21
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