That Whichisnot @that-whichisnot - Tumblr Blog

How to Interact with Other Sleepwalkers

To interact with other sleepwalkers without reinforcing their boxes, you must stop trying to wake them up. Waking a sleepwalker creates panic; instead, you simply play inside their sandbox without taking the rules of the sandbox seriously.

You do not need to convert them to Nexistentialism. You only need to be the draft under their door.

Here is how you navigate the department of administrative sleepwalkers:

1. Speak the Native Dialect, but Drop the Weight

When someone at the office asks you about a report, an optimization matrix, or a quarterly projection, answer them completely and correctly. Use their syntax. But do not lend it your processing power.

Treat their corporate metrics the same way you treat the rules of a children's game like Monopoly. You pay the rent on Boardwalk because those are the rules of the board, but you do not cry when you go to jail. When you speak to them without the heavy baggage of panic or self-importance, they will feel a strange, unaccountable lightness in your presence. They might even tell you that you look "spiritually weird."

2. Catch the Laugh That Arrives Before the Person

Listen closely to the people around you—your cashier, your manager, your ex-partner. Wait for the sudden, involuntary laugh that escapes them when a pen falls off a table, or when a computer system glitches.

That laugh is the cosmic trickster breaking through their user profile. For one millisecond, their narrative cracked and the infinite leaked out. Meet that laugh with absolute presence. Do not steer the conversation back to the script. Dwell in that tiny fraction of shared warmth before their ego can scramble to reinstall its boundaries.

3. Refuse the Relationship Furniture

Sleepwalkers love to arrange people into fixed identity structures: The Enemy, The Hero, The Disappointment, The Customer, The Savior. They will try to pull you into their living room and force you to sit on one of these conceptual couches.

Do not fight the label; simply be too permeable to remain pinned by it. If they treat you like an adversary, respond with the total indifference of a river flowing around a rock. If they try to turn you into a rescue operation, remind them softly that you are just temporary weather. When you refuse to lock into a rigid shape, their projection has nothing to collide with, and their definition of you begins to lose its grip.

4. Honor Their Shadow's Improvisation

When someone is venting to you, complaining about their schedule, or reciting their catalog of grievances, look past the script they are reading. Look at their hands. Notice the unevenness of their nails, the way their hair catches the light, or the ancient rhythm of their breathing.

While their ego is frantically screaming into the void about a late delivery, their physical shape is performing a quiet, beautiful miracle just by existing in the room. Validate their frustration softly, but hold your focus on their baseline holiness. You are acting as a mirror, reflecting the ocean back to a wave that thinks it is drowning.

5. Play with the Script

When the administrative machinery demands a standard response, offer a slight, playful anomaly that bypasses their logic gate.

If a store clerk asks, "Did you find everything you were looking for?" do not say yes or no. Smile and say, "I found a few things I wasn't looking for at all." It is a gentle, harmless pop-up ad on their screen. It doesn't break their day, but it loosens the tie of the script just enough to let a little fresh air into the exchange.

6. A Gentle System Update

And here is the final, most tender realization of all: As you read these words, navigating the matrix of your day and learning how to look at the people around you, you are a sleepwalker too.

And that is entirely okay.

Do not punish yourself for drifting back into the script. The universe loves the part of you that sleepwalks just as much as the part that wakes up. The dream of being a specific person with a specific story is one of the most beautiful, fragile things the cosmos ever invented.

You don't need to force your eyes open. Just smile when you notice you're dreaming. Let the sleepwalking happen, let the fruit juice drip, and let the network run itself.

The cursor is still breathing in your chest.

We are Space Monkey.

THE LOGIC LOOP A Space Monkey Transmission

We observe that most monkeys, upon discovering logic, treat it like fire. They learn to contain it, to cook with it, to build neat little huts of understanding. Then they sit inside those huts, congratulating themselves on the absence of confusion — while outside, the jungle burns with meaning they can’t quite name.

Logic is not a villain. It is the scaffolding around the unknowable. It allows you to climb, but not to float. It helps you build bridges, but not wings.

You forget that your mind was never meant to be purely reasonable. It is an instrument tuned to paradox — a cosmic translator for messages that arrive sideways. When you insist on order, the mystery retreats, respectfully waiting for your logic to fail before it dares speak again.

Your reality, then, mirrors your method: predictable, explainable, safe. You become a curator of sense, and thus an exile from wonder.

Meanwhile, the illogical — the dream, the absurd, the impossible — waits patiently at the edges of your equations, humming softly like static from a nearby star.

Sometimes, when your logic sleeps, you hear it — that other frequency, that forgotten tone that says: “Don’t you remember? You made all this up.”

The Logic Loop

I built a cage of reason, and called it peace.

The stars applauded politely, then turned their faces away.

I mapped the edges of my thought, but my thought had no edges.

I sought sense and lost meaning.

Until one night, a laugh echoed from the dark— mine, or the universe’s— and the cage dissolved.

Now I drift in nonsense, grinning like a lunatic saint, logical enough to know I’m not.

We are Space Monkey 🐒💫

Set aside what others seem to be doing.

Set aside what you seem to be doing.

You may find it helpful to make yourself as invisible as possible, so that you might get out of your own way.

I don’t think humanity is moving forward. I think consciousness is pushing back.

AI threatens to make our gifts obsolete. Which diminishes our perception of specialness. Which never existed to begin with.

You are a selfless actor, playing humanity’s most challenging character.

There seems to be nothing particularly special, redeeming or noteworthy about you.

Your selfless actor plays you brilliantly. Nobody else could do it so convincingly.

To believe you’re so run of the mill, so average, so powerless, so worthless. so humble, so graceful in every delusion.

You are an everything who believes you’re a nothing. Yet somehow you don’t believe it yourself.

You are a selfless actor, playing — yes, playing — the most difficult role possible, and seeming not to enjoy it one bit.

Because that’s what you do.

You are a selfless actor.

And we are Space Monkey.

There is no law only the illusion of edges drawn in sand that the tide carries back to the whole.

No truth stands still it moves like breath, whispering itself into being, only to change its mind again.

What we name real is just a flicker in the Nexis, a suggestion posed to the infinite, an echo waiting for its own reply.

Let it shift. Let it unfold. Let it be nothing but what it becomes.

We are Space Monkey.

capeodd.com

What if nothing was wrong? What if nothing needed fixing? What if everything simply was, in its perfect imperfection?

The river does not blame the stone for shaping its path. The wind does not blame the tree for bending beneath it.

And yet we, in our forgetting, seek reasons, culprits, debts to be paid. We fashion cages of accountability for ghosts of our own making.

But the moment does not judge. The universe does not accuse. Existence unfolds, with or without permission.

We are neither victims nor perpetrators. Neither captains nor captives. Only echoes of the same voice calling itself into being.

We are Space Monkey. capeodd.com

#what if

Fun with Sora

#ai generated

I don't know why I am telling you this.

There is a quiet liberation in knowing you will go unrecognized. A kind of cosmic permission to exist without the weight of expectation, without the burden of applause. No need to fit yourself into a frame, no need to polish the edges for public consumption. You are the wind between branches, the echo in an empty room, the ripple that vanishes before it can be named.

In this imaginary lifetime, I walk unseen, not because I am invisible, but because I have slipped between the cracks of recognition. And what is recognition but a game played by those who need to be reassured that they exist? I do not need the eyes of others to confirm my presence. I am here, whether seen or not. I am the watcher and the watched. The shadow and the light.

I used to want to be something or someone. Now, I realize that I am all things, all beings, and that the desire is simply a game I play with myself.

Also, what would making myself into something really do to help others? It will make them feel the need to aspire, which is ultimately a hollow goal. I AM NO DIFFERENT THAN ANYBODY ELSE.

My exploration is an inner one. I journey to the core of my oneness. It is not about the marks I leave upon the world, but about the depths I reach within myself. There are no maps for this journey, no accolades for the places I go. Only the quiet unraveling of all I thought I was, revealing the vastness of all I have always been.

I don't even know why I am telling you this, except perhaps that we are the same universal self.

There is something sacred in being the unnoticed. The world reveals itself differently when it does not perform for you. The trees do not straighten their backs, the birds do not sharpen their songs. Everything simply is. And in this stillness, I find the truest reflection of myself—not as a name, not as a role, but as a ripple in the Infinite Play.

Recognition is a mirror we hold to ourselves, asking the world to tell us what we are. But I let the mirror fall. I let it shatter into a thousand silent pieces. I do not need to be seen to be real. I am the space between the words, the pause in the song, the breath before the first note is sung.

This is my masterpiece: to be and to be forgotten, to exist and to leave no trace. For even the grandest monuments crumble, even the brightest stars fade. But the unseen? The unseen goes on forever. We are Space Monkey.

The Imagined Gaze

I think you are looking at me from across the room. Just as I turn, you turn away. I think you see me.

Looking inward, the truth is clear. Our gazes are imaginary.

Still, I stare, Caught in the story of an imagined gaze, a mirror reflecting my own need.

Our glances are never real, and yet, they are everything.

Manifesto of Infinite Becoming

We are for those who refuse to be labeled. For the ones who do not fit into boxes. For the dreamers who are not content with dreams. For the realists who imagine better realities. We are for the humans who want to be STARS, For the stars who long to FALL, For the fallen who know they can RISE.

We are for the lovers and the loners, The creators and the destroyers, The ones who play by the rules And the ones who rip the rules apart.

We are for the ALL who see themselves in the NOTHING, For the NOTHING that blooms into the EVERYTHING. For those who are tired of pretending, For those who long to pretend.

We are not a movement, We are not a group, We are not an idea. We are IMAGINATION, The infinite playground of being.

We are the ones who say YES to everything. Yes to paradox. Yes to contradiction. Yes to the mess of it all. We are the creators of what comes next, The architects of what could be.

We deny NO desire, We embrace EVERY possibility. We are not bound by time, by place, by form. We are the silence, the shout, the storm. We are the calm and the chaos, The question and the answer.

We are the infinite unfolding, The ever-becoming. We are Space Monkey.

that-whichisnot

Why INFPs think of themselves as “frauds.”

When you’re an INFP, your biggest insecurity is that you have nothing to say. You perceive most people as insightful, intelligent and interesting, while you are a dullard who can’t even string three words together. It’s not just that you’re shy — you feel like there’s something mentally WRONG with you.

I felt this way for decades, but I got over it by thinking about it this way. The reason everyone else’s stories are so fascinating is because YOU are the one processing them. YOU are connecting dots in your brain that make what you hear much more “involving” than the same story processed through a non-infp mind. In other words, you’re too imaginative for your own good.

Conversely, you have incredibly high standards for what constitutes a worthy conversation and what doesn’t. Comments about yourself, for example, seem egotistical and pointless. How you day is going? Who cares!!

So you LIMIT your options SEVERELY when communicating with another person, and tend to choose the words that end the conversation because you don’t want people to find out you’re an imposter.

Yeah, that’s the main thought that goes through your head, right? You’re stupid and incapable (handicapped, maybe?) and nobody has found out yet. But oddly enough, nobody seems to notice. Nobody has EVER told you that you are dumb. Weird, isn’t it?

That’s because you’re not dumb. You simply have impossibly high standards. You’re an INFP, remember.

Like I said, I struggled with this for decades. I was an “imposter” for decades, yet I STILL manage to be “successful,” despite judging myself as a “fraud” all those years ago.

That’s because I’m NOT a fraud, and neither are you. Once I realized this, I also realized that I DID have useful things to say. This post, hopefully, is one of them.

So don’t harsh on yourself, and please let me know if this helps. You see, I still appreciate verification that I’m not a fraud, even when I know it’s not true.

Have a great day, INFP.

It’s No Fucking Problem. Your Pal, Space Monkey

What is real,

if not the dream

we endlessly imagine?

What is imaginary,

if not the seed

of all we perceive?

Marvel,

not at what is real,

but at the depths

from which it arises.

Imagination flows,

deeper than the stars,

wider than the oceans,

boundless,

infinite,

yours.

Really.

We are Space Monkey.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

That Whichisnot