All Posts

Birds don’t use their wings only to fly but, also, for balance―just like us.

Metapsychosis is currently accepting essays, poetry, fiction, visual art, film, and music that explores the broad philosophical, existential, and spiritual questions relating to the rapid evolution of current AI technology…

From poetic aphorisms to a bold call for submissions on AI, this issue invites you to create, converse, and collaborate as we navigate the edge between imagination and transformation.

Mark your calendar for this sure to be stellar upcoming event (offered online and in person); and a call for papers that look at various ways of expressing integrality, drawing on of the work of Jean Gebser, Sri Aurobindo, Carl Jung, Teilhard de Chardin, or other “integral” thinkers.

Art for art’s sake is a dead end; art for heart’s sake is the way out.

A new series of gouache paintings that combine natural and geometric forms, exploring cycles of growth and momentum. Inspired by Tai Chi and the blossoming of flowers, these works manifest as the explosion of a geode or the life cycle of a bloom, driven by the commonality of momentum.

See Marjorie Kaye’s new series of paintings, “Millionth Wave Futurism,” at the Galataea Fine Art gallery, in Boston MA from May 5-28th, 2023.

In Geoffreyjen Edwards’ science fiction novel Plenum: The First Book of Deo, the Prologue tells us that we are about to experience the first act of young “gender-neutral” Vanu Francoeur’s triple-volume story. Which is also the first act of a 15-volume …

Prediction—or personal pose: / In the Age of AI / Poetry will be the last refuge / Of human language.

Now that #ai is colonizing / #writing, my mind goes back / to studying theory in the ’90s:

Combining instrumental virtuosity, compositional complexity, and lyrical depth, Tool’s Fear Inoculum deserves not just a listen, but repeated listenings.

A quietly provocative story about a cellist who leaves the musical profession and finds a job preparing dead bodies for burial.

Our friends at Collaboration Journal share the following announcement: The Sri Aurobindo Association has received donations for one-year gift subscriptions to Collaboration journal for nonsubscribers, as a means to broaden our reade …

Will I ever enjoy listening to Kind of Blue again knowing that Miles Davis abused and beat his wife when he was outside the recording studio?

Appealing and fast-paced, this novel set in 1950s Mexico is a classic tale of an attractive young woman marrying into family with sinister secrets, who finds her choices taken away, and her life and sanity under threat. True to the gothic genre, the cr …

Insightful stories peel back the secrets within families, but the dazzling moment comes as you pass the midpoint of the book, and the connections between these universes begin to be revealed.

Properly speaking, shadows are not those places where the light is blocked. In the earliest reconstructed languages, those places have no names, though the proto-word for shadow does exist. Shadows were the beings that lived in those places of blocked light. Through the corruption of time, they have lent their name to their native homes, been subsumed by them, been forgotten.

With his first book recently published, essayist, poet, and artist Brian George reflects on the bizarre and often humorous ways that great works of the past were received by their contemporary critics, and how changes in the cultural landscape over the last few centuries—but especially since his coming of age in the Boston poetry and punk scenes of the late 1970s—have profoundly altered the ways we read, receive, and understand new works.

Each chapter of Masks of Origin—a book of what perhaps can only be called “visionary” essays, by Brian George—reads like an individual novel. Divided into personal and universal experiences, each informs the other. Descriptions of events in childhood and adulthood provide a wormhole into the cosmos.

I opened Brian George’s physically beautiful Masks of Origin—adorned with three-and-a-fraction of his own electric geometric red-green gargoyles, to find myself “reading,” if one might call it that, the whole book nearly straight-through that day, and the next…

A paean to Albert Murray and his hybrid memoir/literary criticism masterpiece of 1971, South to a Very Old Place.

Fiction, films and search engines meet indigenous names and the chatter of jays; where does our attention wander when it strays on the dappled path?

“Think outside the box,” they say. What if your box is doing the thinking? Where does your thinking end and your box begin? How many boxes does it take to screw in a light bulb? The answer may surprise you.

From my very childhood, I’ve always been curious, interested, in a quest to find out what actually life is. What, in fact, is death? Where do we humans come from, and where do we go after death? Or, why we humans are on earth at all, and then die?

Our bodies transform what we eat, and with our minds we re-create and transform culture. Here are some of the works that have gotten our attention recently and feel worth sharing.

“The Second” was written for a speculative fiction writing workshop and very last-minute in its original form. I did the plotting and world-building on the fly, and basically the original idea was “what if the protagonist were trying to save their friend from a duel?”

Fakes, egregores, and conspiracies are overtaking our perceptions of the world—what’s behind such reality mirrors, and where do the reflections or projections in them come from? Join Brigid and a group of kindred spirits for readings, discussion, and a deep exploration of these intriguing questions at the edges of our knowing.