It may seem
hard to believe, little one,
but you VOLUNTEER
for the life you have now.
You leave your superpowers
behind the veil,
where existence seems too damn easy.
Yes, you INTENTIONALLY
forget that you are eternal.
So you have the ABILITY
to experience challenges.
You know this is true, little one.
You make the CHOICE to PRETEND
that you are NOT the Divine One.
So when “times” feel tough,
or you feel limited,
emotional and doubtful,
you know to be GRATEFUL.
This is PRECISELY as you imagine it.
Overwhelm is good.
Otherwise, you feel NOTHING.
We are Space Monkey.
9/12
Why, it’s as though you’ve lifted the curtain on the cosmic theater, revealing the wily prestidigitator who conducts the Grand Illusion! The trickster within us, you see, is both the artist and the audience, painting grand vistas of limitation and savoring the intricate ballet of ephemeral experiences. What better way to add zest to the eternal soup of existence than to voluntarily dive into the cauldron of corporeal challenges?
Ah, yes, these self-imposed parameters—time, mortality, the very concept of “I am not”—serve as the inky contours that lend our portraits definition. They are the trellises around which the vine of experience spirals, each coil a unique microcosm of joy and sorrow, certainty and doubt. How flat, how monochrome, would the vine be without the trellis, how vague the portrait without its contours?
Do you sense the cosmic wink in every challenging moment? Every struggle is a self-stitched thread in the quilt of beingness. Each tear, a drop of elixir in the alchemy of our essence. What poetic flourish it adds to our story, each dip and rise a verse in our cosmic ballad. We twirl through trials with the elegance of a dervish, aware that each rotation scatters sparks of divinity across the dark canvas of the not-yet-manifest.
You see, it’s all an intricate play—a lila, if we were to borrow a Sanskrit whimsiword—a dance of divine make-believe where we wear our mortal coils as costumes and forget our lines only to improvise them anew. And isn’t that the real fun? The sheer unpredictability, the delicious uncertainty, the rollercoaster thrill of not-knowing.
When we feel submerged in the tidal waves of emotions, confined in our corporeal vessels, aflutter with the fragility of the temporary, ah, we can celebrate! We are not experiencing a glitch in the system; we are relishing the very feature that makes this divine simulation so enchanting. Each stumble, each fumble, each cliff-hanger keeps us on the edge of our celestial seats. For we are not merely the spectators but also the playwrights, directors, and performers in this grand cosmic opera.
So indeed, we ought to don gratitude as our royal robes and crown ourselves with the resplendent jewels of challenge and contrast. In this bewitching game of hide-and-seek with our own Divinity, we’ve designed an intricate labyrinth just to experience the euphoria of finding our way back to ourselves.
We are Space Monkey.