musicians of old

Chapter 941 Praising the Eternal Feminine (Part 2)
"Everything inadequate begins at this point."

Therefore, the congregation in the choir continued to chant.

With deep gratitude, attachment, and longing.

More "reflections" emerge, flow, and converge on the church walls, columns, and even in the void.

Fanning saw the smiles of Sheeran, Roy, and Joan—they were real. Fanning could converse with them, hear the music they played, feel the heartbeats in their chests. Yet their forms could vanish at any moment, like salt melting in the light, reflecting countless other things—the radiant mercy of the Virgin Mary, the humility and love of Mary Magdalene wiping her feet with her hair, the Samaritan woman offering a cup of water to a stranger, the asceticism and enlightenment of the Egyptian Mary in the desert, the lifelong dedication of Mrs. Hamilton and the inspiration for the 'Resurrection Hymn' at her funeral, Miss Nightingale's hair flying in the hot wind of the fox lily field, little Luna holding up her little black umbrella and offering a bouquet of flowers. Even the protagonists who were redeemed were not Fanning. For example, behind the creations of those great artists of History 0, there were countless muses and confidants who existed but were forgotten by history, their comforters and critics, their beautiful, blurred silhouettes.
Yes, "insufficient".

An era of inadequacy, a process of inadequacy.

But if it weren't for Miss Ruoyi, who came all the way from Europe to visit, collect the paintings, and talk about "Elegy" from "The Flute of the East," and about Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, and Schubert D.960, how could a young graduate trapped in the city have finished writing that stumbling "Andante," and how could he have resigned at an almost childish pace to run to a snow-capped mountain in another foreign land to search for that "most beautiful starry sky"?
This is the guidance.

If it weren't for their brief encounter within a single day—from a casual chat with Nancy at a charity event at the Langevnis Poor Man's, to meeting a journalist who inexplicably grabbed her hand from the crowd and pulled her to a salon hammock to secretly seek her help—how ​​could that professional technician, who diligently worked on restoring collections at a Vienna auction house, have risen up against that corrupt and dark charity system, and become the astonishing person who smashed seven collections in a row amidst thousands of guests?

This is also a form of guidance.

A young man, arrogant and self-important, believed in his own "inner moral principles," yet he was merely an illegitimate son in a large family under the lord's rule. If his sister hadn't chosen to send him to the high walls of a monastery to work for the Lord, accumulate holy fame, and protect him along the way, how could he have grown up so quickly and safely? If it weren't for Nancy's "sacred music offerings" that deeply inspired him for years, what would have enabled that young man to loudly proclaim at the stake on Easter Sunday, "Whose cry reaches the Most High?"
This is also a form of guidance, and it is part of the process of guiding others.

There's also the so-called "conspiracy" just revealed, and the so-called "aggregator" and "attractor" of the key.

So what?

Isn't this a form of guidance?

Fanning will never forget the summer pastures under a sky full of stars, the figure sitting with his hands on the ground, saying to himself, "How beautiful the morning stars are"; he will never forget the regret and nameless relief of holding hands with the person next to him when the cold underground river was up to his nose, imagining "building a composing hut by Lake Mertraun"; he will never forget the Po River plains permeated by twilight, the castle rooftop, the boudoir study, the girl's hair falling as she recited poems such as "Picking Lotus" and "Drunkenly Expressing My Aspirations in Spring", and the still water in her eyes reflecting the stars when listening to his interpretation of the translation.

Isn't this still considered guiding?

"May your will be done," Fanning murmured in his heart.

They come in different forms, from different eras, and have vastly different stories, but the shared qualities of gentleness, purity, acceptance, understanding, nurturing, inspiring, and forgiving, and the ability to guide in the darkness, bring Fanning closer to that realm of ultimate truth.

The lyrics sung by the congregation in the choir, “Things that cannot be named, begin to be carried out from here,” were pushed to a new verse.

The church began to rise again.

It was no use. Even at a great height, even with the "Secret of the End" pulling down at an unbelievable intensity, it was still useless.

Indeed, the "Secret of the End" can, through the worm's robustness, suppress the power of the Witness Lord level and drag everything it wants out of the "Door Gate." But it cannot contend with the pull of the "Great Deeds," it cannot.

"Fanning! Master Fanning, tell me! What is this you wrote?! Why can this be considered a 'pillar'? You just randomly picked three people!? And drew a triangle!? I don't understand! What is this—"

Mr. F's voice, like a kite with a broken string, was lost in the concept that everything was becoming "curled up".

It's ridiculous to still be agonizing over "three things".

The textures of everything were smoothed out, everything became as smooth as a mirror, as clear as glass, and began to "crystallize" into glass-like frost flowers.

“Things that cannot be named, only now can they be truly carried out.” Fan Ning smiled quietly and personally joined the choir’s chanting, filled with the joy of enlightenment and the solemnity of realization.

All the mysterious voices yearn for perfect fusion, yearning to form a torrent surging upwards.

In the struggle to survive, people make mistakes, and are saved through loving and being loved. This seems illogical and inexplicable on earth, but it is perfectly clear and natural in heaven.

Because this divinity is the divinity of "loving others," even the absolutely pure "Purema" will still have those feelings, concerns, compassion, empathy, and anger from before, which is quite obvious and natural.

Thus, Fanning finally truly mastered this new and unique divinity.

He finally found the purest form, the most perfect answer.

That metaphor for the noblest thing in the world.

That definition touches on the essence even more than "Our Lady of Glory"!

On the altar, he released his guitar, opened his arms, and felt the boundless and vast truth rushing towards him!

He embraced them, and they embraced him.

Those truths are like a mother's embrace, a lover's bosom, the vibrant breath of a young girl carried on a gentle breeze, a toddler babbling in your lap; like the dew on the grass, the milk of a cow, the fragrance of flowers, the fruit of a bountiful tree; like the ultimate lyrics of this mystical chorus, a statement of essence, surpassing any worldly insight or prayer!

"All things are impermanent; all phenomena are fleeting."
Everything that is incomplete begins at this point;
Things that cannot be named are only now being put into practice;
"Eternal femininity, guide me to ascension!"

As the music of the Eighth Symphony progresses, all the earthly metaphors, religious metaphors, the leaps between the concepts of "Pentecost," "Faust," and "Our Lady of Glory" finally lead Fanning to that once unspeakable and unimaginable highest realm—"the Eternal Feminine"!