indulge the passion download

"Indulge the Passion" - music for 7-word-influences & monetary capitals - 2012 - Download - MP3s (320kBit/s 44kHz Stereo) RAR-File Prices = Euro - - -
"Indulge the passion" - Complete - over 65 Minutes - 9 Tracks - 9,00 Euro - - -

1) "Immortal Hours and Passion Flowers" (Quaeschning/Heidemann) Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Synthesizer, Cymbals, Djembe, Xylophon, Electric-Guitar Juergen Heidemann : Sound-Stones, Stones, Rainstick Vincent Nowak : Cajon, Shaker Tommy Betzler : Gong "The Immortal Hour" (by Rachel Annand Taylor) Still as great waters lying in the West, So is my spirit still. I lay my folded hands within Thy breast, My will within Thy will. O Fortune, idle pedlar, pass me by. O Death, keep far from me who cannot die. The passion-flowers are lacing oer the sill Of my low door.-As dews their sweetness fill, So do I rest in Thee. It is mine hour. Let none set foot therein. It is mine hour unflawed of pain or sin. Tis laid and steeped in silence, till it be A solemn dazzling crystal, to outlast And storm the eyes of poets when long-past Is all the changing dream of Thee and Me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2) „The Rose and the Cross (Quaeschning) Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Synthesizer, Djembe, Electric-Guitar, Vocals, Cymbals Juergen Heidemann : Soundstone, Stones Kai Hanuschka : Cymbals Nadine Gomez : Violin Vanessa O : Cello "The Rose and the Cross" (by Aleister Crowley) Oou of the seething cauldron of my woes, Where sweets and salt and bitterness I flung; Where charmèd music gathered from my tongue, And where I chained strange archipelagoes Of fallen stars; where fiery passion flows A curious bitumen; where among The glowing medley moved the tune unsung Of perfect love: thence grew the Mystic Rose. Its myriad petals of divided light; Its leaves of the most radiant emerald; Its heart of fire like rubies. At the sight I lifted up my heart to God and called: How shall I pluck this dream of my desire? And lo! there shaped itself the Cross of Fire! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 3) „Seperate Existence (Beator) Sascha Beator : Synthesizer Kai Hanuschka : Cajon, Darbuka David See : Electric-Mandolin Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Synthesizer "Humanitad" (by Oscar Wilde) TO make the Body and the Spirit one With all right things, till no thing live in vain From morn to noon, but in sweet unison With every pulse of flesh and throb of brain The Soul in flawless essence high enthroned, Against all outer vain attack invincibly bastioned, Mark with serene impartiality The strife of things, and yet be comforted, Knowing that by the chain causality All separate existences are wed Into one supreme whole, whose utterance Is joy, or holier praise! ah! surely this were governance Of Life in most august omnipresence, Through which the rational intellect would find In passion its expression, and mere sense, Ignoble else, lend fire to the mind, And being joined with it in harmony More mystical than that which binds the stars planetary, Strike from their several tones one octave chord Whose cadence being measureless would fly Through all the circling spheres, then to its Lord Return refreshed with its new empery And more exultant power,-this indeed Could we but reach it were to find the last, the perfect creed. O smitten mouth! O forehead crowned with thorn! O chalice of all common miseries! Thou for our sakes that loved thee not hast borne An agony of endless centuries, And we were vain and ignorant nor knew That when we stabbed thy heart it was our own real hearts we slew. Being ourselves the sowers and the seeds, The night that covers and the lights that fade, The spear that pierces and the side that bleeds, The lips betraying and the life betrayed; The deep hath calm: the moon hath rest: but we Lords of the natural world are yet our own dread enemy. Is this the end of all that primal force Which, in its changes being still the same, From eyeless Chaos cleft its upward course, Through ravenous seas and whirling rocks and flame, Till the suns met in heaven and began Their cycles, and the morning stars sang, and the Word was Man! Nay, nay, we are but crucified, and though The bloody sweat falls from our brows like rain, Loosen the nails-we shall come down I know, Stanch the red wounds-we shall be whole again, No need have we of hyssop-laden rod, That which is purely human, that is Godlike, that is God. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 4) „Speaking Stillness in the Rose-Flushed-Snow (Quaeschning/Beator) Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Synthesizer, Electric-Guitar, Electric-Kazzoo Sascha Beator : Synthesizer Kai Hanuschka : Drums Vincent Nowak : Drums Djirre : Electric-Guitar Stephen Mortimer : Acoustic-Guitar Thorsten Spiller : Acoustic-Guitar "The Creed of My Heart" (by Edmond Gore Alexander Holmes) A FLAME in my heart is kindled by the might of the morns pure breath; A passion beyond all passion; a faith that eclipses faith; A joy that is more than gladness; a hope that outsoars desire; A love that consumes and quickens; a soul-transfiguring fire. My life is possessed and mastered: my heart is inspired and filled. All other visions have faded: all other voices are stilled. My doubts are vainer than shadows: my fears are idler than dreams: They vanish like breaking bubbles, those old soul-torturing themes. The riddles of life are cancelled, the problems that bred despair: I cannot guess them or solve them, but I know that they are not there. They are past, they are all forgotten, the breeze has blown them away; For lifes inscrutable meaning is clear as the dawn of day. It is there-the secret of Nature-there in the mornings glow; There in the speaking stillness; there in the rose-flushed snow. It is here in the joy and rapture; here in my pulsing breast: I feel what has neer been spoken: I know what has neer been guessed. The rose-lit clouds of morning; the sun-kissed mountain heights; The orient streaks and flushes; the mingling shadows and lights; The flow of the lonely river; the voice of its distant stream; The mists that rise from the meadows, lit up by the suns first beam;- They mingle and melt as I watch them; melt and mingle and die. The land is one with the water: the earth is one with the sky. The parts are as parts no longer: Nature is All and One: Her life is achieved, completed: her days of waiting are done I breathe the breath of the morning. I am one with the one World-Soul. I live my own life no longer, but the life of the living Whole. I am more than self: I am selfless: I am more than self: I am I. I have found the springs of my being in the flush of the eastern sky. I-the true self, the spirit, the self that is born of death- I have found the flame of my being in the morns ambrosial breath. I lose my life for a season: I lose it beyond recall: But I find it renewed, rekindled, in the life of the One, the All. I look not forward or backward: the abysses of time are nought. From pole to pole of the heavens I pass in a flash of thought. I clasp the world to my bosom: I feel its pulse in my breast,- The pulse of measureless motion, the pulse of fathomless rest. Is it motion or rest that thrills me? Is it lightning or moonlit peace? Am I freer than waves of ether, or prisoned beyond release? I know not; but through my spirit, within me, around, above, The world-wide river is streaming, the river of life and love. Silent, serene, eternal, passionless, perfect, pure;- I may not measure its windings, but I know that its aim is sure. In its purity seethes all passion: in its silence resounds all song: Its strength is builded of weakness: its right is woven of wrong. I am borne afar on its bosom; yet its source and its goal are mine, From the sacred springs of Creation to the ocean of love Divine. I have ceased to think or to reason: there is nothing to ponder or prove: I hope, I believe no longer: I am lost in a dream of love. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- „Beatific Vision (Quaeschning) Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Piano, Synthesizer, Electric-Guitar, Glockenspiel, Memotron Kai Hanuschka : Cajon Tommy Betzler : Gong "The Beatific Vision" (by Frederick William Orde Ward) BETWIXT the dawning and the day it came Upon me like a spell, While tolled a distant bell, A wondrous vision but without a name In pomp of shining mist and shadowed flame, Exceeding terrible; Before me seemed to open awful Space, And sheeted tower and spire With forms of shrouded tire Arose and beckoned with unearthly grace, I felt a Presence though I saw no face But the dark rolling fire. And then a Voice as sweet and soft as tears But yet of gladness part, Thrilled through my inmost heart, Which told the secret of the solemn years And swept away the clouds of gloomy fears, The riddles raised by art; Till all my soul was bathed with trembling joy And lost in dreadful bliss, As at Gods very kiss, While the earth shrivelled up its broken toy, And like a rose the heavens no longer coy Laid bare their blue abyss. The giant wheels and all the hidden springs Of this most beauteous globe, Which man may never probe, Burst on me with a blaze of angel wings And each bright orb that like a diamond clings To the veiled Fathers robe: I saw with vision that was more than sight, The levers and the laws That fashion stars as straws And link with perfect loveliness of right, In the pure duty that is pure delight And to one Center draws. I knew with sudden insight all was best, The passion and the pain, The searching that seem vain But lead if by dim blood-stained steps to Rest. And only are the beatings of Gods Breast Beneath the iron chain; I knew each work was blessèd in its place, The eagle and the dove, While Nature was the glove Of that dear Hand which everywhere we trace, I felt a Presence though I saw no face, And it was boundless Love. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- „Fiery Fountain of the Stars (Beator) Sascha Beator : Synthesizer, Electric-Guitar Kai Hanuschka : Cajon, Darbuka David See : Electric-Mandolin Djirre : Electric-Guitar Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Electric-Guitar "Krishna" (by George William Russell) I PAUSED beside the cabin door and saw the King of Kings at play,"" Tumbled upon the grass I spied the little heavenly runaway. The mother laughed upon the child made gay by its ecstatic morn, And yet the sages spake of It as of the Ancient and Unborn. I heard the passion breathed amid the honeysuckle scented glade, And saw the King pass lightly from the beauty that he had betrayed. I saw him pass from love to love; and yet the pure allowed His claim To be the purest of the pure, thrice holy, stainless, without blame. I saw the open tavern door flash on the dusk a ruddy glare, And saw the King of Kings outcast reel brawling through the starlit air. And yet He is the Prince of Peace of whom the ancient wisdom tells, And by their silence men adore the lovely silence where He dwells. I saw the King of Kings again, a thing to shudder at and fear, A form so darkened and so marred that childhood fled if it drew near. And yet He is the Light of Lights whose blossoming is Paradise, That Beauty of the King which dawns upon the seers enraptured eyes. I saw the King of Kings again, a miser with a heart grown cold, And yet He is the Prodigal, the Spendthrift of the Heavenly Gold, The largesse of whose glory crowns the blazing brows of cherubim, And sun and moon and stars and flowers are jewels scattered forth by Him. I saw the King of Kings descend the narrow doorway to the dust With all his fires of morning still, the beauty, bravery, and lust. And yet He is the life within the Ever-living Living Ones, The ancient with eternal youth, the cradle of the infant suns, The fiery fountain of the stars, and He the golden urn where all The glittering spray of planets in their myriad beauty fall. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- „Passion of Regret (Quaeschning) Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Harmophon, Piano, Synthesizer, Electric-Guitar, Glockenspiel, Drums, Memotron, Djembe, Darbuka Kai Hanuschka : Drums, Cajon, Djembe Vincent Nowak : Drums Djirre : Electric-Guitar Tommy Betzler : Gong, Drums The Disciples (by Harriet Eleanor Hamilton-King) WE suffer. Why we suffer,-that is hid With Gods foreknowledge in the clouds of Heaven. The first book written sends that human cry Out of the clear Chaldean pasture-lands Down forty centuries; and no answer yet Is found, nor will be found, while yet we live In limitations of Humanity. But yet one thought has often stayed by me In the night-watches, which has brought at least The patience for the hour, and made the pain No more a burden which I groaned to leave, But something precious which I feared to lose. -How shall I show it, but by parables? The sculptor, with his Psyches wings half-hewn May close his eyes in weariness, and wake To meet the white cold clay of his ideal Flushed into beating life, and singing down The ways of Paradise. The husbandman May leave the golden fruitage of his groves Ungarnered, and upon the Tree of Life Will find a richer harvest waiting him. The soldier dying thinks upon his bride, And knows his arms shall never clasp her more, Until he first the face of his unborn child Behold in heaven: for each and all of life, In every phase of action, love, and joy, There is fulfilment only otherwhere.- But if, impatient, thou let slip thy cross, Thou wilt not find it in this world again, Nor in another; here, and here alone Is given thee to suffer for Gods sake. In other worlds we shall more perfectly Serve Him and love Him, praise Him, work for Him, Grow near and nearer Him with all delight; But then we shall not any more be called To suffer, which is our appointment here. Canst thou not suffer then one hour,-or two? If He should call thee from thy cross to-day, Saying, It is finished!-that hard cross of thine From which thou prayest for deliverance, Thinkest thou not some passion of regret Would overcome thee? Thou wouldst say, So soon? Let me go back, and suffer yet awhile More patiently;-I have not yet praised God. And He might answer to thee,-Never more. All pain is done with. Whensoeer it comes, That summons that we look for, it will seem Soon, yea too soon. Let us take heed in time That God may now be glorified in us; And while we suffer, let us set our souls To suffer perfectly: since this alone, The suffering, which is this worlds special grace, May here be perfected and left behind. -But in obedience and humility;- Waiting on Gods hand, not forestalling it. Seek not to snatch presumptuously the palm By self-election; poison not thy wine With bitter herbs if He has made it sweet; Nor rob Gods treasuries because the key Is easy to be turned by mortal hands. The gifts of birth, death, genius, suffering, Are all for His hand only to bestow. Receive thy portion, and be satisfied. Who crowns himself a king is not the more Royal; nor he who mars himself with stripes The more partaker of the Cross of Christ. But if Himself He come to thee, and stand Beside thee, gazing down on thee with eyes That smile, and suffer; that will smite thy heart, With their own pity, to a passionate peace; And reach to thee Himself the Holy Cup (With all its wreathen stems of passion-flowers And quivering sparkles of the ruby stars), Pallid and royal, saying Drink with Me Wilt thou refuse? Nay, not for Paradise! The pale brow will compel thee, the pure hands Will minister unto thee; thou shalt take Of that communion through the solemn depths Of the dark waters of thine agony, With heart that praises Him, that yearns to Him The closer through that hour. Hold fast His hand, Though the nails pierce thine too! take only care Lest one drop of the sacramental wine Be spilled, of that which ever shall unite Thee, soul and body to thy living Lord! Therefore gird up thyself, and come, to stand Unflinching under the unfaltering hand, That waits to prove thee to the uttermost. It were not hard to suffer by His hand, If thou couldst see His face;-but in the dark! That is the one last trial:-be it so. Christ was forsaken, so must thou be too: How couldst thou suffer but in seeming, else? Thou wilt not see the face nor feel the hand, Only the cruel crushing of the feet, When through the bitter night the Lord comes down To tread the winepress.-Not by sight, but faith, Endure, endure,-be faithful to the end! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 8) „Compass Me (Quaeschning) Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Synthesizer, Kora, Vocals, Koto Kai Hanuschka : Cajon, Djembe Vincent Nowak : Didgeridoo Djirre : Electric-Guitar Juergen Heidemann : Soundstone, Vocals, Ocean-Drum Tommy Betzler : Gong "Communion" (by John Bannister Tabb) ONCE when my heart was passion-free To learn of things divine, The soul of nature suddenly Outpoured itself in mine. I held the secrets of the deep, And of the heavens above; I knew the harmonies of sleep, The mysteries of love. And for a moments interval The earth, the sky, the sea- My soul encompassed, each and all, As now they compass me. To one in all, to all in one- Since Love the work began- Lifes ever widening circles run, Revealing God and man. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 9) „Continuous Aspiration (Quaeschning) Thorsten „Q Quaeschning : Synthesizer, Drums Kai Hanuschka : Drums Djirre : Electric-Guitar The Souls Travelling (by Elizabeth Barrett Browning) GOD, God! With a childs voice I cry, Weak, sad, confidingly- God, God! Thou knowest, eyelids, raised not always up Unto Thy love (as none of ours are), droop As ours, oer many a tear! Thou knowest, though Thy universe is broad, Two little tears suffice to cover all: Thou knowest, Thou, who art so prodigal Of beauty, we are oft but stricken deer Expiring in the woods-that care for none Of those delightsome flowers they die upon. O blissful Mouth which breathed the mournful breath We name our souls, self-spoilt!-by that strong passion Which paled Thee once with sighs,-by that strong death Which made Thee once unbreathing-from the wrack Themselves have called around them, call them back, Back to Thee in continuous aspiration! For here, O Lord, For here they travel vainly,-vainly pass From city-pavement to untrodden sward, Where the lark finds her deep nest in the grass Cold with the earths last dew. Yea, very vain The greatest speed of all these souls of men Unless they travel upward to the throne Where sittest THOU, the satisfying ONE, With help for sins and holy perfectings For all requirements-while the archangel, raising Unto Thy face his full ecstatic gazing, Forgets the rush and rapture of his wings. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LineUp: Thorsten "Q" Quaeschning Synthesizer, Kora, Koto, Vocals, Glockenspiel, Piano, Drums, Memotron, Organ, Electric-Guitar, Lapsteel-Guitar, Electric-Kazzoo, Harmophon, Darbuka, Djembe, Ebow-Guitar, Vocoder, Xylophon Sascha Beator Synthesizer Kai Hanuschka Drums, Darbuka, Djembe, Cajon Vincent Nowak Drums, Didgeridoo, Darbuka, Djembe, Shaker, Cajon Djirre Electric-Guitar, Acoustic-Guitar, Electric-Mandolin Juergen Heidemann Sound-Stones, Stones, Vocals, Rainstick David See Electric-Mandolin, Electric-Guitar Stephen Mortimer Acoustic-Guitar, Electric-Guitar Thorsten Spiller Acoustic-Guitar Tommy Betzler Drums, Gongs, Shaker, Djembe, Darbuka Nadine Gomez Violin Vanessa O. Cello