Greetings
from War and Peace
04/04/10 00:18
Yes, love (he
thought again with perfect distinctness), but not
that love that loves for something, to gain
something, or because of something, but that love
that I felt for the first time, when dying, I saw my
enemy and yet loved him. I knew that feeling of love
which is the very essence of the soul, for which no
object is needed. And I know that blissful feeling
now too. To love one's neighbours; to love one's
enemies. To love everything- to love God in all His
manifestations. Someone dear to one can be loved with
human love; but an enemy can only be loved with
divine love. And that was why I felt such joy when I
felt that I loved that man. What happened to him? Is
he still a live?... Loving with human love, one may
pass from love to hatred; but divine love cannot
change. nothing, not even death, nothing can shatter
it. It is the very nature of the soul....
Love is life. All, all that I understand, I understand only because I love. All is, all exists only because I love. All is bound up in love alone. Love is God, and dying means for me a particle of love, to go back to the universal and eternal source of love.
from War and Peace
Leo Tolstoy
Love is life. All, all that I understand, I understand only because I love. All is, all exists only because I love. All is bound up in love alone. Love is God, and dying means for me a particle of love, to go back to the universal and eternal source of love.
from War and Peace
Leo Tolstoy
Lenten Flowers
25/03/10 19:50
Lenten
Flowers
Primrose, anemone, bluebell, moss
Grow in the Kingdom of the Cross
And the ash-tree's purple bud
Dresses the spear that sheds his blood.
With the thorns that pierce his brow
Soft encircling petals grow
For in each flower the secret lies
Of the tree that crucifies.
Garden by the water clear
All must die who enter here!
Kathleen Raine
Odilon Redon
Primrose, anemone, bluebell, moss
Grow in the Kingdom of the Cross
And the ash-tree's purple bud
Dresses the spear that sheds his blood.
With the thorns that pierce his brow
Soft encircling petals grow
For in each flower the secret lies
Of the tree that crucifies.
Garden by the water clear
All must die who enter here!
Kathleen Raine
Odilon Redon
Time and Eternity
16/03/10 20:24
IV. TIME
AND ETERNITY.
V.
On this long storm the rainbow rose,
On this late morn the sun;
The clouds, like listless elephants,
Horizons straggled down.
The birds rose smiling in their nests,
The gales indeed were done;
Alas! how heedless were the eyes
On whom the summer shone!
The quiet nonchalance of death
No daybreak can bestir;
The slow archangel's syllables
Must awaken her.
Emily Dickinson
Kandinsky
V.
On this long storm the rainbow rose,
On this late morn the sun;
The clouds, like listless elephants,
Horizons straggled down.
The birds rose smiling in their nests,
The gales indeed were done;
Alas! how heedless were the eyes
On whom the summer shone!
The quiet nonchalance of death
No daybreak can bestir;
The slow archangel's syllables
Must awaken her.
Emily Dickinson
Kandinsky
Moving sculpture
05/03/10 14:58
I have
uploaded the Greek Sculpture Slideshow on our Study
Page. There you can see 63 beautiful Greek
sculptures.
I have found Rudolf Steiner talks about eurythmy in comparison to the sculptures too....
" What has to develop out of eurythmy is a newly creating, moving sculpture. And for this living sculpture we must of course make use of the human being himself –– here one cannot use clay or marble. . . . . . Sculpture portrays what is dead in the human being, or at least that which is death-like in its rigidity. Eurythmy portrays all that in the human being which is of the life laid hold of man and placed him into earthly evolution, giving him his earthly task. There is perhaps no other art through which one can experience man's relationship to the cosmos so vividly as one is able to do through the art of eurythmy. Consequently this art of eurythmy, based on the etheric forces in man, had to appear just at that time when modern spiritual science was being sought. For it was out of this modern spiritual science that eurythmy had to be born."
From " How Does Eurythmy Stand With Regard To The Artistic Development Of The Present Day?"
Introductory words by Rudolf Steiner to the eurythmy performance 26th December 1923, Dornach.
I have found Rudolf Steiner talks about eurythmy in comparison to the sculptures too....
" What has to develop out of eurythmy is a newly creating, moving sculpture. And for this living sculpture we must of course make use of the human being himself –– here one cannot use clay or marble. . . . . . Sculpture portrays what is dead in the human being, or at least that which is death-like in its rigidity. Eurythmy portrays all that in the human being which is of the life laid hold of man and placed him into earthly evolution, giving him his earthly task. There is perhaps no other art through which one can experience man's relationship to the cosmos so vividly as one is able to do through the art of eurythmy. Consequently this art of eurythmy, based on the etheric forces in man, had to appear just at that time when modern spiritual science was being sought. For it was out of this modern spiritual science that eurythmy had to be born."
From " How Does Eurythmy Stand With Regard To The Artistic Development Of The Present Day?"
Introductory words by Rudolf Steiner to the eurythmy performance 26th December 1923, Dornach.
21/02/10 21:51
Odilon Redon
From Endymion: Book II
Brain-sick shepherd-prince,
What promise hast thou faithful guarded since
The day of sacrifice? Or, have new sorrows
Come with the constant dawn upon thy morrows?
Alas! 'tis his old grief. For many days,
Has he been wandering in uncertain ways:
Through wilderness, and woods of mossed oaks;
Counting his woe-worn minutes, by the strokes
Of the lone woodcutter; and listening still,
Hour after hour, to each lush-leav'd rill.
Now he is sitting by a shady spring,
And elbow-deep with feverous fingering
Stems the upbursting cold: a wild rose tree
Pavilions him in bloom, and he doth see
A bud which snares his fancy: lo! but now
He plucks it, dips its stalk in the water: how!
It swells, it buds, it flowers beneath his sight;
And, in the middle, there is softly pight
A golden butterfly; upon whose wings
There must be surely character'd strange things,
For with wide eye he wonders, and smiles oft.
John Keats
So much snow has fallen
08/02/10 23:49
From "Alastor: or, the Spirit of Solitude"
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood!
If our great Mother has imbued my soul
With aught of natural piety to feel
Your love, and recompense the boon with mine;
If dewy morn, and odorous noon, and even,
With sunset and its gorgeous ministers,
And solemn midnight's tingling silentness;
If Autumn's hollow sighs in the sere wood,
And inter robing with pure snow and crowns
Of starry ice the gray grass and bare boughs;
If Spring's voluptuous pantings when she breathes
Her first sweet kisses, –– have been dear to me;
If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast
I consciously have injured, but still loved
And cherished these my kindred; then forgive
This boast, belovèd brethren, and withdraw
No portion of your wonted favour now!
P. B. Shelley
Sense's dull enchantment needs the light of thinking
08/02/10 16:08
Firm grows the power of thought
In union with the spirit-birth;
And sense's dull enchantment
It brightens to full clarity.
If richness of the soul
Would join with world becoming,
Then senses' revelation
Must needs receive the light of thinking.
Es festigt sich Gedankenmacht
Im Bunde mit der Geistgeburt;
Sie hellt der Sinne dumpfe Reize
Zur vollen Klarheit auf.
Wenn Seelenfülle
Sich mit dem Weltenwerden einen will,
Muss Sinnesoffenbarung
Des Denkens Licht empfangen.
"The Calendar of the Soul"
"Seelenkalender"
45th Week 9-15 February
by Rudolf Steiner
Translation William Mann, Liselotte Mann
Enchanted Boat
01/01/10 02:57
"Mystic Boat" by Odilon Redon
Asia's song from Prometheus Unbound
My soul is an enchanted boat,
Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float
Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing :
And thine doth like and angel sit
Beside the helm conducting it,
Whilst all the wind with melody are ringing.
It seems to float ever, for ever,
Upon that many-winding river,
Between mountains, wood, abysses,
A paradise of wildernesses!
Till, like one in slumber bound,
Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,
Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound.
P. B. Shelley