It's like living in Israel, in a sense. I find that the harmony and the rhythm flow according to a plan and for the good of those who can take it all in. A presentation of the sublime in Humanness.
The terror, yes, it's there in the nation, and the horror of the primitives mingling and desperate to befoul. But if one can find a place in the mind to take in the music of the people as an orchestration of living as embracing life and others, then it is love unsurpassed. Israel itself as a whole experience is a cleanliness of the soul that I seldom find elsewhere outside the music chamber.
No wonder, is it, that so many want to throw rocks and destroy such beauty.
But, I came in the expectation of finding news on Hubble. Instead, to my delight, there's this. A different orchestration of the beautiful. Thanks. I feel good again.
"(I)f one can find a place in the mind to take in the music of the people as an orchestration of living as embracing life and others, then it is love unsurpassed."
You've cracked the code, Dag. Music is life, and the best of it is love.
I do dwell sometimes on things better left alone. I wrote here a while back about the multi-hued farmlands of Britain, using the word "piebald" which upon consideration I thought would have been better had I used dappled, also horse-like and not quite what I mean. Harlequin is closer but has the wrong connotations; so versicolor or variegated come to mind as better. The final point is that the fields of greens and yellows and reds astound the senses, especially for me atop Glastonbury Tor on a gloomy day, as usual, when the sun peaks out and sends down a beam across the fields, lighting the assorted crops in their separate beauties one by one like ballerinas coming out from behind the curtain, bowing gracefully after a triumphant performance.
I'll try to be more careful in my choice of words in future.
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Sitting here listening to my favorite music. Pink Floyd. Now as the band
could really not exist other than Waters, Glimour, Mason and Wright, I do
like th...
Don’t panic! This blog has changed
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My heart sinks. I have to master a new blogging system, and hope that it
works. You see, the new blog will show only one…
Colonel Neville Dead At Age Seven.
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UPDATE: Neville [no relation] is now on YouTube and here's the link to his
channel. As Pete and Dud and Derek and Clive once said, now it's time to
say goo...
On hiatus
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I've run this blog for a long time. Especially by Internet standards. But,
as you may have noticed lately, I'm just not updating the site on a regular
basi...
The Lynch List, 09-Jul-2012
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First: Equality of Opportunity is a much-abused buzz-statement. I have
argued in the past that this is a codeword for Equality of Outcome, and
been critici...
THINGS ARE MOVING - AGAIN
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The WSJ’s Peggy Noonan checks US election numbers: The polls are tightening
and no one is sure why. A Reuters/Ipsos poll through…
4 comments:
It's like living in Israel, in a sense. I find that the harmony and the rhythm flow according to a plan and for the good of those who can take it all in. A presentation of the sublime in Humanness.
The terror, yes, it's there in the nation, and the horror of the primitives mingling and desperate to befoul. But if one can find a place in the mind to take in the music of the people as an orchestration of living as embracing life and others, then it is love unsurpassed. Israel itself as a whole experience is a cleanliness of the soul that I seldom find elsewhere outside the music chamber.
No wonder, is it, that so many want to throw rocks and destroy such beauty.
But, I came in the expectation of finding news on Hubble. Instead, to my delight, there's this. A different orchestration of the beautiful. Thanks. I feel good again.
"(I)f one can find a place in the mind to take in the music of the people as an orchestration of living as embracing life and others, then it is love unsurpassed."
You've cracked the code, Dag. Music is life, and the best of it is love.
:)
I do dwell sometimes on things better left alone. I wrote here a while back about the multi-hued farmlands of Britain, using the word "piebald" which upon consideration I thought would have been better had I used dappled, also horse-like and not quite what I mean. Harlequin is closer but has the wrong connotations; so versicolor or variegated come to mind as better. The final point is that the fields of greens and yellows and reds astound the senses, especially for me atop Glastonbury Tor on a gloomy day, as usual, when the sun peaks out and sends down a beam across the fields, lighting the assorted crops in their separate beauties one by one like ballerinas coming out from behind the curtain, bowing gracefully after a triumphant performance.
I'll try to be more careful in my choice of words in future.
The farmlands of Britain, are, indeed, the stuff of which inspire sonnets.
I like "versicolor," myself ...
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