Stan I.S. Law's Blog
August 30, 2009
It has been said that an evergreen song is one that you think you have heard before. You can’t quite put your finger on as to where or when, but it sounds, or seems to sound, so familiar. So it is when one rediscovers Truth.
None of us have a monopoly on Truth. All we can do is try to remember when or where we heard this familiar tune before. And we all have heard it. It lingers latent in our individual, perhaps even racial memory. It touches us in our dreams, in our inexplicable desires, yens, sometimes in a feeling of unsatisfied hunger. When we remember a little better, we begin to feel a longing, homesickness, rather like Jack London’s The Call of the Wild. Only our longing is not for the wonders of nature but rather for that which frees us from fetters, from irons of limitations which we all, at one time or another, have imposed on our wings. We want to fly, to taste the freedom, which only Truth can give us.
Whatever we read, hear, espy, we cannot accept, absorb, make it or own, unless the echo of that which we hear is already reverberating within us. We do not really learn from others. We do not really accept others' philosophy, nor others religious convictions. We all tend to our gardens, to our own tiny universes, and we hope that, now and again, we shall see or hear from somewhere a word of encouragement. This slap on the back comes from finding, perhaps reading, a confirmation of what we have long suspected. Yet until we do read it, we feel lonely, uncertain. Then, finally, we come across someone who thinks in a similar vein, formulates or recognizes a vision of Truth, which heretofore has lain hidden from our timid eyes.
Yet the Truth can only come from within. The best I can hope for is to offer a verbal form, a semantic, linear expression of that which you have long suspected.
My efforts, essays, will be neither symphonies nor sonatas, but rather little airs, forgotten melodies, which I hope will strike a resonant note in your heart. I do not attempt to impress your intellect. Intellect calculates, the heart - feels. If you do recognize some melodies, don’t be surprised. Truth is One. And if any of my chords strike harmony within you, it only means that you and I found a way of looking at It from a similar vantage point. And what is more important, you will know that you are no longer alone.
***
None of us have a monopoly on Truth. All we can do is try to remember when or where we heard this familiar tune before. And we all have heard it. It lingers latent in our individual, perhaps even racial memory. It touches us in our dreams, in our inexplicable desires, yens, sometimes in a feeling of unsatisfied hunger. When we remember a little better, we begin to feel a longing, homesickness, rather like Jack London’s The Call of the Wild. Only our longing is not for the wonders of nature but rather for that which frees us from fetters, from irons of limitations which we all, at one time or another, have imposed on our wings. We want to fly, to taste the freedom, which only Truth can give us.
Whatever we read, hear, espy, we cannot accept, absorb, make it or own, unless the echo of that which we hear is already reverberating within us. We do not really learn from others. We do not really accept others' philosophy, nor others religious convictions. We all tend to our gardens, to our own tiny universes, and we hope that, now and again, we shall see or hear from somewhere a word of encouragement. This slap on the back comes from finding, perhaps reading, a confirmation of what we have long suspected. Yet until we do read it, we feel lonely, uncertain. Then, finally, we come across someone who thinks in a similar vein, formulates or recognizes a vision of Truth, which heretofore has lain hidden from our timid eyes.
Yet the Truth can only come from within. The best I can hope for is to offer a verbal form, a semantic, linear expression of that which you have long suspected.
My efforts, essays, will be neither symphonies nor sonatas, but rather little airs, forgotten melodies, which I hope will strike a resonant note in your heart. I do not attempt to impress your intellect. Intellect calculates, the heart - feels. If you do recognize some melodies, don’t be surprised. Truth is One. And if any of my chords strike harmony within you, it only means that you and I found a way of looking at It from a similar vantage point. And what is more important, you will know that you are no longer alone.
***
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Published on August 30, 2009 20:01
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Tags:
beyond, commentary, essays, kapuscinski, law, religion, stan, stanislaw, truth
August 1, 2009
Just a reminder that Biblical Symbolism, Part I: Application is offered as a FREE DOWNLOAD at http://inhousepress.ca/#ebooks
The second part (Dictionary), an “Indispensible Tool for the Understanding of the Hidden Meaning of Scriptures”, can be ordered and downloaded directly from INHOUSEPRESS for $8.50 US, payable through PayPal.
Until further notice, for my Goodreads friends only the price is reduced to $5.00.
The second part (Dictionary), an “Indispensible Tool for the Understanding of the Hidden Meaning of Scriptures”, can be ordered and downloaded directly from INHOUSEPRESS for $8.50 US, payable through PayPal.
Until further notice, for my Goodreads friends only the price is reduced to $5.00.
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Published on August 01, 2009 13:32
| 20 views
July 31, 2009
Sometimes, after dinner, we would go walking
to indulge, just for fun, in some harmless stalking.
But when I saw a girl
worthy of a whirl
Mother would start––and never stop talking.
I begged her to stop. Or, once and for all,
I said I would pack, and move down the hall.
I really would rather
live with my father;
Mother was driving me up the wall.
That’s why my father initially moved out.
(It was her mouth. Really, not his gout).
She talked all the time
Without reason or rhyme,
Driving dad crazy, for years, there’s no doubt.
If only before moving with dad... I had known
that he, too, is a pain in my innominate bone,
(He talks of his gout
driving me up the spout)
I would have looked for a pad of my own.
to indulge, just for fun, in some harmless stalking.
But when I saw a girl
worthy of a whirl
Mother would start––and never stop talking.
I begged her to stop. Or, once and for all,
I said I would pack, and move down the hall.
I really would rather
live with my father;
Mother was driving me up the wall.
That’s why my father initially moved out.
(It was her mouth. Really, not his gout).
She talked all the time
Without reason or rhyme,
Driving dad crazy, for years, there’s no doubt.
If only before moving with dad... I had known
that he, too, is a pain in my innominate bone,
(He talks of his gout
driving me up the spout)
I would have looked for a pad of my own.
July 14, 2009
When first I filled the glory of My heaven
with say… a billion, perhaps a trillion stars,
I never thought, to My great disdain,
you’d fill your streets with just as many cars.
Just to enchant you; you my favourite children,
I gave you love’n beauty, above and below,
only to find, to my further chagrin
that even I can make a fundamental flaw.
I thought I’d made you, truly in My likeness.
Hoping love’n beauty will give you a great thrill.
Alas even I, Almighty as I AM,
have erred, well… divinely, by giving you free will.
with say… a billion, perhaps a trillion stars,
I never thought, to My great disdain,
you’d fill your streets with just as many cars.
Just to enchant you; you my favourite children,
I gave you love’n beauty, above and below,
only to find, to my further chagrin
that even I can make a fundamental flaw.
I thought I’d made you, truly in My likeness.
Hoping love’n beauty will give you a great thrill.
Alas even I, Almighty as I AM,
have erred, well… divinely, by giving you free will.
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