I'm not sure, detlof, who you were talking about when you said there was too much talking :0). Yes, there was, but I get tired of every time something gets a little more complicated, digging for a shiny thing with fingernails bare, someone jumps out from the bushes with some Zen garble or "Jesus in their pocket" (...love that one!). I apologize if I offended you (assuming that I did because you have yet to respond to my above inquiries, which I think have "some" merit). Basically, hadn't heard from you, thread went dead for 4 days, only Oz replying, so didn't think you'd mind a "stir of words". Did you want "prettier" words, words like water, words that feel like the music you long for? Ones where you could more easily intuit the Search, or that it is still there?
Back to thinking:
So, if music is found in silence, then how could we talk about it in words at all? Are words always a "harsh clamor" upon an experience of the Truth/Music/Beauty? Are we left with poetry, or poetics, or poetic-sounding words?
Music does not just happen in silence, although deeper meanings can be found there. Music is found both in the silence and the notes which arise from that ground; Truth is found both in the Silence and the thought-notes which arise from that ground; "beauty" is found in them both and in all things and thoughts because all things and thoughts, and notes, arise from that Silence. Yet, by saying "silent" I create not-silence. In doing so, is the world split asunder, me from It?
Do not make the Silence "grave" as if it is holy and only holy, somehow apart from the notes and words. It is not the holy Other. That is what St. Augustine told you so he could sell more seats (bless his soul...).
Words carry "propulsion" and move minds; notes carry "propulsion" and move minds.
The notes are not separate from the Music; the Music is not "grave" and the notes not. That is its own subtle split. Neanderthal saw the sky and made it the Other sky, a "grave" force to be appeased with fire and hearts (and which BTW lead to some engrained archetrypal lens...do you see that lens?)
Truth is found in the notes and the Silence.
Truth is found where you look for it.
The world is oscillating (can you feel it, the notes chaotic as post modern predator mind finds his mirror in medieval predator mind, the meekest minds of animals withering...?) and human minds that are so moved - see the black vault of descending sky - want to hear the poetics of the silence, as their last sauve, so tired from the nihilism, from the words, from what yawns, so I leave them to that, heads down.
A break from audiogon "thinking" is on order.
Did you hear that? A leaf fell, damp ground, the wind.
Adieu, my friends
Back to thinking:
So, if music is found in silence, then how could we talk about it in words at all? Are words always a "harsh clamor" upon an experience of the Truth/Music/Beauty? Are we left with poetry, or poetics, or poetic-sounding words?
Music does not just happen in silence, although deeper meanings can be found there. Music is found both in the silence and the notes which arise from that ground; Truth is found both in the Silence and the thought-notes which arise from that ground; "beauty" is found in them both and in all things and thoughts because all things and thoughts, and notes, arise from that Silence. Yet, by saying "silent" I create not-silence. In doing so, is the world split asunder, me from It?
Do not make the Silence "grave" as if it is holy and only holy, somehow apart from the notes and words. It is not the holy Other. That is what St. Augustine told you so he could sell more seats (bless his soul...).
Words carry "propulsion" and move minds; notes carry "propulsion" and move minds.
The notes are not separate from the Music; the Music is not "grave" and the notes not. That is its own subtle split. Neanderthal saw the sky and made it the Other sky, a "grave" force to be appeased with fire and hearts (and which BTW lead to some engrained archetrypal lens...do you see that lens?)
Truth is found in the notes and the Silence.
Truth is found where you look for it.
The world is oscillating (can you feel it, the notes chaotic as post modern predator mind finds his mirror in medieval predator mind, the meekest minds of animals withering...?) and human minds that are so moved - see the black vault of descending sky - want to hear the poetics of the silence, as their last sauve, so tired from the nihilism, from the words, from what yawns, so I leave them to that, heads down.
A break from audiogon "thinking" is on order.
Did you hear that? A leaf fell, damp ground, the wind.
Adieu, my friends