WOW! Thank you for the lesson and the beautiful song! They are perfectly timed for me, as I am waiting for thunderstorms to move out of my area so that I can do what I love: hike, bike, kayak, & garden. Sending you BIG LOVE. Be well.
Yo Philip, you providing such high quality information on these somewhat niche topics are very much appreciated! I was wondering if you had any recommendations for books about spiritual perspectives on music (or art in general). Im always looking to learn more about this stuff
Here is an episode about Fröding that really touched me many years ago. It's written by painter Richard Berg who also made a famous portrait of Fröding. (Richard Berg was also a friends of the Swedish painter and Muslim Ivan Aguéli.) In order to illustrate how impervious Fröding finally became to the influence of the outside world, I would like to mention in passing an episode, when Fröding and I, on a brilliant spring winter day, traveled with jingling bells through the forests at Tullinge, which had just dressed in its most beautiful clothes, with freshly fallen snow on all branches. Everything around us twinkled and sparkled in the spring sun. And above us the sky arched clear and deep blue. It cheered inside me. I thought the blood in the veins sang like a thousand loose spring streams. Then I suddenly turned my head towards Fröding. He sat motionless with a dead expression, introverted, absent. I grabbed him by the arm and exclaimed almost fiercely: "You probably still think this is beautiful, Fröding!" He flinched, looked at me with a questioning expression. Then he slowly turned his head, first towards the forest, then up towards the sky, and then sat for a while and reflected. And when he wanted to say something kind to me, but above all wanted to be true, he said slowly and in an infinitely gentle voice, which I will never forget: "I remember that I once thought it was beautiful." There was no loss in the voice, just a general sadness. He no longer longed to return to the world of his youth. He had long since passed into another, which had completely taken him prisoner.
I wonder if haṭha yoga might've helped to regulate his nervous system and sharpen his discernment to help him make healthy decisions and feel more at ease.
I thought this was going to be an autobiography!
Remains to be seen!
"Have ever heard about Swedish poet who went insane" nailed it😂
Thanks for your dedication to research.
That song sounds great!
Thank you!
WOW! Thank you for the lesson and the beautiful song! They are perfectly timed for me, as I am waiting for thunderstorms to move out of my area so that I can do what I love: hike, bike, kayak, & garden. Sending you BIG LOVE. Be well.
Comes with the territory! Hope you can get out there sooner rather than later!
Yo Philip, you providing such high quality information on these somewhat niche topics are very much appreciated! I was wondering if you had any recommendations for books about spiritual perspectives on music (or art in general). Im always looking to learn more about this stuff
Here is an episode about Fröding that really touched me many years ago. It's written by painter Richard Berg who also made a famous portrait of Fröding. (Richard Berg was also a friends of the Swedish painter and Muslim Ivan Aguéli.)
In order to illustrate how impervious Fröding finally became to the influence of the outside world, I would like to mention in passing an episode, when Fröding and I, on a brilliant spring winter day, traveled with jingling bells through the forests at Tullinge, which had just dressed in its most beautiful clothes, with freshly fallen snow on all branches. Everything around us twinkled and sparkled in the spring sun. And above us the sky arched clear and deep blue. It cheered inside me. I thought the blood in the veins sang like a thousand loose spring streams. Then I suddenly turned my head towards Fröding. He sat motionless with a dead expression, introverted, absent. I grabbed him by the arm and exclaimed almost fiercely: "You probably still think this is beautiful, Fröding!" He flinched, looked at me with a questioning expression. Then he slowly turned his head, first towards the forest, then up towards the sky, and then sat for a while and reflected. And when he wanted to say something kind to me, but above all wanted to be true, he said slowly and in an infinitely gentle voice, which I will never forget: "I remember that I once thought it was beautiful." There was no loss in the voice, just a general sadness. He no longer longed to return to the world of his youth. He had long since passed into another, which had completely taken him prisoner.
Yes, kind of sad and beautiful!
A fellow insane writer I see.
I wonder if haṭha yoga might've helped to regulate his nervous system and sharpen his discernment to help him make healthy decisions and feel more at ease.
Loooove the way you said his last name ❤
Filip seems like the kinda guy to invite me and 3 other Americans to his village’s Midsommar festival and then we never return
You just missed it, but maybe next year
I always have time for Filip
Aşık
Have you ever tried or done psychedelics?
Insan Insane?
Genius is related to Jinn.