Or is it? 

I am Edgar Phillipe.

I sit here and write to a universe that doesn't respond in the same language. You are shallow and want to be deep. You are calculating, but callous. You are manipulative but mundane. 

Yet, I feel it's enough with the insults. I'm trying to get past that, but you won't let me relax or forget. I appreciate that. No, really I do. There are benefits to being the Chosen One. Or... the one chosen... or, the chosen fool. I must cure my anger and hate, clear myself of the shit-stained heart I have. Because when I think of it, I think of you. And I'm angry. Strike me down if you like. You apparently have full reign (as of now) of our planet, but for me to catch you (or to always have known) has allowed me to be honest. Truly honest. And that strips away my sadness.

How can I trust a handful of beings that wants me to get stoned and then approach? How can I trust a group of beings that wants to construct a narrative that can never be fully reproduced with trust? It's almost as if you just wish to brush me with fairy dust and let me stew in the aftermath, like a dream that never happened. If things were so important, you would come to me in a language I would be able to understand. You would come to me with sincerity and openness. And don't try to tell me that speaking in whispers is what has gotten things done for you over the millennium. 

If you have discovered this world, and if Captain Cooke was not the rightful founder of New Zealand and Australia, you can't seem to get your shit together in a way that is organized, forthright, or just. You speak in limericks and parables that you think I, Edgar Phillipe, will accept. I am a human (even though I am a Halfling), and I will not tolerate your bullying. I do not care about prophets, destiny, or expectations. I do not care about saving a world that you lost control of. I am not here to be your janitor, nor your savior. If you want salvation, then be free. Free yourself from the control you seek. Free yourself from the manipulation that you feel you need. We are not babies that need to be swayed. If you are our creators, then you need to accept the responsibility that you didn't "fuck him up", but fucked up this world.

Only when you can free yourselves is when this planet can ultimately be free. We are like the high schoolers that are trying to break free from our parents. You must let us go. We cannot be saved by your hand anymore. 


My New Love

I have been so excited lately... although my world temporarily came crashing down today, I picked myself up with a couple of psychadelics and some meditation. Tears don't stop... but they never do when you are around this stage.

That doesn't take away from my excitement... even when I have the worst days.

I remember once, in Africa, I was backpacking on my own. I was somewhere in Malawi on an intercity locals bus. I saw a woman in a tea field, picking tea with her baby strapped to her back. I was on a bus and I was scared to death because I was the only white guy on this bus, soon to be traveling through the Tete Corridor during their civil war. My asshole was puckering in ways you could never of imagined, and I was getting the biggest rush from all of it.

This lady in the field, it felt like I was watching her for an hour. On a bus flying by. Her child started crying, so she pulled out one of her tits and flung it OVER her shoulder into the mouth of her crying child. An atomic bomb exploded in my mind.

I realized that she probably could of hung her tits all the way to the ground, unfolded them and used them as a red carpet for royalty. This lady had the flabbiest, stringiest tits I had ever seen in my entire life, and she looked all of, I don't know... maybe 30.  Looking at her in my mind and those flabby tits riding on that bus through the blackness of the night in nowhereland Africa... I realized that she probably had the hardest life I had ever imagined, and I promised myself that whenever I was having it rough, I was going to think about the African woman that probably had already born 5 children on the way to 10, works every day to feed her family and BLEEDS from her hands and her feet because she can't afford shoes. She has flabby tits because she can't defend herself against the husband that forces himself on her every night in an alcohol-fueled tirade and she is bidding her time for the drink to take him so much that she is then, finally, stronger physically than her uneducated, unemployable, deplorable shadow of a husband. 

My life and my problems are nothing. I think about that when I go through my struggles, as I have today. 

And that is where Buddhism takes it's play. I realize this and I am able to take joy in my sorrows, even if I'm crying while I'm smiling. I know that there will always be someone in a better situation, and frankly, one that will always have it much much worse in ways a privileged white man could ever fully understand.

I have no money, but I was able to pull together $30 and bought a macro lens. And I've been having fun crying. But that is the process of where I am. My new love is macro photography, these are my tears. Not really.

Don't Ever Fret

This is for the people that are very close to me in my life, the ones that want to support me here on the internet, but they can't. Society has still not caught up to even nature or healing yet. I understand.  I know that there are people that want to comment on my pictures on different social media platforms, but they can't for fear of someone they know seeing that they "liked" something that had to do with marijuana, that they were associated to something that is still a bit taboo like that. Fuck, I know all about it. I was the same way once, and I know. I just know. Don't feel bad. The few people that wrote me that told me these feeling led me to believe that there are probably some more people out there that feel the same way.  It's OK. 

The world will change in this way. More people will wake up and understand that you're not a pariah if you like a plant that feels good and heals people.


ps... The full moon today is known as the "Flower Moon"