Tag Archives: Physics

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Light transverses the vehicle of its messenger, in an ocean of information we only drift at the surface.

-Joshua Fleming

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Under The Canopy Of Zeus

www.krishnapath.org

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.

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.

The Supposition of Superpositions:

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The ordinary is introduced to its transcendent dance partner.

May it be that the transcendent experience that occurs seemingly outside of the ordinary experience is Schrödinger’s half dead cat or half alive, or Heisenberg’s not so sure of principle. A quantum entangled tongue, in which language becomes twisted upon its own axis, if it tries to speak of such things. Position and momentum cannot be precisely known, not as individual variants, not as separate particulate expressions, only as one fully involved,  fully evolved, ever informed, whole-fully individuated state, what is the hand and that of the spinning top. That stilled yet beating heart of the black half-dead cat is in-flamed and in-souled, in the process of reaching across that vast expansive unknown table, to pour another cup of tea and finish writing this plea for sanity. May it be in some position in time that the momentum of the soul catch’s up to the position of our ordinary state of mind, or that our ordinary momentum slides into its expansive frame to behold such a view, never truely lost in-between the dusty kitchen blinds. That the ordinary processes can become a resurrected effigy burning away all sense of meaningless mundane propensities, putting on the seventh day suit of the soul, as the alchemic static clings to the shoulder of a man leaning, bowing his head to untangle the twisted and frayed knots, to learn to walk within this shadow and no longer beside it.

-Josh Fleming

Image by: Unknown, possibly a half-dead, half-alive artist, yet Im leaning towards the latter in his or her penciled expression of a concept that eludes our present understanding, yet informs perfectly well by visual incantations the truths of its appearance.

Shit Happens

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Accidents seem to happen all around us at any given moment, shit just happens. Sometimes its good and sometimes its bad, depending on how we wish to see view it. Occasionally as some theorists say, a Universe also just happens, and then lots of good and bad shit starts to occur within its ever expanding evolutionary cycle of shit happening. Some fear this idea of shit happening, thinking about our place in the world as a mere accident of random processes at work. However if we look closer at this theory of the Great Accident aka, shit happening, the fire in the lab of creation if you will, we can see something emerging from this cosmology that is truly remarkable and awe inspiring. Here we are, Conscious, at least most of the time, self-reflecting emissaries of light and energy formed together to ask such questions as who and why we exist in all this chaos and what where gonna do with the time we are given. That is to say everything in existence is the pure essence of beauty wrapped up in the chaos. However we wish to view it, we give purpose to the purposeless and a name to our very being. We have the ability to shape and co-create what this story is to be, as it is being told. Saying that there is no design or architect behind the process is just saying that no preordained dictator exists and therefore allows a natural spontaneous creative process to unfold in and of itself. Just as we define our visual arts with varying degrees of styles, so we to are defining and telling the cycle of creation itself as this shit happens. The Universe gives us the faculties of our mind, the emerging hemispheres, where as the right holds are empathy, creativity, and intuition, as the left holds are languages, sciences and focused intent. When balanced we achieve a hightened sense of consciousness and well being, as so does the Universe.  If it is true that we are an Accident, mere shit smeared across the windows of a dreaming cosmos fast asleep at the wheel, it doesnt seem so bad after all if you really think of it. As we are the Universe staring back at itself, seeing and describing our own features through the confluence of all time and space. Evolution is learning to talk, accidents will happen, sometimes bad and sometimes good. Its up to us to decide how this story will end.

– Josh Fleming

Image by: María Ley 

https://www.behance.net/gallery/22108911/Milky-Way

Bending Space And Time In A Continuum

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The Möbius strip turns within the great gyrations of time, rushing past our lives. I will come to find you again, on the same side of the other, that bends our beliefs and suspends an end that never begins. The places may change, as with our names, but I will find you just the same, in the heart that beats as my own.

– Josh Fleming

Image from the album art for: Emeralds, Does It Look Like I’m Here?

Don’t Worry We Are Normal

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We consist of only 5% of the known universe, as we have been told; Normal matter is what we are called. Dark matter holds title to 27% of the expanding real estate, while Dark energy reigns King claiming the rest. Are we not then the lucky few, gathered around to witness this perplexing, but utterly amazing sense of existence? I will keep my 5%, the hell with the other 95%. It’s just not Normal. Enjoy the view.

– Josh Fleming

Image by: Florian Breuer

http://floriansphotographs.blogspot.com/