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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?



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