Talking to Phil on the Phone night before last...Actually I guess the night before that--

watching the moon rise--while he was talking from the edge of a meadow in the broad morning light of Westphalia, some 40 kilometers east of Cologne--We ran through a variety of topics, dwelling lovingly on some (like the precise Castilian intonation, with just a hint of a lisp, in which Doña Sofía warbles "esos exhibicionistas pervertidos"), flitting like may-bugs over and past such colossal turds in the punchbowl of the world as the increasing U.S. military presence in Iraq and "our" support of fascism in Ukraine--and suddenly Phil was blurting, "After all, isn't everything vibration?  And periodicity?  And Time?  Isn't Time the same as Being?"  

And I, of course, said "Hell, yes!  And the infinite permutations of Time,  Event, Vibration and Sequence are..."

"The Harmony of the Music of the Spheres--and of J.S. Bach!"

Well, something like that.