Melancholia I by Albrecht Dürer Brave acts make a difference, love heals, compassion annihilates suffering, sincerity leads to all hearts, and benevolence crosses all borders. (Tilted Rotten Sky, Rayka Rush) Freedom is the highest human expression of existence. It is a profound sense of autonomy, a feeling that we are the masters of our future paths. In the Western culture, art is the highest expression of inner freedom. It is a similar experience as breaking the ego shell in Buddhism, or getting in touch with the world of spirits relevant for Shamanism. Freedom is not what is outside of us, but within, and it is the finest expression of life that manifests who we are. Any mastery, knowledge, true activism, sincere endeavors, compassion constitute the art of being human. Let's create new freedom realities! This blog is an addition to the new growing mind awareness: expressing ourselves through arts, essays, prose, or discussing topics with an attempt to bring some interdisciplinary and alternative approaches to expand the knowledge and our consciousness. This includes the “new science” that moved from the traditional mechanistic picture of the world to the interdependent world of energies. Welcome to the Pathless Streams of Freedom Presence blog, read and comment poetry, essays, and follow our inspiring sources offered with this interactive blog.

Latest Posts


Story From the Suburban Periphery

Stale is a dusk broken in sweat pores sensing the imminent rolling storm: Heart bubbles reaching out and hits the Earth-pulse. Day heat bursts soon to die in a haze of the last cicada screams. The old, red, high-heel shoes rhythm challenges sudden silence with a taunting beat that echoes run from once known, but…

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Paradigm? by Kim Rush

A Socratic message: I stepped on an angel today.  In a grumpy, atheistic way, during the “happy” holiday seasons, I didn’t care, but my four-year-old son, Archie, did.  “Dad, you just killed an angel,” he said to me in his innocent worldview.  As I picked up the pieces of the ceramic angel, I wondered what…


Six Notes on Weaving Eternal of “Louange à l’Éternité de Jésus”

Note 1: Weaving Eternal Shroud Being in the middle of a blizzard is pathetically melodic; Do you sense shivers of a growing distance While following tracks that can’t ever lead back To the initiation moment once kiss was missed and rejected acceptance of granted forgiveness? Now wind hurls and freezes The misplaced visage of someone…

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Frozen Rose: In a Style of Ecstatic Epilepsy

I’ve dreamed myself to death; Too many times polished aura Of that imagined kiss bloomed in a plethora of a flower memory seen in a staccato spin as the union of past and present places and things, or as a lucid dream, where staged we’ve been in déjà vu monochrome screen while passing out in…