“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Speaking of Back To Heaven, this is a song that's very close to my heart. It's a lovely and haunting instrumental.
Afterall, at times that's how it feels - He sent me to this danged planet, now I'm marooned here until that great day when all things are made new again, and I'm finally my true self again.
The visuals of this particular video are pretty good too.
Something I'm expanding, from a sketchy idea I had about a year ago. This is just the beginning, but perhaps if I post it, I'll be more focused on finishing it.
Did you ever sit by the side of a river and watch the water as it navigates its way toward the unknown? It glides across the sandy shallows. It fills murky depths. Stones and boulders, protrude from beneath and directing their fluid bed fellow.
It seems to me quite revealing of the shrewd realities of our spiritual lives. Like water, we move from source to destination, the Creator Himself having bent every turn and dug the depths. He has placed every stone in our path and determined the length of our course.
Well, obviously I haven't been working on any writing this last week or so, and therefore have nothing new to post. So until I get around to that, enjoy another tune.
"Dream Weaver" by REO Speedwagon Written by Gary Wright
Lyrics: Ive just closed my eyes again Climbed aboard the dream weaver train Driver take away my worries of today And leave tomorrow behind Ooh dream weaver I believe you can get me through the night Ooh dream weaver I believe we can reach the morning light
Fly me high through the starry skies Maybe to an astral plane Cross the highways of fantasy Help me to forget todays pain
Ooh dream weaver I believe you can get me through the night Ooh dream weaver I believe we can reach the morning light
Though the dawn may be coming soon There still may be some time Fly me away to the bright side of the moon And meet me on the other side
Ooh dream weaver I believe you can get me through the night Ooh dream weaver I believe we can reach the morning light Dream weaver Dream weaver Dream weaver
They rise - the lover and dreamer, the watcher and the mystic - not by chance or by powerless circumstance, but by fate, who speaks by metered means "Return. The name of thy beginning awaits thee." More of sky than of ground, are they, and soil holds little solace. Blinding day does not enliven, but those glistening clusters and rapturous ponds of silver that reach across immortal voids. There is their treasure. That, their blissful aim and portion. For this, they abide the daily donning of pinion and truss.
And yet, fate sings and rings her spheral chimes, and breaks the spell woven by day, so that they may rise in this vigilous pursuit, and lay claim to treasure held safe beneath those bright spattered pools. She strikes the polished surface of midnight rays, to lay bare inherent eagerness and stir the hopeful heart to move in ancient inquiry.
Each night, upon the lustrous beams they move in search of the true and the hidden. They rise - the lover and dreamer, the watcher and mystic - not by solitary casualty, nor by feeble error, nor tresspass, but by that bidding, "Return. The name of thy beginnings awaits thee."
If this isn't my favorite Fogelberg song, it's pretty close.
"Icarus Ascending" Dan Fogelberg
Lyrics: Soaring alone upon a threatening wind Just fix your eyes on the horizon Cut off from everything You've known or have been I shouldn't think it's so surprisin' Spiralling upward on a freshening lift Reaching the realms of fleet Apollo You have been given the most sacred of gifts You must be fearless now and follow
[Chorus:] Don't look down Though your heart may be weary Don't look down Though your wings are on fire Don't look down Though the night may seem endless There's a reason you're flyingThis fast and this far Let your faith be your strength And your love be your guiding star
Venturing further than The length of your sight Out past the reach of your beginnings There is a gamble in each Proud act of flight But the losses pale before the winnings Circling and diving with this Freedom you've found Illusion blows apart and scatters There is no darkness in this place That we're bound Love is the only thing that matters
Was she dreaming, she asked herself. She must be. If she were not Sedrick surely would not lay in such peaceful slumber mere feet away. Or perhaps it was a mirage. She'd read about mirages in the desert. But such a visual phenomenon required heat and rays of light. It was night and dark, aside from the glow of the full moon, and the air was chilled.
The thoughts had scarcely hurried through her mind when the limpid figure spoke again. "It is not because you are dreaming that the man stirs not from his sleep. It is because I am within and not without."
"But I see you." Leala replied.
"You see me because you wish me to be seen."
"You still have not told me your name." Leala said.
"I have no name, aside from that thing which I am. For I am no more and no less than the secret thoughts of your heart. Things for which you've provided safe haven, as well as the things you conceal."
It was one of those hermetic moments in which Leala felt the stirring of recognition that caused her to wonder what other being might be dwelling somewhere deep within the temporal substance of her own body. This recognition - this wordless perceptivity - was something she called "knowing." Something that produced a whirling sensation that could be temporarily disorienting, when it was at it's most profound. She assumed this was due to the struggle between the corporeal and the impalpable, as they each contend for dominance over the other.
Did minutes pass, or mere seconds? Leala was unsure how much time lapsed before she heard herself speak. "Then I will name you Diaphanous."
All through the night I'll be watching over you And all through the night I'll be standing over you And through bad dreams I'll be right there baby Telling you everything's going to be alright When you cry I'll be there baby Telling you're never nothing less than beautiful So don't you worry I'm your Angel Standing by
"Calling All Angels" By K.D. Lang and Jane Siberry
santa maria, santa teresa, santa anna, santa susannahsanta cecelia, santa copelia, santa domenica, mary angelicafrater achad, frater pietro, julianus, petronillasanta, santos, miroslaw, vladimir and all the rest
A man is placed upon the steps, a baby cries, And high above the church bells start to ring And as the heaviness the body oh the heaviness settles in Somewhere you can hear a mother sing Then it`s one foot then the other as you step out onto the road How much weight? how much weight? Then it`s how long? and how far? And how many times before it`s too late? Calling all angels calling all angels Walk me through this one Don`t leave me alone Calling all angels Calling all angels We`re cryin` and we`re hurtin` And we`re not sure why
And every day you gaze upon the sunset with such love and intensity It`s almost... it`s almost as if if you could only crack the code Then you`d finally understand what all this means But if you could... do you think you would trade in all the pain and suffering? Ah, but then you`d miss the beauty of the light upon this earth And the sweetness of the leaving Calling all angels Calling all angels Walk me through this one Don`t leave me alone Callin` all angels Callin` all angels We`re tryin`we`re hopin`we`re hurtin` We`re lovin`we`re cryin`we`re callin` Cuz we`re not sure how this goes
Sleepers awaken Born of slumberous wombs As pearls they are Hidden in the fields Whisper "We are here" Watchers waiting For he who purchased their glory And fitting made them To be swept up in golden nets Proclaim "We are sent"
Stillness know they That yeild to the crushing Like grapes into wine Like stones into diamonds Sing "We are chosen"
Roused dreamers Ransomed treasures, immortal, Entreating the master That the day be near Cry "We are ready"
Draw near, and with certitude throw back the sashes that veil the brightness of celestial lights. Their curious spring is as morn, and as birth from thwarted death.
Carefully, gently, raise thy hand to that sill and breach, at last, that narrow space by which such wistful love might pass and rest upon a soul racked taut by interim too long extended.
Had expectancy been stretched only for a day or other brief measure, it may blossoming now be. For hope, in an eternal dance, could prevent not her own joining, so that we might be accompanied.
Rather those apportionments, one by one, subdued and wrested, draw down with them again the sash, and conceal the light beyond.
Beseech I must, leave open - pull wide - that shutter once more. For hypnotic is the light from those heavenly globes. Light that labors of its own unavoidable ambition.
Come near and pass through and with confidence sever the tethers that hinder splendid absolution, so we may breathe that budding fragrance of imperishability.
Yet, rest. Rest and do not strain. Truth itself, should it be willed, shall burst the panes themselves and by exalted silence shall shatter the need for breaching of spaces or the drawing of sashes.
He is a product of the 1960s, a true hippie, and today the man once called Cosmic Carlos still talks like one.
"Sound immediately rearranges the molecular structure of the listener. And that's something that I'm really really passionate about," says Santana.
When asked about his New Age veneer, he says, "If they equate Cosmic Carlos with something that they don't understand because they're too much on the frequency of meat and potatoes, it's OK....There's something about music that makes your hair stand up. Behold, it rearranges your molecular structure."
Hey now all you sinners Put your lights on put your lights on Hey now all you lovers Put your lights on put your lights on Hey now all you killers Put your lights on put your lights on Hey now all you children Leave your lights on you better leave your lights on Cause theres a monster living under my bed Whispering in my ear Theres an angel with a hand on my head She say Ive got nothing to fear Theres a darkness deep in my soul I still got a purpose to serve So let your light shine into my hole God dont let me lose my nerve Lose my nerve Hey now hey now hey now hey now Wo oh hey now hey now hey now hey now Hey now all you sinners Put your lights on put your lights on Hey now all you children Leave your lights on you better leave your lights on Because theres a monster living under my bed Whispering in my ear Theres an angel with a hand on my head She says Ive got nothing to fear La ill aha ill allah We all shine like stars We all shine like stars Then we fade away
Leala blinked her eyes and opened them again, fully expecting to find him standing there. But that wasn't to be so. She saw only the bleary vapor left in his stead. What she felt was the choking sensation of powerful emotion - emotion she could have found no definition for.
The City of Pearls was just ahead by about a two day's travel. She now wondered if, without Sedrick, the trek was still warranted. She looked down at Teo, half expecting him to provide the answer to her silent inquest.
One self tends to only report. "Here are the facts. Here is the data" A second self exists only within sensation. She wishes the first self to report, But she has no words for the facts. The third self observes the interaction. But this is all an exaggeration. Because we are all one in the same.
He was not accustomed to listening to voices even from personages clearly and distinctly present and palpable. Certainly not to those that came in almost musical sounding wisps or from such an entity as the one now before him. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing, let alone reconcile the solidity of what he saw with the almost liquid nature of the articulations. The sudden distinction between what he'd thus far known with certainty and what he now recognized as something far more absolute was a disorienting one. And yet the actual thoughts attached to this profound antithesis flashed past his consciousness so quickly that one might hesitate to call them thoughts at all.
Not listening to voices was a habit Sedrick had formed long ago. A time that, should he pause to consider it, would seem more mirage than material experience. A spirit of insurrection, one might say, that he would both acknowledge and deny, even within himself.
Yet Leala had heard. It was evident from the slight smile he watched form on her lips, as if the words were, for her, a kind of secret and delightful acknowledgement - something recognizable - while her gaze remained fixed on The One standing, at last, in their presence.
Also noted was the fact that her constant companion had ceased his usual antics and, quite out of character, now lay in relaxed respite at her feet, as if these enigmatic events had provided what Sedrick considered a long overdue calmness in the puckish little creature.
The bells of heaven ring To wild and beckoned souls As one would kneel At the mere sound Amply passing through ears And inward Where the true hearing is
Of joy that rips the heart And ragged renders it Like deeply shaded night Dipped in ink, specked with gold, As swirls of ripe perfumes Of olive, of myrrh, of bay It moves in shapes of ponies bright And leaping dogs and riders