Tag Archives: Belief

Under The Canopy Of Zeus

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We are surrounded by arcs of light, spheres of confluence and influence, yet we fail to collectively notice the brilliance, the animate force within and without. The genius loci of the local expressions, the moss on stone holds the truth of your memories, mirrors for the moment. Cosmic radiations reflecting photosynthetic gradiations, the macro-scopia needs the micro-scopia as much as the micro-neisacs needs the macro-nesiacs. The world(s) needs your attention, your directed gaze, your passionate intensities. So lay down your qualms, your arms, your worries and doubts, cross reference the books with the trees, and the trees with the books. Invaluable is the imaginative—generative— creative—compassionate—reciprocal—investigative—logical processes of the universe becoming known. On the seventh day, when we rest our beliefs our conceptualizations of what we thought we knew with what is becoming known.

-Joshua Fleming

Image by: Unknown, Nikola Tesla is quietly reading under the canopy of Zeus, storms of activity, thoughts electric becoming known.

Wisdom Speaks Not

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The wise do not know more than you or I, nor do they have some right for our wrongs. The wise know that our perceptions our blighted, obscured by what stories we have crafted. Before thought echoed and returned from the dark mountain, its appearance was of a vasty different shape and form.

-Josh Fleming

Image by: Elfie Kalfakis

https://elfiekalfakis.com/visual-art/collage/

Rumination’s On The House Of Spheres:

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A Discourse On The Nature Of Things

A Manifesto of Humor and Its Place as Possibly the Highest Form of Philosophical Reasoning and Knowing

If ever you come upon some quieted suspicions, that maybe, just maybe the Universe(s), is just merely an accidental expression of itself, or a fucked up physics experiment in the lab of some alien adolescents basement, a conversation between a madman and deranged woman, a monocular-myopic all seeing eye-grey bearded overlord, a polyphasic panoply of interchanging waves and particles-expressions of a flower and seahorse, or of a Hindu and Canadian, or a frisbee stuck upon the roof, that becomes a belief system constructed possibly under the influence of mind-bending intoxicates and recreational sport, aptly called “Frisbeetarianism: the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck.”, or an explosive corrosive interpenetration of hostel and loving forces of which we have to attempt to mitigate, by syphoning and straining the alchemical bad bloods with that of good, or possibly that it is all of these things and much more, possibly that it holds or contains or rearranges its many houses, just as we shed our sense of fashion statements, possibly it has one of the most, dare I say dark, witty, loving, adaptive, creative, imaginal and ever expansive sense of humor(s) than you or I could ever afford to grasp, then at least your suspicions may rest in the moments of your most uproarious laughter that floods your every vein, as all the rivers, tributaries and streams of your being collapse together in a precious moment of spontaneous acceptance of that very moments occurrence, the kind of laughter thats painful in the gut, that makes you weep, and stretches a smile across your entire being. The kind of moment that can be found not only in laughter, but in silence, in dream, in conversation, in creative explorations of art and science, in religions and spiritualities, in the birth of a child, in learning how to walk tall again, the kind of moment when all of the Adams-Atoms and Eves-Electrons come together to say hello and that your doing just fine, to keep up the good work, to honor this sense of expression, that is a form of quasi-zen-enlightenment in that in the moment of full on engagement, the worries, doubts, and theories, all fuck off and allow you and possibly that of others surrounding to participate in a shared sense of much needed unity and in a compassionate attentive, “Creative-Expression” of release and containment.

At the end of any manifesto worth its weight I believe a belief system should be constructed in its honor and then quickly burned away in a effigy of itself before any one person could fatally-choke or swallow the contents, thereby absorbing a distorted sense of nutrition that becomes a diet and not a medicine, reorienting its meaning, internalizing some half-truth to lead them upon, walking their thoughts out on a leash, pissing on anyone else’s fire, anyone else that thinks otherwise.

In lieu of creating a proper cultish-religious-unorganized architecture I have developed a concept that may be used I believe without any unwanted side-effects, yet please consult your own self-reflective questioning authoritarian of a maturated perfectly groomed sense of ego, or even your astral-ass-hole brother or sister of a soul before administering these words.

To be of Creative-Humorousa is to simply be a part of being a humorousa-disciplinarian or of Humorousive-Disciplinarianism, whereby any entity is allowed to freely and openly engage in the activity of divining compatible humorousive qualities which may corrode or degrade divisive, cynical, or proper-reality sets, to interchange ideas and values, to shape-shift into the seat of your opposite or enemy and say damn I see your point, but I don’t find your chair that comfortable, or just to simply laugh at your inability to fully grasp even the concepts as they dribble off your chin, its also respecting and expecting a return from laugher, to take seriously your work in this life, to move towards some creative legacy that is of your own making, but to also occasionally to enjoy Saturday Morning Cartoons and Sugar Coated Cereals, further more Susan I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised that they all were smoking themselves in the pipe of their own making, to be of and in this Creative-Humorous Temple is to hold a suspicion of beliefs, but welcome any possible faith(s) to instruct or reorder your present syntax, if you are in need of such a tune-up to be performed, a balancing of worn out tire treads, as the roads of life are gravely, dusty and full of shitty pot holes and also full of opportunities that can only exist and present themselves within the same dirty pools laying stagnate in the shitty pot holes of existence itself, for in and along these roads is where we may learn of love through hate, learn of life through death, learn of light through darkness, always try and remember that life and existence maybe of a humorous yet disciplined view of unfathomable creation(s), this may allow you to better adapt to various reality subsets as you continue to wind down your path. So make sure not to forget your “towel”,  for it will be deep, you are going to get wet and very cold in the process, of learning how to swim, but you eventually will find some shore to rest upon for awhile, to warm you bones and to contemplate by the fire of your own making, then to shed yourself of that old skin and swim naked and freely back into that abyss.

-Josh Fleming

Inspired by the Music of: RUSH

Image of: Stockhausen performing at Expo ’70, West German Pavilion, Osaka, Japan, 1970.

Arrivals

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How did we get here, where are we going? Our Beliefs are but a whisper, in a language we can not fully understand, 10,000 doors nailed shut without a key. Faith, is the one that was left open, for anyone willing to let go of their Beliefs. The Universe does not summon us through fear, or blind indifference, it simply calls us home when it is time, to enter where no exits shall exist. Death is not some question to ponder upon, some mere in-existence, a night without its morning, but one to relinquish, as life is the answer to our every departure.

-Josh Fleming

Image by: Rose Richards

https://www.behance.net/gallery/34786727/What-We-Are-Made-Of-Dreams

The Investigation

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Embrace the wicked majesty, the death and the madness, the open fields and the silence. Become the road that you walk upon, realize your reason. If shadows remain, take shelter with the sun. Be afraid not of what dwells in the darkest corners, as darkness is only a shade of brightest the truth. The light is revealed to those without arms, standing without defense, naked and alive. Swallow the abyss, become the awe, the beauty, the chaos. We must dance within the shattered mirror to see the reflection of the child. The growth of all things rests within what is willing to release its grasp. To swim into the deep churning, to spiral through black lit waters, to find what was pulling us from afar. The union of opposites, as all things bleed into one. The fingerprints smeared across the surface, to identify the maker, the murder, the weapon, the mass destruction, memory is rebuilding the structures, the evolution of divinity is the death of belief, trust from within, this is a process.

– Josh Fleming

Image by: Jonathan Mccabe

http://www.jonathanmccabe.com