A Quote by Tom Kenyon

I become like a tuning fork to the information that is coming through me, in shamanism they call it being the 'hollow reed'. — © Tom Kenyon
I become like a tuning fork to the information that is coming through me, in shamanism they call it being the 'hollow reed'.
Vienna, to me it was the tuning fork for the entire world. Saying the word Vienna was like striking a tuning fork and then listening to find what tone it called forth in the person I was talking to. It was how I tested people. If there was no response, this was not the kind of person I liked. Vienna wasn't just a city, it was a tone that either one carries forever in one's soul or one does not. It was the most beautiful thing in my life. I was poor, but I was not alone, because I had a friend.
If my dinner was really hot, I'd put my fork up to my eye and look at my little brother through the steam coming off the food. He'd say: 'Mum, he's looking at me through his fork again.' It sent him insane.
Earthly riches are like the reed. Its roots are sunk in the swamp, and its exterior is fair to behold; but inside it is hollow. If a man leans on such a reed, it will snap off and pierce his soul.
Intention appears to be something akin to a tuning fork, causing the tuning forks of other things in the universe to resonate at the same frequency
I always want to be in love, always. It's like being a tuning fork.
For a smart material to be able to send out a more complex signal it needs to be nonlinear. If you hit a tuning fork twice as hard it will ring twice as loud but still at the same frequency. That's a linear response. If you hit a person twice as hard they're unlikely just to shout twice as loud. That property lets you learn more about the person than the tuning fork.
Literally as I walk into the studio I say, "God, hollow me of all my junk. Hollow me of my insecurity, my pride and my doubt. Make me hollow enough that you can breathe something through me that would turn eyes to you." And whether that's a song or a conversation you're going to have with a co-worker, or whatever you're facing, that's for everybody.
I wanted a line in a poem to be the hollow ney of the dervish orchestra whose plaintive wail is a call to God. But all I achieved was awkward shrieking. Not even the pure shriek of a reed in the rain.
I don't believe that shamanism without hallucinogens is authentic shamanism or comfortable shamanism.
All life has emptiness at its core; it is the quiet hollow reed through which the wind of God blows and makes the music that is our life.
I'm a tuning fork, tense and twanging all the time.
Anything you make has its own wavelength and its own sound. It's like a tuning fork, until the things that resonate are correct for it.
In a few hours one could cover that incalculable distance; from the winter country and homely neighbours, to the city where the air trembled like a tuning-fork with unimaginable possibilities.
It's like being possessed: like a psychic or a medium. I felt like a hollow temple filled with many spirits, each one passing through me, each inhabiting me for a little time and then leaving to be replaced by another.
The life of expression is the tuning fork by which we find our way to the sacred.
I'm still not certain on the nature of the spork, whether it is a fork and a spoon, or a fork and a knife mixed together, or maybe a fork and a fork on top. Life is full of mysteries yeah man
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