Shanghai Traditional Orchestra performs “Water in the North” to me. Again and again, sitting at my desk, considering words to a coming text that will be published, I let the softness of the beauty of the music silences me.
Is beauty a source more than a pictorial expression that my eyes and senses perceive?
Notions of what I know I want to convey, come to me at my desk in my work chamber, sliding in from an awareness I do not know how I access. The performances land lightly on the keyboard and from there to linguistic expressions the path is short to me.
Music is often my companion in the writing process. I cannot explain the nature of music, only its effect. The music I choose can be as different as Chinese traditional music on flimsy stringed instruments to mournful American country and western rock.
Common to these otherwise different expressions is what I perceive as beauty. I can't picture this beauty, it holds me in its lap and opens a window to a greater awareness - so I feel.
It is in the spirit of this extended awareness I write and this spirit is more like a source than a beautiful image of matter.
Maybe it's the energetic essence of beauty that speaks to me, in vibrations I just can hear with my Higher self?