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Creativity

“The Role of the Artist”

Everything is an instance of God – of Spirit manifest on earth.
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“What was so wrong with the wood?”

What was so wrong with the wood that it had to be carved?
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“At the Supermarket”

Outside the supermarket I was immediately attracted to – by – some wondrous patterns on a white traffic line. Of course, I started to photograph them.
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“Is carving a rock desecration?”

Is carving a rock desecration?
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“The Basic Teaching of Paracelsus and Blake”

For Paracelsus, the imagination was “the central function of man and the source of all his activities.” Blake, heavily influenced by Paracelsus, went one step beyond, capitalizing imagination which could be of anything. Blake referred to Imagination as variously “the Divine-Humanity,” “The Divine Vision,” “the Divine Arts of Imagination.”
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“What sculptor?”

What sculptor so Admires the wood?
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“Music to Remind Us”

Music,
all the Arts,
to remind us
of her Soul.
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“Does the Stone Feel?”

Does the stone feel the sculptor’s blows?
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“Hearing the Composer’s Soul, Not the Music”

A sufferer presents me with his life problems. And it's my role – as best I can – to go through that superficial presentation to his deep, deep Self – to his Soul. And, hopefully, to then guide him There – for only there will he at last find Peace and Belovedness.

As I listen to the music of Beethoven, Brahms and so many others, and I similarly sense their life problems, their alienation from their Souls: Beethoven from his, Tschaikovsky from his. And also their interpreter’s: Fürtwangler's from Beethoven's and his own. (The interpreter has this double task.)

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“Come to My Bower of Healing”

I have been watching David Attenborough’s TV program on the bowerbird. The male constructs a bower in which he carefully places very special objects to attract the female. To us, they seem so ordinary: leaves, bits of flowers, fungi, a piece of shell. And many others.

All so precisely placed within the structure of the bower. Should a rival alter the display, on his return he immediately notices and corrects. It must be just-so: his own expression unique, individual expression of what, if it were us, we would call love.

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