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Do you simply wait in whatever station
you find yourself? Is waiting that simple?
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Hey, Daniel! The subject matter of this poem draws me as one who has been touched and wants to touch again the Divine. As Hafez says, once this happens, we have been ruined to accept whatever is lesser. I've seen other references of yours to Stockhausen who I don't know, so I'm probably missing, not following, all you intend here. Relative to mantra or meditation or centering prayer or remembering- all similar in my experience and understanding, they can be useful to put our minds in a good place, for nurturing a good perspective. And watching where our minds go while practicing these things adds to our self-knowledge. But the Divine cannot be manipulated, the Holy is not our waiter. The glimpses granted are entirely by grace, and once granted, most of our time is lived in between. But how wonderful, how useful for remembrance, those moments of clarity! May we hold fast to the truth we have learned in them. Glen P.S. The limp flag simile is a vivid one. Alas! The gifts granted to others are theirs. But we have our own. I have something about this in my poem, On Reading a Book of Mystic Writings. -G
Like a typical Daniel Brick piece, this one brims over with meaning far deeper than its conversational tone suggests. An initial reading may capture the essence of the superficial aspects, the froth bubbling over a boiling pot, but further reading and meditation releases deeper currents of contemplation, with the suggestion that there is still far more here to be discovered. Thank you, Daniel, your combination of philosophical contemplations and lyrical linguistic expression reveal your dedication to the masters' tutelage and pay them considerable tribute.
Mantra'' in Hindu philosophy is a divine word, which will give you protection if chanted with repetition and contemplation.Mantra is a God-form.God is worshiped through Mantra. For someone like me who has no knowledge about Stockhousen's music, can still feel the magic of Mantra through this poem, I hope, sixty minutes and thirty three seconds refer to precision and çoncentration required in performing such music.