If you go to Beck's site and read his pieces on the greek philosophers, this is where 85% of the words came from, roughly in the order you read them, but snipped out of the full context of this voluminous stack of info.
A cut and past job, but I think the last stanza is mine. What happened was this - I cycled along the coast from Sutton to Dublin. It was dark, around 1am and very windy, but I heard a tune out to sea, but it was so soft and the wind so raw, that I could not sense where it was coming from. I thought maybe it was coming from Howth, 1500 or so meteres to my left over the sea. Maybe the wind was blowing it over from there from a session on the hillside. After a short while I began to suspect it was not originating from an outside reality, but the otherworld. Sirens out at sea communing a first glimpse of the blueprint delineating what score beyond human consciousness my soul is tuned to and plays in this world.
I was hearing my inner watermark whistling - no doubt about it - and whilst the two first notes where always the same, after they sounded the tune played a few more - very swift notes - and then trailed off beyond the edge of hearing, but kept returning, never playing the same snip of tune twice.
The wind was definately the defining force of this lightly heard phonomena.
Once I passed Bull Island I sensed the buffer of force dispell and it came again once more, twenty minutes after dissolving - later as I wheeled out of a wind swept Dublin bay and into urban shelter - a sort of final pip of luck and au revior from my daemon just after I thought the episode had ceased and so dismiss attaching any significance to what had occured in pitch dark along the storm swept bay.
A sigil for me to engage in the act of composing with the words of others.
cheers,
d.i.
A cut and past job, but I think the last stanza is mine. What happened was this - I cycled along the coast from Sutton to Dublin. It was dark, around 1am and very windy, but I heard a tune out to sea, but it was so soft and the wind so raw, that I could not sense where it was coming from. I thought maybe it was coming from Howth, 1500 or so meteres to my left over the sea. Maybe the wind was blowing it over from there from a session on the hillside. After a short while I began to suspect it was not originating from an outside reality, but the otherworld. Sirens out at sea communing a first glimpse of the blueprint delineating what score beyond human consciousness my soul is tuned to and plays in this world.
I was hearing my inner watermark whistling - no doubt about it - and whilst the two first notes where always the same, after they sounded the tune played a few more - very swift notes - and then trailed off beyond the edge of hearing, but kept returning, never playing the same snip of tune twice.
The wind was definately the defining force of this lightly heard phonomena.
Once I passed Bull Island I sensed the buffer of force dispell and it came again once more, twenty minutes after dissolving - later as I wheeled out of a wind swept Dublin bay and into urban shelter - a sort of final pip of luck and au revior from my daemon just after I thought the episode had ceased and so dismiss attaching any significance to what had occured in pitch dark along the storm swept bay.
A sigil for me to engage in the act of composing with the words of others.
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