Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Music :Rythmes of love and spirit/I WISH I COULD SPEAK LIKE MUSIC/

Gabriel's Oboe(Ennio Morricone)-André Rieu

Is it any weakness, pray, to be wrought on by exquisite music?
to feel its wondrous harmonies searching the subtlest windings
of your soul, the delicate fibres of life where no memory can
penetrate, and binding together your whole being, past and present,
in one unspeakable vibration; melting you in one moment with all

the tenderness, all the love, that has been scattered through
the toilsome years, concentrating in one emotion of heroic
courage or resignation all the hard-learned lessons of
self-renouncing sympathy, blending your present joy
with past sorrow, and your present sorrow with all your past joy?

John Vance Cheney

Take of the maiden's and the mother's sigh,
Of childhood's dream, and hope that age doth bless,
Of roses and the south wind's tenderness,
Of fir-tree's shadow, tint of sunset sky,
Of moon on meadow where the stream runs by,
Of lover's kiss, his diffident caress,
Of blue eyes' yellow, brown eyes' darker, tress,

Of echoes from the morning bird on high,
Of passion of all pulses of the Spring,
Of prayer from every death-bed of the Fall,
Of joy and woe that sleep and waking bring,
Of tremor of each blood-beat great and small;
Now, pour into the empty soul each thing,
And let His finger touch that moveth all.

Where Everything Is Music

Don’t worry about saving these songs!
And if one of our instruments breaks,
it doesn’t matter.

We have fallen into the place
where everything is music.

The strumming and the flute notes
rise into the atmosphere,
and even if the whole world’s harp
should burn up, there will still be
hidden instruments playing.

So the candle flickers and goes out.
We have a piece of flint, and a spark.

This singing art is sea foam.
The graceful movements come from a pearl
somewhere on the ocean floor.

Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge
of driftwood along the beach, wanting!

They derive
from a slow and powerful root
that we can’t see.

Stop the words now.
Open the window in the center of your chest,
and let the spirit fly in and out.


I wish I could speak like music.

I wish I could put the swaying splendor
Of the fields into words

So that you could hold Truth
Against your body
And dance.

I am trying the best I can
With this crude brush, the tongue,

To cover you with light.

I wish I could speak like divine music.

I want to give you the sublime rhythms
Of this earth and the sky’s limbs

As they joyously spin and surrender,
Against God’s luminous breath.

Hafiz wants you to hold me
Against your precious

And dance,

Friday, July 27, 2018

State of innocence by Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

John Atkinson Grimshaw Art

We often have need of a profound philosophy to restore to our feelings
their original state of innocence, to find our way out of the rubble
of things alien to us, to begin to feel for ourselves and to speak
ourselves, and I might almost say to exist ourselves.
Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

Strong Woman May be your only Army by Nizar Qabani

Don't be afraid of having a relationship with a strong woman.
There might come a day when she will be your only army.
Nizar Qabani

Walk with grief like a good friend by Rumi

Walk with grief like a good friend.
Listen to what he says.
Sometimes the cold and dark of a cave
give the opening we most want.

Saturday, July 14, 2018

Flow,not fix by Thomas Wolfe

The essence of belief is doubt,
the essence of reality is questioning.

The essence of Time is Flow, not Fix.
The essence of faith is the knowledge that all flows
and that everything must change.

The growing man is Man Alive, and his "philosophy"
must grow, must flow, with him.

The man too fixed today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body
of beliefs is nothing but a series of fixations.
Thomas Wolfe

Friday, July 13, 2018

Moment Of bliss by Fyodor Dostoevsky

May you be for ever blessed
for that moment of bliss and happiness
which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart.

Isn't such a moment sufficient
for the whole of one's life?
Fyodor Dostoevsky

Thursday, July 5, 2018

When Love Touches Pain by stephen Levine

When your fear touches someone’s pain,
it becomes pity,
when your love touches someone’s pain,
it become compassion.
Stephen Levine

Dreams are in all Of Us by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

There are dreams of love, life, and adventure in all of us.
But we are also sadly filled with reasons why we shouldn’t try.
These reasons seem to protect us, but in truth they imprison us.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

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