John 3: 6 That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7 Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again. 8 The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.
'Make sure you have carrots in your pockets!' We were going on another walk. The wind was rising so I was taking my sons to what looked to me like a barren moor but was actually a grassy hill in Galilee.
On the way, we passed a fenced in yard with horses. White, spirited horses. They would dance when they saw us. They knew we had carrots in our pockets and sometimes an apple core.
When our pockets were empty and muzzles were petted, we'd refill them with stones as we walked on.
I can still see the valley below and feel my heart fly out with those stones as my toddlers threw them but I was holding their hands tight.
Oh and if the wind picked up, we could follow them for many heartbeats...
But that wasn't the goal. We kept on and maybe I'd give them a cookie from my backpack or maybe some Bomba...(peanut butter Cheetos, it's the best!)
Oh keep blowing wind, across this abandoned hilltop that looked like it was being used for a dump. But that was good, because that was where the treasure was, in the trash.
Now we could hear it low and warming, a good feeling in your core.
My wind flute... a discarded twenty foot, 10 inch wide pipe. The mouthpiece was made by rust or maybe it had some forgotten purpose but now the wind played it for me and my sons made it their playground.
The sound filled me up.
I want to try and make a wind flute on my roof. Made of old pipe but 'born of the Spirit.'
Romans 5:3 But not only that, let us also boast in our troubles; because we know that trouble produces endurance, 4 endurance produces character, and character produces hope; 5 and this hope does not let us down, because God's love for us has already been poured out in our hearts through the Ruach HaKodesh who has been given to us.
Here's a passage about a wind harp, I think I was reading this book when I found my flute. Maybe you can make one of these?
"I wonder," said lady Arctura, "what that curious opening in the side of the chimney-stack means! It can't be for smoke to come out at!"
"No," said Donal; "there is not a mark of smoke about it. If it had been meant for that, it would hardly have been put half-way from the top! I can't make it out! A hole like that in any chimney must surely interfere with the draught! I must get a ladder!"
"Let me climb on your shoulders, Mr. Grant," said Davie.
"Come then; up you go!" said Donal.
And up went Davie, and peeped into the horizontal slit.
"It looks very like a chimney," he said, turning his head and thrusting it in sideways. "It goes right down to somewhere," he added, bringing his head out again, "but there is something across it a little way down--to prevent the jackdaws from tumbling in, I suppose."
"What is it?" asked Donal.
"Something like a grating," answered Davie; "--no, not a grating exactly; it is what you might call a grating, but it seems made of wires. I don't think it would keep a strong bird out if he wanted to get in."
"Aha!" said Donal to himself; "what if those wires be tuned! Did you ever see an aeolian harp, my lady?" he asked: "I never did."
"Yes," answered lady Arctura, "--once, when I was a little girl. And now you suggest it, I think the sounds we hear are not unlike those of an aeolian harp! The strings are all the same length, if I remember. But I do not understand the principle. They seem all to play together, and make the strangest, wildest harmonies, when the wind blows across them in a particular way."
"I fancy then we have found the nest of our music-bird!" said Donal. "The wires Davie speaks of may be the strings of an aeolian harp! I wonder if there could be a draught across them! I must get up and see! I must go and get a ladder!"
"But how could there be an aeolian harp up here?" said Arctura.
"It will be time enough to answer that question," replied Donal, "when it changes to, 'How did an aeolian harp get up here?' Something is here that wants accounting for: it may be an aeolian harp!"
"But in a chimney! The soot would spoil the strings!"
"Then perhaps it is not a chimney: is there any sign of soot about, Davie?"
"No, sir; there is nothing but clean stone and lime."
"You see, my lady! We do not even know that it is a chimney!"
"What else can it be, standing with the rest?"
"It may have been built for one; but if it had ever been used for one, the marks of smoke would remain, had it been disused ever so long. .....
He turned to his ladder, set it right, mounted, and peered into the opening. At the length of his arm he could reach the wires Davie had described: they were taut, and free of rust--were therefore not iron or steel. He saw also that a little down the shaft a faint light came in from the opposite side: there was another opening somewhere! Next he saw that each following string--for strings he already counted them--was placed a little lower than that before it, so that their succession was inclined to the other side of the shaft--apparently in a plane between the two openings, that a draught might pass along their plane: this must surely be the instrument whence the music flowed! He descended.
"Do you know, my lady," he asked Arctura, "how the aeolian harp is placed for the wind to wake it?"
"The only one I have seen," she answered, "was made to fit into a window; the lower sash was opened just wide enough to let it in, so that the wind entering must pass across the strings."
Then Donal was all but certain.
"Of course," he said, after describing what he had seen, "we cannot be absolutely sure without having been here with the music, and having experimented by covering and uncovering the opening; and for that we must wait a south-easterly wind."
» George MacDonald » Donal Grant » Chapter XLI. The Music-Nest.
'Make sure you have carrots in your pockets!' We were going on another walk. The wind was rising so I was taking my sons to what looked to me like a barren moor but was actually a grassy hill in Galilee.
On the way, we passed a fenced in yard with horses. White, spirited horses. They would dance when they saw us. They knew we had carrots in our pockets and sometimes an apple core.
When our pockets were empty and muzzles were petted, we'd refill them with stones as we walked on.
I can still see the valley below and feel my heart fly out with those stones as my toddlers threw them but I was holding their hands tight.
Oh and if the wind picked up, we could follow them for many heartbeats...
But that wasn't the goal. We kept on and maybe I'd give them a cookie from my backpack or maybe some Bomba...(peanut butter Cheetos, it's the best!)
Oh keep blowing wind, across this abandoned hilltop that looked like it was being used for a dump. But that was good, because that was where the treasure was, in the trash.
Now we could hear it low and warming, a good feeling in your core.
My wind flute... a discarded twenty foot, 10 inch wide pipe. The mouthpiece was made by rust or maybe it had some forgotten purpose but now the wind played it for me and my sons made it their playground.
The sound filled me up.
I want to try and make a wind flute on my roof. Made of old pipe but 'born of the Spirit.'
Romans 5:3 But not only that, let us also boast in our troubles; because we know that trouble produces endurance, 4 endurance produces character, and character produces hope; 5 and this hope does not let us down, because God's love for us has already been poured out in our hearts through the Ruach HaKodesh who has been given to us.
Here's a passage about a wind harp, I think I was reading this book when I found my flute. Maybe you can make one of these?
"I wonder," said lady Arctura, "what that curious opening in the side of the chimney-stack means! It can't be for smoke to come out at!"
"No," said Donal; "there is not a mark of smoke about it. If it had been meant for that, it would hardly have been put half-way from the top! I can't make it out! A hole like that in any chimney must surely interfere with the draught! I must get a ladder!"
"Let me climb on your shoulders, Mr. Grant," said Davie.
"Come then; up you go!" said Donal.
And up went Davie, and peeped into the horizontal slit.
"It looks very like a chimney," he said, turning his head and thrusting it in sideways. "It goes right down to somewhere," he added, bringing his head out again, "but there is something across it a little way down--to prevent the jackdaws from tumbling in, I suppose."
"What is it?" asked Donal.
"Something like a grating," answered Davie; "--no, not a grating exactly; it is what you might call a grating, but it seems made of wires. I don't think it would keep a strong bird out if he wanted to get in."
"Aha!" said Donal to himself; "what if those wires be tuned! Did you ever see an aeolian harp, my lady?" he asked: "I never did."
"Yes," answered lady Arctura, "--once, when I was a little girl. And now you suggest it, I think the sounds we hear are not unlike those of an aeolian harp! The strings are all the same length, if I remember. But I do not understand the principle. They seem all to play together, and make the strangest, wildest harmonies, when the wind blows across them in a particular way."
"I fancy then we have found the nest of our music-bird!" said Donal. "The wires Davie speaks of may be the strings of an aeolian harp! I wonder if there could be a draught across them! I must get up and see! I must go and get a ladder!"
"But how could there be an aeolian harp up here?" said Arctura.
"It will be time enough to answer that question," replied Donal, "when it changes to, 'How did an aeolian harp get up here?' Something is here that wants accounting for: it may be an aeolian harp!"
"But in a chimney! The soot would spoil the strings!"
"Then perhaps it is not a chimney: is there any sign of soot about, Davie?"
"No, sir; there is nothing but clean stone and lime."
"You see, my lady! We do not even know that it is a chimney!"
"What else can it be, standing with the rest?"
"It may have been built for one; but if it had ever been used for one, the marks of smoke would remain, had it been disused ever so long. .....
He turned to his ladder, set it right, mounted, and peered into the opening. At the length of his arm he could reach the wires Davie had described: they were taut, and free of rust--were therefore not iron or steel. He saw also that a little down the shaft a faint light came in from the opposite side: there was another opening somewhere! Next he saw that each following string--for strings he already counted them--was placed a little lower than that before it, so that their succession was inclined to the other side of the shaft--apparently in a plane between the two openings, that a draught might pass along their plane: this must surely be the instrument whence the music flowed! He descended.
"Do you know, my lady," he asked Arctura, "how the aeolian harp is placed for the wind to wake it?"
"The only one I have seen," she answered, "was made to fit into a window; the lower sash was opened just wide enough to let it in, so that the wind entering must pass across the strings."
Then Donal was all but certain.
"Of course," he said, after describing what he had seen, "we cannot be absolutely sure without having been here with the music, and having experimented by covering and uncovering the opening; and for that we must wait a south-easterly wind."
» George MacDonald » Donal Grant » Chapter XLI. The Music-Nest.
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