Chant from a Holy Book

Gurdjieff spoke of an objective art as the true art form. For him most modern art was "all surface activity: subjective, uncritical manifestations of the personality, egotism unchecked." And I, not seeing it right in front of me the whole time, would ask where this true "objective" art is. Well? Right here. Directly in front of me. It should have the power to speak to all those who witness it in the same way, regardless of their backround. Only now have I grasped at this in even the smallest amount. Minutes ago the feeling was so exact, so clear, but now, only by my own fault has it diminished at all. Perhaps this objectivity extends to everything. The sensation of warm water on my hands as I washed them earlier today instantly reminded me of someone very close to me, without the slightest attempt at making a connection from the warmth of the water to the warmth of the person.
Finally I've hurled that irritating stepping stone onto the previous one and found out alittle more why I feel the need to hear so much in such short amounts of time, never quite settling on one particular form of music, but rather taking the parts that my as yet unfound "astral body" of sorts knows it needs. With this stone now mounted on the previous one more things are bound to arise, but it's more exciting than it is distressful. We can only know the power of something to us if it is stripped from us, if only for a short time. But perhaps that's a stretch.
Niles has mentioned Project Octave again recently and has told me that it is the first thing on his agenda once he is out of school. This is great news. One of the most fascinating things about him is the way he walks. I always look forward to seeing him walk from one place to another. Although at first glance he is a bit of an ackward looking fella, his posture is spot on. No huntching of any sort, and somewhat of a feline grace. Strange to say, but with a few moments of observation it is obvious. He carries himself the same way musically. A very very rare find in anyone. Although some others have presented themselves, maybe not musically, but personally. And now AOL seems to be giving me trouble once again. Yucka.

Necessary abandonment.

"... music may represent the primal language, through which our spoken form derives through limitation. Harmony, polyphony, orchestration and so on are all partial expressions of the structures of meaning that music embodies; which are rarely to be found when we speak with eachother."-Structures of Meaning: A.G.E. Blake

A fairly miserable start to the morning with an unusual amount of birds chirping away on the trees across the street from my window. I awoke with the pleasent surprise that (although this may sound a bit morbid at first) my fellow worker was feeling ill this morning and said he would not be going to the job site. Our boss leaving us to do the work ourselves and me not knowing quite how to hang sheet rock, at least by myself, meant that I have the day off. I felt alittle sick myself and decided to go for a walk around the block to get my blood moving. I passed an opening along the guardrail that John told me about once. If I remember correctly he had been walking at dawn in a bit of a haze and felt the impulse to journey down into the woodsy area through the opening of the gaurdrail. He said there was a swamp, or some area with water that he stopped at and sat. Apparently he had caught just the right angle of the sun in between the trees and the mist of the water when a large fish had jumped from the water through his line of vision. Or maybe it was a bird that flew out from nowhere, I can't recall, but it was quite the vision, or so I imagine. I've always wanted to travel down there myself just to see the area he was talking about but havn't felt the desire to do enough to actually follow through. Alas, I still havn't. I passed it but saw the unreasonable amount of snow and felt it better just to walk on. My dad arrived home with a package under his arm. Could this be the 6-cd set of Robert Fripp conversations to his audiences at certain soundscape performances from 97-98?! It was! "What a loser", I'm sure you're thinking. I don't blame you, but they are very important to me and I value the man's insight very much. And what to my surprise!? An autographed cover photo of the package front page. So far, two unexpected yet much needed and embraced events.
To enter into the sphere of the creative impulse, and rise and decent of the muse which is actively and readily available to us all is a blessing and a privilege. Such an event must be experienced and cannot be spoken of to do any sort of justice. Such an event is also particularly useful to the one who gives himself to the muse which he seeks. If one forces personality in a performance, what chance does the music have to breath? The forced presence and ego of the performer is fueled and the music itself dies, much to the heartbreak of the attendee who is there to do his or her part as a member of the audience. To let the muse in which the performer wishes to stand aside for present itself, then the musician has no choice but to abandon his own sense of ego. Only then can he not play a single note that he wants to play, but rather is at the will of God who moves it.
AOL continues to have its way with me and refuses to make anything easy enough to discharge with the amount of energy I have to deal with it, so I think this impulsive post must come to an end. And thank God, I'm sure you're tired of reading it.

Meeting with a Remarkable Man.

"Awakening begins when a man realizes he is going nowhere and does not know where to go."-G.I. Gurdjieff

My Father has surprised me many times in the past year or so, but only until the passed few weeks have I felt I've met him. I've sorely underestimated his ability of impact in his convictions, which many I hold to myself of equal importance. My thought of late has been sharpened to search. I have shamefully done little to contribute to this desire but, God willing, that will change. A monistary life has seemed appealing, but all too confined, at least for a period of length. The lack of passion in this may be because of my unwillingness to divulge such moving conversations with such a wise person, but there is no lack of conviction on this end.
A great, and long weekend has nearly passed and I couldn't be happier about it. Certain introductions of new people in ones life have a way of changing the way one views the whole. If that one person is taken out of the whole, the entire pyramid is shaken. If that one persons influence becomes stronger, the whole becomes stronger. Without shying away from this whatsoever, a wonderful trip to a wonderful persons house this passed Saturday. An exciting, and somewhat expected practice yesterday when I was faced with the decision to do nothing, or get somewhere. A grand amount of shovelling this morning, and more to come tomorrow at work. And now? A realization that I have nothing more to type. This was entirely expected.

"Let God kill him who himself does not know, yet presumes to show others the way to the doors of His Kingdom."- old Persian proverb