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explain it. I feel that I have had a blow; but it is not, as I thought as a child, simply a blow from an enemy hidden behind the cotton wool of daily life; it is or will become a revelation of some order; it is a token of some real thing behind appearances; and I make it real by putting it into words. It is only by putting it into words that I make it whole; this wholeness means that it has lost its power to hurt me; it gives me, perhaps because by doing so I take away the pain, a great delight to put the severed parts together. Perhaps this is the strongest pleasure known to me. It is the rapture I get when in writing I seem to be discovering what belongs to what; making a scene come right; making a character come together. From this I reach what I might call a philosophy; at any rate it is a constant idea of mine; that behind the cotton wool is hidden a pattern; that we--I mean all human beings--are connected with this; that the whole world is a work of art; that we are part of the work of art." |
1995, Harper, San Francisco |
"The artist . . . possesses the capacity to discern the element of reality which is latent in the object, to disentangle it from the sensuous material in which it is embodied, and, by expressing his vision of it in his picture, to enable us to glimpse the pure form which he has visualised.It is for this reason that, though the form of artistic expression changes from age to age, the feelings which great art awakens have been the same in every age. The forms of art are inexhaustible, but they all lead along the same road of aesthetic emotion to the contemplation of the same ultimate reality . . . And since art enables us to glimpse a reality which lies outside the realm of that of which we are normally aware, the emotions which it arouses are not of this world. Aesthetic emotion is emotion felt not for this world but for reality; it is, therefore, unlike all other emotions, being both unanalysable and unique . . . So long as the vision which art vouchsafes endures, we are shut off from the interests which this world begets . . . It is as if we were enabled for the moment to escape from the stream of life and, forgetful of the turmoil of want and desire, of striving and seeking, which life involves, to be at peace upon the banks . . . If he [the artist] possesses the capacity for vision, in virtue of which he is able to disentangle the manifestation of the Form of Beauty from the physical setting in which it appears, then the work which he produces will possess that quality of significant form in virtue of which we say that is has aesthetic value . . .
. . . Training and study will not enable the artist to command the Form, or to ensure that beauty will clothe his work. The coming of the Form knows no law. It is the incalculable element in all art; it can neither be compelled nor cajoled . . . This explains also why beauty attaches to the work of some men who disregard all the rules, and throw all canons of taste overboard, whilst it eschews the laboured productions of those who follow rigorously and with perfect taste the best traditions of the elders. But it is equally true that the Form of Beauty is more likely to be attracted where a knowledge of technique is present than where such knowledge is absent, and that, other things being equal, knowledge and skill are more likely to produce works of beauty than the so-called inspiration which is too often devoid of them."
C.E.M. Joad, Guide to Philosophy |

A forceful way to experience the psychic upheaval of illuminating art is to view,
with receptive mindfulness, the movie, The French Lieutenant's Woman. The screenplay by
Harold Pinter wrenches us from one world of meaning-experience--the lives of the actors
making the movie in the late twentieth-century--to a totally different world of meaning-experience--the lives of the nineteenth-century characters of the movie. At one point,
for example, the two actors are practicing a scene where the woman falls. Suddenly,
as the actors in the twentieth century are practicing, we are propelled into the
experience-events of the nineteenth-century characters as she falls in front of him.
Wallace Stevens begins this poem with a seemingly academic title:
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![]() To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow |
The Mystical Formulation
Contemplation and Meditation
"The simple
clear, direct, plain, uncomplicated
I wonder to what these words are referring
"The simple, absolute
certain, positive, undeniable, supreme
Whatever these words are referring to, it is something unusual
"The simple, absolute, and immutable
constant, enduring, unchanging, everlasting
Okay, it is uncomplicated, undeniable, and unchanging
"The simple, absolute and immutable mysteries
mysteries?
How can mysteries be uncomplicated? Undeniable and unchanging, maybe
"The simple, absolute and immutable mysteries of divine Truth
mysteries of divine Truth?
An extraordinary kind of divine Truth whose mysteries are uncomplicated, undeniable, and unchanging
"The simple, absolute and immutable mysteries of divine Truth are hidden in the super-luminous darkness
gleaming, glowing, light-producing darkness?
So this is something other than what is encountered in the "natural" world
"The simple, absolute and immutable mysteries of divine Truth are hidden in the super-luminous darkness of that silence which revealeth in secret. The psyche experiences upheaval; the intellect cannot fathom this
I must use spiritual discernment if I am to understand this | |||||||||||||||||||||||
"The simple, absolute and immutable mysteries of divine Truth are hidden in the super-luminous darkness of that silence which revealeth in secret. For this darkness, though of deepest obscurity, is yet radiantly clear; and, though beyond touch and sight, it more than fills our unseeing minds with splendours of transcendent beauty. . .
"We long exceedingly to dwell in this translucent darkness and, through not seeing and not knowing, to see Him who is beyond both vision and knowledge--by the very fact of neither seeing Him nor knowing Him. For this is truly to see and to know and, through the abandonment of all things, to praise Him who is beyond and above all things.
"For this is not unlike the art of those who carve a life-like image from stone; removing from around it all that impedes clear vision of the latent form, revealing its hidden beauty solely by taking away. For it is, as I believe, more fitting to praise Him by taking away than by ascription; for we ascribe attributes to Him, when we start from universals and come down through the intermediate to the particulars. But here we take away all things from Him going up from particulars to universals, that we may know openly the unknowable, which is hidden in and under all things that may be known. And we behold that darkness beyond being, concealed under all natural light."
'Hearken to the command of God, for He hath said, "Look ye!": turn thy face towards these marks of Divine mercy.'"The Egyptians believed that sound was the basis of creation; their most sacred ceremony, the Mystery of Mysteries, used sound frequencies to create a connection between the earth's center and the pole star of the heavens. The frequency codes of this sacred ceremony, was called 'The Raising of the Djed.'. (The Djed is the earliest known World Tree archetype and was the central focus of the Osirian mysteries.) A cylindric column of light, it was considered the cosmic axis that linked Earth to the Pole Star, the still-point around which the heavens revolved. The ceremony, prefaced by the reenactment of a mythic cosmological drama, was performed to evoke stability, continuity and regeneration during unstable periods between cycles. Historically, the Djed was raised at Winter Solstice, and was a time of intense joy and celebration. The event was orchestrated with resonant acoustic formulas performed by sacred drummers and chanters. Rhythms of systrum and cymbal filled the air, along with the percussive clapping of hands and beating of feet. Research of the texts of the Temple of Horus indicate that the Djed served its greatest purpose at the ending of one world age and the beginning of another. According to ancient calendric reckoning, Winter solstice December 21, 1992 inaugurated such a period."
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An artist's--soloist's or conductor's--rendition of a Perennialist or "high" music composition can be at any of the various levels, depending on his or her level of spiritual awareness. Only an artist who has an understanding of the highest level of meaning of a musical composition can reveal the true essence of the piece. A soloist must be a master of his or her instrument to perform a rendition of the composition which is at the highest level.
To get a sense of the different levels of renditions performed, listen first to:
No matter how many times you may have heard Ravel's Bolero, when you hear Scherchen's rendition of it, you will be hearing it for the first time--since this is the Real essence of the composition--its true sound and spirit. The Bernstein/New York Philharmonic rendition of Ravel's Bolero is at a much lower level of meaning--and hence you get almost none of its essence.Scherchen's rendition of the Bolero allows us to understand that this is an Eastern Perennialist composition--there is nothing Western in it. Ravel apparently was allowed by a genuine Sufi group to hear the actual Bolero. He was then able to reproduce--in the first part of his composition--the exact sound he had heard. Then, in the second part of his Bolero, Ravel interprets the essence in a more orchestral framework. When experiencing this work of art, the same sort of psychic upheaval occurs in us as in our experience of all other Perennialist art.
The level of a rendition of a piece of music is in relation to the performer's understanding of that particular composition. So, for example, the Bernstein/New York Philharmonic rendition of Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini is at a higher level than the Leonard Slatkin/Abbey Simon (pianist)/ St. Louis Symphony Orchestra rendition of the same composition by Rachmaninoff.
While most soloists merely play the notes and produce what they understand to be the sounds, master soloists are able to reveal the essence of musical compositions. To experience this phenomenon, listen to Edward Kilenyi's rendition of Chopin's Twelve Etudes and then listen to any other soloist's rendition of the same pieces.
Chopin knew spiritually the essence of the piano, so he was able to write music which could reveal this essence--if performed with perfection--as in the case of Kilenyi.
Part of the magick of an "advanced" musical artist is to reveal not only the essence of musical compositions but the "reality" of a musical instrument. When we listen to Kilenyi playing Chopin's Twelve Etudes, we suddenly, for the first time, realize that the piano is actually ten different instruments. The sounds Kilenyi produces with a piano reveals that it is a multi-faceted reality, not the simple instrument we had thought.
"Each adept has a particular grade in listening to transformative music and the feelings which he gains therefrom are proportionate to his grade. Listening to transformative music is like the sun, which shines on all things but affects them differently according to their level: it burns or illumines or dissolves or nurtures.
"Seers in listening to transformative sounds penetrate to the reality. When a man attains so high a degree as this he hears spiritual truths from every object in the universe." |
In 1935, when Sir Thomas Beecham, famed English conductor, first heard Edward Kilenyi play, he remarked: "That's the way to play the piano!" and booked young Edward on a concert tour to introduce him to the entire English music loving nation. Born in 1910 in Philadelphia, Edward Kilenyi was the son of violinist-composer Edward Kilenyi Sr., with whom George Gershwin studied composition from 1919 to 1921. Edward studied in Hungary with Ernö Dohnányi.
An appreciator--reader, listener, viewer, experiencer--must be at a certain level of understanding to even experience--hear, see, etc.--the higher level of meaning and excellence in a rendition of a musical composition or in the performance on a specific instrument.
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Our study of transformative sanctuaries revealed that Gothic cathedrals such as Chartres are portals to a higher state of consciousness. The Chartres Mystery School taught the esoteric knowledge of how we can apprehend representations of sacred reality with our senses and our emotions in a special manner. The initiatory training of the Chartres School allowed initiates to experience a Cathedral (or other sacred place) as a reality on the threshold of the spiritual dimension through which we can gain access to an actual experience of ultimate reality. "Chartres embodies the most profound expression of the Dionysian divine darkness that the world has, or probably ever will see. For Chartres, even in summer is always dark, and yet its darkness is by no means ordinary, for it has a jewelled darkness. It mediates a dappled, jewelled light which comes through countless windows of the most beautiful and priceless stained glass. Quite apart from the biblical stories depicted in them, or the huge biblical characters who look down as from on high, the colours of the glass itself, the deep reds and blues, create a light which is mystical, which transforms the vast emptiness of the building to a sacred space, as if by some alchemical magic.
"The primary reason why pilgrims still flock to Chartres, consciously or unconsciously, is to experience the beauty of this dark alchemical light.. . The primary reason for building it architecturally in the way we see it today, was to express and embody the mystical theology of Dionysius, and to increase the possibility of experiencing the darkness of God as on the mystic journey--through the vibrations, the aura, the subtle body of the building itself.
"The call of Dionysian mysticism still comes silently to all through the beauty of the stained glass, which bathes the carefully crafted and finely tuned sacred space in mystical light. No one can be entirely free from the possibility that their soul will be touched by this beauty, which speaks of the darkness and of the light of God together; of light in the darkness, of the light behind the darkness. . . This is the journey towards the darkness of God in which, paradoxically, we eventually find ourselves nearer to the transfiguring light of his presence." 2
This same magical use of light and darkness became the theme of painters such as Vermeer, Van Eck, and Van Gogh. Vermeer "suspended the war between light and darkness, gave the victory to light, and made light a manifestation of living-kindness. Even when stealing into Vermeer's darkest interior by a narrow window, light is welcomed as a lover, The far corners whisper hello to light. Instead of humping their backs like angry cats the shadows under the furniture are purring. A lady smooths a table-cloth: light smooths it for her and gently holds her hand upon it, saying, 'This usual busy morning is forever.'" 3
Perennialist art produces psychic upheaval in us, thrusting us into another state of consciousness, and, with Rumi, we wake up asking, "Who looks out with my eyes?"