So . . . it appears that it has begun, this thing that I have been doing for a very long time is coming together, somehow all the pieces trickling into place. I have at least ten projects started. I have been working on them a piece at a time for several years. Anyway, this…
Author: thephilosophersbrush
I share what I am driven to write and paint and photograph.
Day One, Friday, November 13, 2020
Today is the day that I say, “fuck it.” Fuck it. I am so tired of the esoterica, which in the back of my 57-year-old mind is capitalized because it was (is?) a product used to fade dark spots on OLD hands and faces. So here I am. Years and years of studying mythology and…
Letters to Me 3/30/2020: Fear and Soothing in Pandemic America
Anything in brackets was inserted while editing and added only for clarity. The painting matched with this I painted in December, 2018 Monday, March 30, 2020; 13:02 So I asked for the truth, and I opened YouTube, which is the [one-sided] salon of the 21st century, or one of them. There are opinions on just…
Premeditated Post-pandemic Epiphany
In this unprecedented time
Consider that your mind
Has no memory of this
A time you couldn’t kiss
Letters to Me 12/18/2019
I know that there is a source, though. And whether that source is God, or love or an 8th dimensional me playing a fucked up video game as its 3rd dimensional shadow, or whether I
Ascension
This is the first journal entry in the blog. These are the actual words that are hand written in one of so far four notebooks. I began writing in these notebooks just before the dawn of 2020. They are filled with poetry and diagrams and very little personal data of my mundane existence. Whatever is in brackets I added for clarity. I gotta quit fucking around and get this show on the road.
Uncharted Moderation
Getting to this blog required moderation. That song, All or Nothing at All, fairly summed up the meter of flow which drummed the rhythm of my life. It is as of the writing of this that I have stepped off into the unknown, knowing that not only do I not know what I don’t know,…
If Words Brought Blood
I do not look for love by making psychic incisions and feeding on the emotion that drips out. I do not look for love by trying to make people happy so that they grace me with the kind words of synthetic love. I look for love inside. I go through me to connect with Source/God/All/Spirit/That Energy Source That Quantum Mechanics Cannot Name. Pure love feels sweet and warm and wrings gratitude that chemical love cannot. I choose real love as my energy source.
We Must Begin Someplace
After that experience, I was never again certain if I just dreamed my entire existence. When it didn’t seem like a dream, life seemed like being in a movie.
The Philosopher's Brush 