Tag Archives: Zen

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.

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The centipede replied: I do not manage them.

One who forces their way to power, will touch no food. One who moves with the stream, the rarest of fruits. They made no history, rulers, with simple branches, trembling in heavy snows, far from honor and wealth, they cling to a root that does not grow.

What am I under Heaven, shall I act as if I were something. All is movement. Three thousand years, midnights precious shrine. To leave a sacred shell, shrouded in incense, or to go on dragging the tail in the mud.

To distinguish the tip of a hair, the horse travels hundreds of miles, relative is our view. Of fullness and emptiness, how can one compare. One does not rejoice in completion nor lament in beginning. The revolution is not over, birth and death are even, the terms are not final.

-Josh Fleming; Remixing Thomas Mertons translations of Chuang Tzu

Image by: Oystein Sture Aspelund

On Being Aware

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An impression of inference, to know reality without ideas to decipher it, predictions in the forecast, “everyone will die”. Death cannot hold the present, futures are abstract, inescapable noise manufactures the vicious circle. Vague nebulous symbols produce the nectars of our insatiable desires, the by-products of our existence create an atmospheric haze, shadowing the real. Exploited and stripped for parts, things bleed from the stream of our nervous strain. Fantastic is the sound of silence, deafening the thoughts that dance around the center. To discover peace in knowing, without measure, without circumference or boundary to identify it by. All experience and wisdom dissolves in the light of non-action, to be contained by nothing, but beheld by everything.

-Josh Fleming

Most words inspired and rearranged from The Wisdom Of Insecurity, by Alan W. Watts

The Purpose Is In Its Place

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Watching a time-lapse of broken pictures, other lives seemingly being fulfilled, as we fail to realize what is our own. What is always with us, yet so often left trailing behind, or placed so far from our grasp, yet it is always here, always greeting us upon every turn, engulfing us in presence and purpose. If we cease to remember this, this patient and persistent truth, what can be sensed and known, we shall forget to fulfill the purpose in its place. Our lives seemed to be organized by chaos and fate, pleasure and pain, courage and fear, yet beyond our many chapters of regret and redemption, life is rewriting a moment to be fully actualized. If we are aware of this occurrence, become apart of its appearance, everything will be in its place. Purpose will drive us to meet this reality, as it is, directions will be waiting with the leaves on the ground.

-Josh Fleming

White Trunk

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We are here, never there, if only we could see this as so, come to appreciate the moments given, to hold gratitude in heart for what sustains its rhythm, to appreciate the moments given, if only we could see as it is, not as it has been spoken, to invest our entirety in the wholeness of what is becoming reborn in this very moment. Bless…

-Josh Fleming