I dedicate this site to the memory of my stepdaughter, Heather, who was murdered on Thanksgiving 2017. I want to chronicle some of the events and spiritual insights that happened. It is my hope that this may help some other souls who stumble upon this site. Maybe some good can come off this after all (read more here).  ~ May 2018

Inner voices: Robert Frost on the Gates of Truth, Niels Bohr and transferring the Mystery though language. Twitter, Twatter, Chirp-Chirp-Chirp

Again I got up early, and went outside to be with the dawn.  The sun had already begun to come up, but was still hidden beyond the great hill on the other side of the valley.

I did not know what to experience,or expect, I had no specific question, so if nothing came out of it, that would have been fine.

As is start to write the dialogue, putting down my thoughts, it had a decidedly different feel to it.  Less stream of consciousness,  more poetic.   It seemed strange yet beautiful.

And then, my inner Robert Frost came through.   

Frost was one of the greatest American poets, who often wrote about the simplicity of country life.  Of its beauty, it’s simple beauty, of being a farmer in nature.  Picking blueberries.  Paths that diverge in the woods.  And the secret that sits in the middle and knows.

Yesterday, I had written about Claude Monet and Camille Pissarro capturing that life in its simplicity, its unadorned rawness, and bringing out the beauty of it for all to see in Art.  Frost, for me, did the same in language.

So maybe it is not a coincidence that he came out, or through, or whatever you want to call it.  Again, I will let you be the judge.


4/25/2019 6:35 a.m.

Hanns (from now on 'H'):

Sunrise. Sitting outside. Twitter/Twatter/Chirp-Chirp-Chirp.  Listening. Drinking in, Dawn, Coffee.  Tasting. Seeing. Feeling. Hearing.
Being.

I am here.
I am now.
Poetic.
Poem?  What does it mean? Look it up.

*[so I did look it up - briefly:]

Poem: from Greek “poiein,”  to make create.   Form IE –kwei: to pile up, build, create

How interesting.

[I now go into a little meditative state of questioning. About, if I had to ask anything, but did not know, what would I ask?  Of being open to input.  And I listen.  Deeply, this morning.  And I am getting “Robert Frost,”  the name. I did not think of him, the name just came.  And so I ask: ]

Robert Frost, are you there?  You spoke to me.  The only poet who ever got through this thicket [my thicket] of logical thought.

An inner Voice:  Do you want us to get Robert on the line?

Hanns: Of course!

[the sun just peeks over the rim of the mountain ]

H: So Robert – what have you to say?

Robert Frost (from now on 'R'):  Vermont.

H: Yes. I love Vermont.  That is where you are from.  [not a question, but a statement]

R: Yes. It also was a place of beauty for me.
Being in the woods, the fields, it was all so simple.
Life.
All around it.
And I captured it in words.
Such simple words.
They spoke through me.
Simply.
I went out into the woods, nature, and saw the two paths diverge.
I took the path less traveled.
Mystical.
Beauty.
And it filled me with light.
And I brought out that light in language.
Yes. Language.

Language, Hanns, is also a key.

You read [Niels]  Bohr.
That all mystery has to be expressed in language, so that others can understand it, and only then can it become science. *

*[ A few days ago I read John Wheeler, Law without Law:  “… Bohr’s point [is] that no observation is an observation unless we can communicate the results of that observation to others in plain language.”  I then read a dialogue between Heisenberg and Bohr that also stresses the importance of concise language.  And that religion uses a different language.  This is addressed next: ]

But language
                     so he knew, too
is also used differently.

I, too, speak in language.

Not science.
But of that deeper mystery,
the one that fills us.

And when you READ [underlined]  that language
it spoke to you.

The mystery.
It spoke to you through my language.
Into your [underlined] language.

Mystery.

The mystery.  I felt it.

It became part of my being.

And I painted it in words.

And the words flowed into you.

Your Being.

And the same mystery unfolded.

So, I ask you, what is the difference to what Niels [Bohr, quantum physicist] described? Of that something has to be communicable before it can be accepted as the truth?

Niels took it to the quantum.

And bracketed out that mystery.
Because – it cannot be transferred in language.

So he thought.

But did I not transfer the mystery to you ?

As clearly as a mathematical formula did to, say, Heisenberg and the Club of the epistemologists?

H: Oh YES [underlined]!  I felt it all so clearly.
So clearly.

R: So you see.

Who is to be the judge of how, and who, and why, the mystery can be communed.

Language.

Poetry.

Art.

Music.

Dreams.

Mathematics.

They are all access gates
to that same mystery.

Gates of Truth. *

All you have to do is Listen [ underlined]

Listen with your heart.

H: I am listening.

Thank you so much.
I will stop and look up that term [Gates of Truth] to get it right.

R: You had/have it right.
Whatever you think you must look it up, you received it right:

Gates to the truth.

I bid you farewell.

Enjoy the day.

I know, I will, through you.
And so, I say to YOU [underlined], thank you.

H: Love.
R: Love.



*Gates of Truth:  I inserted this, but I felt I had it wrong, because it reminded me of a term I read in a research paper somewhere a few days before.   I knew it was not “Gates of Truth” but something very similar, yet different, which at the time struck me as so poetic.   

So I looked it up, and what I had thought about was the term “Gates of Times” by Quantum Physicist John A. Wheeler.   

Wheeler invented the term “Black Hole” and “Worm Hole,” so he was a Giant amongst physicists.  And philosophers, I think, it is apt to say.

And Wheeler said, there are three “Gates of time:”  the Big Bang,  Black Holes, and the Big Crunch [the idea that the universe may at one day contract again, and end up in a big crunch].

When I had read that term for the first time a few days ago, I thought it was so poetic.

And today, poetry spoke to me.

What came out was not just “The gates of time, “  but “The gates of truth.”

How poetic.

Comment #2:   Obviously, this inner dialogue is influenced by me reading and my subsequent write-up of
“the glass bead game”  by Herman Hesse. The whole point of the game is that the Mystery can only be glimpsed through not one Gate of Truth (say mathematics), but trough many simultaneously.   

I invite you to read  “Illuminating and becoming one with the great Mystery: The glass bead game

Namaste — I bow to you and the Divine in you.
~Hanns

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