“The man who has experienced shipwreck shudders even at a calm sea.” - Ovid
Poets and Storytellers this week invites us to find inspiration in the titles of Florence + The Machine’s latest album, 'Everybody Scream'. I was not aware of this group’s music until I read the prompt and I had to go and listen to a few songs. Even though theirs is not a genre that I am particularly fond of, the setting of some of the video clips was particularly inspiring. And Love of course is always a good prompt. The wild Northern landscapes inspired my poem as a folk song, and it is set as such in my appended song…
My fairest love is far away, And far from her I have to stay; I long for her caresses The perfume of her tresses…
Her eyes wide open smiling Her ruby lips beguiling; I long to have her in my arms, Surrender to her charms…
Blow, wind, blow tender breezes Caress her as she pleases; Shine sun, and gentle moon, And give to her my boon: My earnest kiss so sweet Tell her that soon we’ll meet.
My fairest love is sleeping, And in her dreams is keeping Our sacred, solemn troth Embroidered on rich cloth.
Her breast is gently heaving In sleep she is believing, That soon we’ll be together Despite the raging weather.
Stop, wind, stop storm and gale My ship do not assail, Rain, woeful waterspout, My ship don’t knock about; My love is dreaming, waiting, This storm need be abating.
Wind, why do you blow so wild? Why have you sea defiled? Why waves so high you raise, Why do my craft you raze? In the blue ocean depth, Tell her I love, even in death.
The poem is set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
Please note that there is delay between my uploading the music and your being able to access it. YouTube is generally the fastest to release the song.
“Blackness remains the coat you can't take off.” - Clint Smith
The New What’s Going on Blogthis week advises: “Choose one color--black or white--and explore the depths of meaning the color has for you. Write a poem that immerses itself in EITHER black or white, but not both. Don't even mention the other color in your poem.”I chose black. Black as a state of mind, as a feeling, as an essence of being - the black of despair, the black of the mood one cannot be rid of, the black of hopelessness and anguish…
Black Black is my life, dark is my lot, And happiness, all’s gone, forgot. Black, black, my life is black, All sadness, only cold and dark…
Black thoughts, dark night, No hope, no joy, no sight; Black is the heart that dies As love so far away flies.
My soul with pitch is painted My life with tar is tainted; Ebony nightmares conquer My uneasy sleep, somber.
And without you, blinded, I fumble in a dark abyss, Powerless and weak-minded, As your sweet kiss I miss. Black, as a coal with no fire, I burn in a dark, flameless pyre.
I’m dressed in cloth of ink And draughts of poison drink; Dark shadows, cold despair, Choke me, rob me of air.
Swimming in waters of the Styx, An ice-cold numbness will affix; A sunless death, deep in Tartarus Your lack so grim, so barbarous…
And without you, blinded, I fumble in a dark abyss,
Powerless and weak-minded, As your sweet kiss I miss. Black, as a coal with no fire, I burn in a dark, flameless pyre.
The poem is set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
Please note that there is delay between my uploading the music and your being able to access it. YouTube is generally the fastest to release the song.
“The darkness of death is like the evening twilight; it makes all objects appear more lovely to the dying.” - Jean Paul Poets and Storytellers this week is asking us to take inspiration from what we like about the dark. Darkness is a state of mind that can manifest itself in the full sunlight of Summer or in the flowery extravagances of Spring. It can be felt amidst a happy gathering at a party or the joyous shouts of children playing. If the dark is within us, it can be difficult to escape from it. I remember an interview that Reba Mcintire gave and she said something like: “For me, singing sad songs often has a way of healing a situation. It gets the hurt out in the open into the light, out of the darkness.” Here is my dark, sad song: Spring Funeral A funeral in Spring, Much pain will bring; Spring comes, nears, Raining bitter tears… Spring wakes deep in earth the sodden seeds Making more acute my pressing needs; The rain that gently falls will wash me clean No more will I my painful memories glean. I loved you such a long time ago And yet I chose dreams to forego. The greenwood leaves unfurl and open fresh The breeze still cool, tempers my burning flesh; Desires, passions, loves I bury deep in earth Path chosen, heart dies, mind more is worth. I loved you such a long time ago But now allegro turns to largo. As flowers fresh are laid by a new dug grave Your thinly disguised betrayal I forgave; The falling night will usher in the stars Silence – except for mournful cries of nightjars. I loved you such a long time ago Now where to turn? To whom to go? The poem is set to music, and you can find an index of all my music in my “Otidorchestre” Instagram channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
Please note that there is delay between my uploading the music and your being able to access it. YouTube is generally the fastest to release the song.
“It is right to endure with resignation what the gods send, and to face one's enemies with courage.” - Pericles
The New What’s Going on Blog has sent as its theme this week “The Days we Stayed Apart”, a reflection on how the COVID pandemic affected us. For me personally this was a difficult time as death due to COVID claimed a victim within my own family. However, I had to find the strength to hold on and deal with life and all its vicissitudes. Resignation, tolerance, moderation, self-control, assisting others, coping with numerous restrictions and delving into what is the purpose of life, are all topics that I think of when I remember that dark time. Here is my poem:
This, Too, Shall Pass… This fleeting moment Of our time in the sun, This, too, shall pass – Remember; for the happy man shall be made sad, And the sad man made happy.
This mortal coil, All of our suffering, This, too, shall pass – Remember; for the pain shall be made joy, And the joyful made melancholy.
This grand love, Our all-consuming passion, This, too, shall pass – Remember; for the flame shall be made ash, And the dust made into fire.
This glorious fame, The greatness, this prestige, This, too, shall pass – Remember; for the renowned shall be made unknown, And the obscure will be celebrated.
All is fleeting, all is vain; Life, youth, love, beauty, Riches, luxury, your bed of roses; These, too, shall all pass – Remember; for the last will be first, And the first will be last…
The poem is set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
Please note that there is delay between my uploading the music and your being able to access it. YouTube is generally the fastest to release the song.
“We have enslaved the rest of the animal creation, and have treated our distant cousins in fur and feathers so badly that beyond doubt, if they were able to formulate a religion, they would depict the Devil in human form.” - William Inge
This week, the New What’s Up blog commemorates the life and death of Jane Goodall, a primatologist and anthropologist who dedicated her life to studying primates and advocating conservation and climate action. Here is my offering.
Talk to the Animals To treat each living thing As if your life depends on it Is a hard task, and few of us Try to live by such a rule And hope to succeed.
Living, respecting nature, Trying to leave this world A better place than what you found, Is a life-long commitment And one peppered with failures.
To live your life in harmony With what’s around you: Trees, animals, lakes, streams, Sea, fish, air and earth, Is a momentous undertaking.
Yet, so many amongst us Venture forth and dedicate Their life to doing good, Saving the bounty given us With utmost care and stewardship.
Talk to the animals and learn, To do what comes naturally, No waste, no undue harm, No ravaging of earth’s resources, A web of life, perpetuating life...
“Perhaps they are not stars, but openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.” – ‘The Little Prince’ by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry The New What’s Going On Blog has set a theme of “Love Letter from the Afterlife” this week. One of the hardest situations we have to deal with as humans is the loss of a loved one. Especially so a partner, with whom we have shared our life up to the point of the cruel separation. If we are believers, we know that after death there is the assurance that we will rejoin our loved ones. If belief is absent or if doubt in the existence of the afterlife is in our heart, the pain of loss becomes much more severe. Losing a partner, especially one who is young may seem unjust, unfair, irrational. My poem today looks at this loss, but the viewpoint is from the eyes of the survivor… Counting Stars The night is dark, But sky so starry. You’ve left your mark, I’m now so chary… Mars red, is bright, angry tonight Venus so silver, hides behind a cloud; The moon has set, no more alight, While stars by early morning cowed. And I, look up, the heavens scan To find a reason and an explanation; Perhaps a goal, illusions, or a master plan? Or some divine order of causation… Alone, my heart is hard and cold, Alone, my thoughts irrational, I tremble and my breath I hold, To make of chaos something rational.
As dawn comes gently, like a feather The eastern skies blush and lighten; I count the fading stars to see whether One will shine on, as the hours brighten. Even the brightest star soon is gone The mystery of night, I’ll never know, Soon comes the sun, birdsong, early dawn, And somewhere, near, a cock should crow… Alone, my heart is hard and cold, Alone, my thoughts irrational, I tremble and my breath I hold, To make of chaos something rational. The day so bright, But my heart is black. You took your light, I feel so much your lack… This poem is set to music, and you can find all references to my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel, or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
“A requiem is meant to bring comfort.” - Mack Wilberg
The New What’s Going On blog is prompting about “Rest”. I’m sorry but my rest is rather restless, or rather, a rest that comes after great turmoil. A Requiem (Latin: rest) or Requiem Mass, also known as Mass for the dead (Latin: Missa pro defunctis) or Mass of the dead (Latin: Missa defunctorum), is a Mass of the Catholic Church offered for the repose of the souls of the deceased, using a particular form of the Roman Missal. This was the inspiration of my “Rest” poem.
Requiem Requiem, Requiem Aeternam… Burying all traces of desire Deep inside my withered body I cling to words; And words my only comfort. Interring deep in dark, dank soil My heart’s small broken pieces Images of my fantasies save me From the grasping claws of madness. Requiem Aeternam!
As earth envelops slowly all my hopes, Requiem As the sun vanishes once again, Requiem As the darkness claims me for her own.
Enshrouding dead dreams
In palls woven of crescent moonbeams I clutch only a cold memory Of an embrace long ago. Inhuming my follies, Your smile, your eyes, your body, And only reason, mute written words, And only silent words to save me.
Requiem Aeternam, As dark night falls Enclosing softly all my longings, Requiem As the illusion dies once again, Requiem As the tears flow, Only to freeze On my death-cold flesh.
Requiem Aeternam,
Requiem… Eternal rest I crave! My flesh to save, As I dig my grave… Requiem, Requiem, Requiem Aeternam...
Here’s the poem set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
Please be aware that there may be a slight delay with the uploading of music on some of the above music sites. YouTube is usually the most rapid to upload.
“My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.” - Robert Frost
The prompt from “Poets and Storytellers United” this week is t write a poem in a formal, traditional form. I have chosen the villanelle. (A villanelle is a 19-line poetic form with a specific structure of five tercets (three-line stanzas) and a concluding quatrain (four-line stanza). It features a strict rhyme scheme (ABA, ABA, ABA, ABA, ABA, ABAA) and two repeating lines, called refrains, that alternate as the last lines of the tercets and appear together as the last two lines of the quatrain.) It can be quite tricky to write...
Autumn Evening As evening falls so softly, cold Memory’s scent I follow, And life grows dark and old.
Leaves die, as they turn to gold The sound of voices hollow. As evening falls so softly, cold
I try to break its stranglehold; My spirits fall and ebb, so low – And life grows dark and old.
I try to be so resolute and bold To make my song again to flow As evening falls so softly, cold…
The wood attacked, consumed by mould Decay eats into it so slow, And life grows dark and old.
My dreams to highest bidder sold Love’s ghosts in sadness wallow: As evening falls so softly, cold And life grows dark and old.
Here’s the poem set to music, and you can find all my music in my “Otidorchestre” channel or listen to it on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, Deezer, Flo, Pandora, and other music sharing sites.
“Ancient Egyptians believed that upon death they would be asked two questions and their answers would determine whether they could continue their journey in the afterlife. The first question was, 'Did you bring joy?' The second was, 'Did you find joy?” - Leo Buscaglia
Welcome to the Travel Tuesday meme! Join me every Tuesday and showcase your creativity in photography, painting and drawing, music, poetry, creative writing or a plain old natter about Travel.
There is only one simple rule: Link your own creative work about some aspect of travel and share it with the rest of us.
Please use this meme for your creative endeavours only. Do not use this meme to advertise your products or services as any links or comments by advertisers will be removed immediately.
Aswan, formerly spelled Assuan, is a city in the south of Egypt, the capital of the Aswan Governorate. Aswan is a busy market and tourist centre located just north of the Aswan Dams on the east bank of the Nile at the first cataract. The modern city has expanded and includes the formerly separate community on the island of Elephantine.
Aswan is the ancient city of Swenett, which in antiquity was the frontier town of Ancient Egypt facing the south. Swenett is supposed to have derived its name from an Egyptian goddess with the same name. This goddess later was identified as Eileithyia by the Greeks and Lucina by the Romans during their occupation of Ancient Egypt because of the similar association of their goddesses with childbirth, and of which the import is "the opener". The ancient name of the city also is said to be derived from the Egyptian symbol for trade, or market.
Because the Ancient Egyptians oriented toward the origin of the life-giving waters of the Nile in the south, Swenett was the first town in the country, and Egypt always was conceived to "open" or begin at Swenett. The city stood upon a peninsula on the right (east) bank of the Nile, immediately below (and north of) the first cataract of the flowing waters, which extend to it from Philae. Navigation to the delta was possible from this location without encountering a barrier.
“If you don’t know how to die, don’t worry; Nature will tell you what to do on the spot, fully and adequately. She will do this job perfectly for you; don’t bother your head about it.” – Montaigne
The Coronavirus Verses
“Stop!” He said, “I’ve come to tell you To prepare yourself for the journey That you shall make but once. Leave all behind, And naked as you came into this world, So shall you leave it.”
“I am not ready yet…” She answered, Come back in a little while, For I still have much to do, I need more time.”
“No, your time is up, Your last journey must start now.”
“Come then and take me now For I have grown tired of this life; The world that beckons from the great beyond Is much more attractive, More amenable to my weary soul, Which yearns for respite.
This illness a God-sent gift For those like me who crave eternal rest. Make my demise swift and easy, Snuff out my breath As if it were a candle flame.”
“I am the messenger, so blame me not, I come to grant you forgetfulness, Peace, silence, sleep everlasting. The black Angel follows in my footsteps, He’ll be the one to carry you off.”
“I welcome him, my friend, And as I gaze into your awful face, And as your frightful eyes bore into mine, I am not afraid.
The day is nigh that I shall fall into Your Master’s icy cold embrace, Praying that my demise is a gentle slumber Devoid of dreams, My rest eternal.”
“How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people! How is she become as a widow! She that was great among the nations, and princess among the provinces, how is she become tributary! She weepeth sore in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks: Among all her lovers she hath none to comfort her: All her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they are become her enemies.” – Lamentations of Jeremiah the Prophet 1:1-2
Yesterday afternoon I had to go into the City for work. I took my car in as the traffic was light and a parking spot was provided for me. In these days of COVID-19, the roads have become a pleasure to drive in and the traffic jams of a couple of months ago have disappeared. Add to that the tumbling price of petrol, which we have not seen the likes of for decades! To drive for pleasure would be good, were it not for the “Stay Home” directive, which most people (I, included) observe. Driving nowadays means going to work (if one can do that!), or alternatively go out for shopping (locally!) or other specified activities that observe the social distancing rules.
In the evening, after work, driving back home was also easy to do, even in the gloaming as the streets were all but deserted. I decided not to take the freeway home as driving in the deserted City was a strange thing, which I wanted to experience. Strange and unusual soon became disturbing and depressing. The empty streets, the few cars, the occasional tram – that too almost empty – gave me the willies. The darkness falling and the street lights eerily shining on the clear tarmac and the desolate pavements put me in a mood of despondency and melancholy. The radio started to play the lovely aria from Bizet’s “Pearl Fishers”, “Je Crois Entendre Encore”, which further heightened my dolefulness, my nostalgia of pleasanter times past.
Going past the Victoria Market, not a soul was to be seen in its brightly illuminated and empty covered corridors and arcades. The major hospitals that I drove by next had illuminated windows and I knew well what life and death struggles were being played there every second, every day. The University buildings across Royal Parade were dark and the students that normally walked in droves around the grounds and surrounding streets were absent. The pubs – their usual haunts – across the way, they too empty and dark. I turned into College Crescent and on my left the Cemetery loomed large, it too dark and gloomy. How many COVID victims had been interred there? How many more till this pandemic peters out?
As I turned into the smaller streets that I usually follow from habit, avoiding the main thoroughfare that leads to the freeway and which in the past was teeming with bumper-to-bumper traffic I became aware of a curious activity on the roads. Bicycles, scooters, motorbikes zooming up and down the streets, each driven by a masked and gloved rider, each carrying a large cubic box in the back. I looked more closely and yes, they were the food delivery workers from the take away food shops. Earning their wages perilously, risking life and limb on their flimsy, ill-balanced conveyances, endangering their health by possibly exposing themselves to the virus, taking their chances on encountering a mean or violent customer. I thanked fate that my work was safe, secure and low-risk on all counts…
The nearer I drove to home, the greater the darkness and the more marked the deserted appearance on the roads. The radio news bulletin began. It was then I heard of the fatal accident on the Eastern Freeway. Yes, the one that I avoided that evening… Apparently, the driver of a black Porsche was pulled over for speeding near the Burke Road exit at Kew during a routine check at about 5.40 pm. The driver was allegedly speeding at about 140 km/h when he was pulled over. A fluid test was conducted, allegedly returning a positive result for drugs. Two officers called for back-up from colleagues and were preparing to impound the car when a semi-trailer ploughed into the group. The crash killed four police officers while the Porsche driver (a mortgage broker, who was on bail – as I learned later) left the scene of the accident on foot. Today the driver was apprehended and is in police custody, while the semi-trailer driver is in hospital, supposedly having suffered a medical episode on the road.
I was out driving for work today, doing something that is allowed under the current COVID restrictions. It is conceivable that I could have been on that freeway, going home and I too could have been involved in an accident with a car driven by another driver who had no business being on the road. All these past weeks, I have been staying home, doing what every sensible, community-minded person does. Yet we hear every day of idiots who flout the restrictions and party, hold social gatherings, organise dinner parties, go out on joy rides, irresponsibly putting the lives of others at risk. And they can kill, through these actions of theirs: If it is not through infecting other with COVID, it is through their brainless behaviour such as this driver who set in motion a series of events that robbed the lives of four police officers, who in these difficult and trying times were out there protecting us.
COVID has changed the world. It has brought out the best and the worst in people. I daily see people doing the right thing, or even going out of their way to help others. There are emergency workers such as ambulance personnel, firefighters, police; health workers: Doctors, nurses, pharmacists, diagnosticians, laboratory technicians; supermarket employees, essential services shop staff, cleaners, rubbish removers, security staff, and so many others who risk their lives in order to prevent more infections and deaths in our community. Ordinary people who have lost their jobs or have been placed on leave, are staying home, doing the right thing. Elderly people who have isolated themselves willingly and have been missing their family and friends, not daring to go out of their house. Children at home, learning remotely by teleconference.
Then there are the irresponsible and egotistical nincompoops who defy everything and flaunt every rule and regulation. They who carry on as usual (or worse!), not fearing the virus, placing their trust in God (not remembering that God helps those who help themselves!), or embracing Lady Luck (gamblers never win, do they?), or having the egomaniac’s mentality of “it could never happen to me – I am SPECIAL!”. The lamebrained who turn to alcohol or drugs to allay boredom, or seek nirvana, or shirk responsibility, or wallow in some chemically-induced stupor that distances them from a painful reality. Yes, they too suffer in the end, they are harmed, but through their thoughtless actions, how many innocents are harmed also?
Four families today are mourning four dead: They were sons, brothers, fathers, daughter, wife, mother, partners, workmates. Four dead police officers who never went home last night, whom their families will never see again. The man who caused the situation that put them in mortal danger, the man who ultimately was so intimately involved in their needless death walked away unharmed, ran away and hid – but not before taking explicit photographs of the carnage he left behind him and which photographs he posted on social media. The same man talked idly about the accident in a chemist shop the following day. Seeking fame? Seeking social approbation? Am I looking for reason, a rational explanation for such actions in the few irrational neurones that man possesses?
We have living amongst us many sociopaths. Every day their actions and words chip away at our society, everyday they demolish our social mores, brick by brick. Their fellow sociopaths observe them and “like” their sickening, mindless posts on social media. Disgusting displays of antisocial behaviour become viral on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter. Yes, Twitter has been a means of publicising the workings of the dark, labyrinthine, irrational and warped minds of many a sociopath – even if they are rich, famous, or the holders of offices of great responsibility, power, influence and prestige…
“My life is like
a memento mori painting from European
art: There is always a grinning skull at my side to remind me of the folly of
human ambition.” - Yann Martel
Memento mori – “Remember you will die”.
An apt reminder in these days of COVID-19, with deaths due to infection with
this sinister and highly contagious virus climbing to higher and more alarming
levels day by day, worldwide. We look at the deserted streets in our cities and
we are reminded of our mortality. We look in shock as military trucks in Italy
convey scores of corpses to a place where they will be prepared for burial, and
memento mori, the Latin phrase
resounds through the centuries to remind the survivors that death lies in wait,
that they too will die. Madrid in Spain is the new epicentre of COVID-19 in the
world and a huge skating rink has been converted to a temporary morgue to hold
the hundreds of corpses. News bulletins inform us of increasing infection
transmission rates and we are obliged to think: “Am I next? What if I get sick?
What if I get very sick? What if I
can’t be cured? What if I die?”
Most people in
our society push the idea of their death into the darkest and deepest crypts of
their mind. Our culture has a become a life culture, a youth and pleasure-seeking
culture. Death has been sanitised and has become something that is seen mainly
on the TV screen, in movies, in video games, as a fitting end to deserving miscreants.
We have been given a diet of ‘cartoonified’ death (especially as it relates to
an untimely and violent death), where death is trivialised and treated with a
contemptuous disregard. The more we see the ease with which death is meted out
to others on screen, the more it has made our own death a more distant and
unlikely possibility – after all we live in the real world, don’t we?
Think of the
hypothetical situation where you are infected with the deadly Coronavirus and
the even more hypothetical eventuality where you will be told: “You have two
days to live…” What would you do? Is what you do much different to what you
would do if you had been told: “You have two weeks to live.” Or perhaps: “You
will die in two months…” Or even “You have two years of life left!” What then
determines your course of action? Many around the world have had to deal with
this scenario, confronting a horrific and rapid death as something they or a
family member will go through in a
matter of days.
The religious
amongst us may say: Vanitas vanitatum,
omnia est vanitas; which you will find in Ecclesiastes 1:1 onward: The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in
Jerusalem. Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of
vanities; all is vanity. What profit hath a man of all his labour which he
taketh under the sun? One generation passeth away, and another generation
cometh: but the earth abideth for ever.
In the past when
life on earth was seen to be a transient and preparatory phase for life
eternal, death was seen as a liberation, a door through which we passed to be
greeted by the angels of paradise and its eternal bliss. Death was then a part
of life and a promise of liberation from all of our wordly cares and toil. None
feared death then, provided one lived a devout and God-fearing life with
thoughts and deeds as stipulated by the Gospels.
We have
‘progressed’ and ‘evolved’ socially. Our lay society largely views death as an
abrupt end to life, an eternal and dreamless sleep – or even more bluntly
perhaps, an infinitude of non-being. Is it a surprise then that we nowadays
live our life seeking pleasures, riches, enjoyment, shallow and constant
gratifications of every one of our whims and selfish desires? Is it a surprise
that we shun even the thought of death and remove from everyday existence even
the mention of the word? How many euphemisms we have devised to replace the
straightforward ‘she died’? “She
passed away; she perished; she went the way of all flesh; she crossed the great
divide; she went to meet her Maker; she croaked it; she kicked the bucket…” And
so on.
Enter
Coronavirus from stage left. It brings with it a sharp sickle, shining bright,
its blade whetted and ready to be used. All are vulnerable, all may become
horribly sick, all are at risk of dying.
Yes, dying, not undergoing some strange
linguistic euphemistic transmogrification. We are suddenly jolted back into the grim reality
of death as an end to life. And even more so we are forced to contemplate the
possibility of an unfair, premature, agonising death far from those we love and
who love us. A rapid, sombre funeral (if we’re lucky!) to follow, no
‘celebration’ of our life and the telling of funny anecdotes in the upbeat
ceremony, no playing of our favourite pop song.
To add insult to
injury, COVID-19 has hit at the foundation of our comfortable, pleasurable
existence. Worldwide, economies teeter, stock prices tumble, politicians
flounder and pass bill after bill in parliament trying to rescue nations from
recession, the world from a depression. Shops close, companies fold, our jobs are at risk, our lifestyle
with its multitudinous delights has suddenly been degraded, all those
activities which readily gave us amusing diversions and pointless recreations
have suddenly ceased. The restaurants and bars have closed, the spectator
sports have stopped, the cinemas, the discos, the clubs, the multitude of
crowd-pleasers that filled our vacuous existence are all ‘temporarily suspended’.
Instead, we are
now confined at home and forced to be alone with our worrying thoughts about
life, death, the universe and everything. A reassessment of our existence to
date inevitably follows. If we are lucky, we share our home with family, a
partner, a pet, or even compatible company. The unlucky amongst us close our
door and remain truly alone, making the isolation and ‘social distancing’ even
more absolute, more trying, more gnawingly soul-destroying.
Really, when we
consider everything, is it surprising that we have panicked? Is it so
astounding that people all over the world are behaving in very strange ways? It
is such great revelation when we see the scenes of mass hysteria, when we
observe people doing whatever they believe will avert the possibility of their
infection and the highly unpleasant dénouement it often entails? After all that,
buying and stashing toilet paper seems to be a logical and greatly satisfying
activity, which makes us better able to deal with the insanity of the situation
we have to live through. I think I’m running low, I need to go and buy a few
rolls…
“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” - Norman Cousins
Johann Heinrich Schmelzer (c. 1620–1623 – between 29 February and 20 March 1680) was an Austrian composer and violinist of the middle Baroque era. Almost nothing is known about his early years, but he seems to have arrived in Vienna during the 1630s, and remained as a composer and musician at the Habsburg court for the rest of his life. He enjoyed a close relationship with Emperor Leopold I, was ennobled by him, and rose to the rank of Kapellmeister in 1679. He died during a plague epidemic only months after getting the position.
Schmelzer was one of the most important violinists of the period, and an important influence on later German and Austrian composers for violin. He made substantial contributions to the development of violin technique and promoted the use and development of sonata and suite forms in Austria and South Germany. He was the leading Austrian composer of his generation, and an influence on Heinrich Ignaz Biber.
Schmelzer was born in Scheibbs, Lower Austria. Nothing is known about his early years, and most of the surviving information about his background was recounted by the composer himself in his petition for ennoblement of 1673. He described his father as a soldier, but in another document, the 1645 marriage certificate of Schmelzer’s sister Eva Rosina, he is listed as a baker. Schmelzer does not mention his father’s name, but Eva Rosina’s marriage certificate does: Daniel Schmelzer. At any rate, it remains unclear where and from whom Schmelzer received primary music education. His activities before 1643 are similarly unknown (the composer is first mentioned in a document dated 28 June 1643, relating to his first marriage). He is referred to as a cornettist at St. Stephen’s Cathedral (Stephansdom), Vienna. The date of his arrival to Vienna is unknown, but he probably worked at the court chapel in the late 1630s, in the employ of Ferdinand II and, after 1637, Ferdinand III. Schmelzer’s colleagues at the chapel included such distinguished composers as Johann Jakob Froberger, Giovanni Valentini, and Antonio Bertali.
Schmelzer was officially appointed court violinist in 1649. Our knowledge of his position, duties, and activities is incomplete. He apparently rose to prominence as a violin virtuoso, as well as a composer, and enjoyed a close relationship with Emperor Leopold I, who was a well-known patron of the arts and a composer himself. Schmelzer started publishing his music in 1659. He was appointed vice-Kapellmeister on 13 April 1671. On 14 June 1673, after the composer petitioned for ennoblement, the Emperor raised Schmelzer to the ranks of nobility; Schmelzer now added von Ehrenruef to his name. Eventually, after his predecessor Giovanni Felice Sances had died, Schmelzer became Kapellmeister, on 1 October 1679. Unfortunately, he fell victim of the plague early in 1680, and died in Prague, where the Viennese court moved in an attempt to evade the epidemic.
Four of his children are known: Andreas Anton Schmelzer (26 November 1653 – 13 October 1701), a composer; Peter Clemens Schmelzer (28 June 1672 – 20 September 1746), a lesser composer; Franz Heinrich Schmelzer (born 27 June 1678), a Jesuit priest; and George Joseph Schmelzer (dates unknown).
Here are some of his Sonatas for Violin, played by Hélène Schmitt (violin); Jan Krigovsky (violone); Stephan Rath (theorbo); Jrg-Andreas Btticher (continuo).
“Cherish all
your happy moments; they make a fine cushion for old age.” - Booth Tarkington
Granny’s Funeral
(2012; “Adieu Berthe – L’enterrement de mémé”) Comedy/Drama, 100 minutes –
Written and directed by Bruno Podalydès; starring Denis Podalydès, Valérie
Lemercier, Isabelle Candelier. – 6.0/10
Last weekend we
watched a low key, tragicomic, French film, which although agreeable didn’t really
shine. It was time pleasantly spent and the film did broach some serious
topics, but overall, the comic pace was jolting, the bumbling anti-hero was
somewhat tiresome and the two women of his life a trifle annoying. The plot is
as follows: Armand Lebrecq (Denis Podalydès) once dreamed of becoming a
magician but he has become a pharmacist. He still loves his wife, Hélène (Isabelle
Candelier) , but wouldn’t mind leaving her to live with Alix (Valérie
Lemercier), a strong-minded woman. But should he?
One day, Armand learns that
Berthe, his granny who lives in a nursing home, has just died. A little guilty
of having neglected her lately, Armand finds himself busy with organising her
funeral as well as having to deal with his complicated personal life. He does everything
clumsily, as usual...
The basic flaw
of the film is that the plot outline sounds more promising than the actual
resulting film. The characters do not involve the viewer in their lives and
predicaments successfully and the story with “granny’s youthful secret” is not
as climactic as the writers believe it to be. Armand fails to growth and learn
from his experiences and at the end of the film he is as bumbling and ineffectual
(if not more so!) than at the beginning of the film.
Nevertheless the
film is pleasant enough for a weekend afternoon, watching with a glass of iced
tea (or perhaps something stronger, which may make the movie even more
agreeable for you). Watch it if you chance upon it and you have an hour-and-a-half
or so to kill, but don't go out of your way to search for it too assiduously…
“An awareness of
your mortality can lead you to wake up and live an authentic, meaningful life.”
- Bernie Siegel
Jan Autengruber (25 April
1887, Pacov - 15 July 1920, Prague) was a Czech Post-impressionist painter. After
the early death of his father, his family moved to České Budějovice. After
completing his primary education, he was accepted at the Academy of Arts,
Architecture and Design in Prague. After two years, he transferred to the
Academy of Fine Arts, Munich, where he was a two-time recipient of the annual
award.
He achieved very
little critical attention in his home country, so he exhibited widely throughout
Germany, in Munich, Berlin, Dresden, Mannheim, Hannover, Cologne, Hamburg, and
Frankfurt. In 1913, he was awarded a scholarship to study in Italy. During the
First World War, he attempted to avoid being drafted by studying restorative
art at the Munich Academy, but it was only a short reprieve and he was mustered
into service at Jindřichův Hradec.
He managed to
survive the war and settled in Prague, where he took courses in art history at
the Faculty of Arts, Charles University. In 1919, he married the artist Hana
Jedličková (1888-1970). The following year, he became a victim of the flu
pandemic, dying from a combination of flu and pneumonia.
His wife spent her
life promoting his works. A major retrospective was held in 2002 at the
National Gallery in Prague, followed by another in 2009 at the West Bohemian
Gallery in Plzeň.
Sheshmetet (šsm.t.t: Shesmet,
Shesemtet, or spellings with Shez-; Hellenised as Smithis) is an ancient
Egyptian goddess mentioned in the Pyramid Texts and was usually referred to as
the deceased’s mother. She was depicted as a lion or a woman with a lion’s
head, and thus was sometimes considered a form of Sekhmet or Bastet, but one of
her epithets “Lady of Punt”, differentiates her from them and may refer to a
possible African origin.
Originally she
seems to have had the shape of a woman, but since the fifth dynasty, under the
influence of her association with Bastet she became a lion-headed deity. At
times she was shown sporting four heads, apart from her own, those of Wadjet, Bastet
and Sekhmet. Her major attribute is that of a maternal and protectress goddess.
Her name is derived
from a ritual girdle or apron called a shesmet,
her name meaning ‘She of the shesmet’.
The shesmet is described by P. E.Newberry as “a leather belt from which were suspended narrow strips of hide
ending in tassels; sometimes the girdle was ornamented with beads and cowries;
sometimes the hanging pieces were decorated with Hathor-heads”.
The shesmet,
which is worn by Gods such as Horus, Seth, Thoth, Sepa, and Amun, but which is
particularly characteristic of Soped, was perhaps originally a garment for
unmarried girls. Similar garments (called rahat
or hauf) exist among several East
African peoples to the south of Egypt, which are broken by the bridegroom to
complete the wedding ceremony. Moreover, Herodotus compares the aegis worn by
the Greek Goddess Athena to such garments, worn by Libyan women.
Shesmet is also the name
in Egyptian for the green mineral malachite, which was used by Egyptians as an
eye paint. ‘Shesmet-land’ is also an Egyptian name for an area in the eastern
part of Egypt centering around Per-Soped, ‘the House of Soped’, modern Saft el
Henneh, a few miles to the east of Bubastis. Significantly, this area was known
in early Arab times as El-Hauf, a virtually direct translation of the Egyptian
‘Shesmet-land’.
Shesmetet is
paired with Sekhmet, a Goddess also depicted as a lioness, in a formula from
the Pyramid Texts which was to be reused in the Coffin Texts and finally in the
Book of the Dead, where it is affirmed that the deceased king “was conceived by
Sekhmet, and it was Shesmetet who bore the king”. In a passage where the
wrathful aspect of Hathor is described, it is said of of those s/he smites, “I
make warmth for them in this my name of Shesmetet.’
Shesmetet was a
protective deity, at times called upon to perform magic in order to combat
death causing demons. As a maternal deity Shesmetet she was referred to as “the
mother of the Pharaoh”. As the formerly royal beliefs about life and death
became widespread among the population at large, she became mother and
protector of all the deceased. In a spell to be recited on the last day of the
year the name of Shesmetet is invoked as a magical force against demons of
slaughter.
“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” - Plato
Last weekend we watched film, which could have been better had the writing and editing been a bit tighter and the film cut a little more energetically. As it was, at 137 minutes, it dragged on somewhat, and given its rather “heavy” subject matter it tended to tire viewers rather than lead them into sympathetic introspection and involvement with the plot and characters. Perhaps this was because the writer and director were the one and the same person and self-indulgence ultimately won the day. It was nevertheless a film that we shall recommend for viewing (with reservations).
Manchester by the Sea(2016) Drama – Written and directed by Kenneth Lonergan; starring Casey Affleck, Michelle Williams, Kyle Chandler, Lucas Hedges. – 6/10
Lee Chandler (Affleck) is a brooding, irritable loner who works as a handyman for a Boston apartment block. One damp winter day he gets a call summoning him to his hometown, north of the city. His middle-aged brother Joe (Chandler), who has had a heart disorder dies suddenly, and Lee has been made guardian of Patrick (Hedges), his 16-year-old nephew. As if losing his only sibling and doubts about raising a teenager weren’t enough, his return to his home town and the re-awakening of the past opens old wounds and makes him ultimately face an unspeakable tragedy that he has suppressed and marginalised for years.
The pace of the film is slow and laboured, and no doubt will depress some viewers who may choose to leave it half-watched. Flashbacks are used constantly, partly to reveal the reasons for Lee’s moroseness and loneliness, but also for dramatic effect. As a consequence, the story starts and stops, backtracks and then hardly advances, making for a weak screenplay. Flashbacks are a devil of a thing to get right… If you’re expecting fast action, car chases, thrills and spills, this is not the film for you. Yes, it is a psychological drama (even perhaps a melodrama as some clichés are used liberally – the use of music for dramatic effect I found a little heavy-handed), and thus prepare to be taken down into the dark depths.
However, it’s not all bad and towards the end as the film reaches a climax, the tragedy of the past is revealed, but somehow the protagonists remain strangely remote and cold, and Lee fails to be transformed or change positively as one would have predicted given the subject matter of the film. Affleck acts well enough for the needs of the script and Hedges is OK. The rest of the cast works well enough with what they’ve been given.
A tad pretentious perhaps, overlong and repetitive, melodramatic and slow, overflashbacked and with an anticlimactic end that leaves the viewer unsatisfied, why on earth would one watch it, I hear you ask. Well, it’s hard to answer that question, but nevertheless I don't regret seeing the movie. There were good moments in it and the plot showed promise, some scenes had great cinematography – enough for me to recommend the movie to someone to watch (with the provisos I have listed above). Would I watch this movie again? – Which is the ultimate test for a really good movie for me, – no, I wouldn’t…
“Murder is like
potato chips: You can’t stop with just one.” ― Stephen King
We watched a
thriller last weekend as we wanted something fairly non-intellectual, which
required no deep thinking nor emotional investment. We do enjoy a good thriller
as an entertaining and escapist “passive activity”, so to speak, but when we
started to watch and I saw that the director (and screenwriter) was David
Oondatje, I was a little cautious as I have no time for his more famous uncle
Michael Oondatje whose infamous “The English Patient” I dislike (I must have
started to read that book about five times and started to watch the movie three
times, and I was unable to stomach it!)…
The Lodger (2007) Thriller/Film
noir - Director by David Oondatje; starring Alfred Molina, Hope Davis, Shane
West. – 6/10
This is an
oft-told tale of a serial killer, this time in West Hollywood. The movie has
two converging plot lines: The first involves an uneasy relationship between a
psychologically unstable landlady and her enigmatic lodger, while the second is
about a troubled detective with family issues and unorthodox methods, who is engaged
in a cat-and-mouse game with the elusive killer, who is imitating the crimes of
Jack the Ripper.
Although the
movie was fairly conventional it was watchable at least! The acting was fine
and the plot and direction competent, although the movie was a little
overplotted and not tight enough. The final twist saved the film, because
otherwise it would have been disappointing, especially on account of the rather
glib and premature psychological explanation given by Rebecca Pidgeon who
played (rather woodenly) the resident psychologist. Nevertheless, an enjoyable
enough low octane thriller/film noir good for our wintry Sunday matinée.
“Childbirth is more admirable than conquest, more amazing than self-defense, and as courageous as either one.” - Gloria Steinem
In Ancient Egyptian religion, Taweret (also spelled Taurt, Tuat, Taouris, Tuart, Ta-weret, Tawaret, Twert, and Taueret, and in Greek, Θουέρις “Thouéris” and Toeris) is the protective ancient Egyptian goddess of childbirth and fertility. The name “Taweret” (Tȝ-wrt) means “she who is great” or simply “great one”, a common pacificatory address to dangerous deities. The deity is typically depicted as a bipedal female hippopotamus with feline attributes, pendulous female human breasts, and the back of a Nile crocodile. She commonly bears the epithets “Lady of Heaven”, “Mistress of the Horizon”, “She Who Removes Water”, “Mistress of Pure Water”, and “Lady of the Birth House”.
From her ideological conception, Taweret was closely grouped with (and is often indistinguishable from) several other protective hippopotamus goddesses: Ipet, Reret, and Hedjet. Some scholars even interpret these goddesses as aspects of the same deity, considering their universally shared role as protective household goddesses.
The other hippopotamus goddesses have names that bear very specific meanings, much like Taweret (whose name is formed as a pacificatory address intended to calm the ferocity of the goddess): Ipet’s name (“the Nurse”) demonstrates her connection to birth, child rearing, and general caretaking, and Reret’s name (“the Sow”) is derived from the Egyptians’ classification of hippopotami as water pigs. However, the origin of Hedjet’s name (“the White One”) is not as clear and could justly be debated. Evidence for the cult of hippopotamus goddesses exists from the time of the Old Kingdom (c. 2686 – 2181 BCE) in the corpus of ancient Egyptian funerary texts entitled the Pyramid Texts.
It was not until the Middle Kingdom (c. 2055–1650 BCE) that Taweret became featured more prominently as a figure of religious devotion. Her image adorns apotropaic magical objects, the most notable of which being a common type of “wand” or “knife” carved from hippopotamus ivory that was likely used in rituals associated with birth and the protection of infants. Similar images appear also on children’s feeding cups, once again demonstrating Taweret’s integral role as the patron goddess of child rearing.
Quite contrarily, she also took on the role of a funerary deity in this period, evidenced by the commonplace practice of placing hippopotami decorated with marsh flora in tombs and temples. Some scholars believe that this practice demonstrates that hippopotamus goddesses facilitated the process of rebirth after death, just as they aided in earthly births. These statues, then, assisted the deceased’s passing into the afterlife.
With the rise of personal piety in the New Kingdom (c. 1550–1069 BCE), household deities like Taweret gained even more importance. Taweret’s image has been found on an array of household objects, demonstrating her central role in the home. In fact, such objects were even found at Amarna from the reign of Akhenaten (c. 1352–1336 BCE), who promulgated the monotheistic cult of Aten.
Taweret’s survival in the artistic corpus found at Akenaten’s capital demonstrates her overwhelming significance in daily life. In this time period, her role as a funerary deity was strengthened, as her powers became considered not only life-giving, but regenerative as well. Various myths demonstrate her role in facilitating the afterlives of the deceased as the nurturing and purifying “Mistress of Pure Water”. However, Taweret and her fellow hippopotamus goddesses of fertility should not be confused with Ammit, another composite hippopotamus goddess who gained prominence in the New Kingdom. Ammit was responsible for devouring the unjust before passing into the afterlife. Unlike Ammit, the other hippopotamus goddesses were responsible for nourishment and aid, not destruction.
Taweret’s image served a functional purpose on a variety of objects. The most notable of these objects are amulets, which protected mothers and children from harm. Such amulets, appearing before 3000 BCE, were popular for most of ancient Egyptian history. She also consistently appeared on household furniture throughout history, including chairs, stools, and headrests.
“The life of the
dead is placed in the memory of the living.” - Marcus Tullius Cicero
Imentet (Ament, Amentent
or Imentit, meaning “She of the West”) was a goddess in Ancient Egyptian
religion representing the necropolises west of the Nile. She was the consort of
Aqen, a god who guided Ra through parts of the underworld. Although she was
never officially worshipped in her own cult, she was mentioned in various hymns
and passages of the Book of the Dead.
As goddess of
the deceased, she lived in a tree looking out at the entrance to the
Underworld. Her main duty, other than being a minor fertility goddess, was to
offer food and drink to the newly dead, which would restore their spirits
enough to travel to the “field of reeds” which was essentially paradise in
Ancient Egyptian religion, however, she was so closely linked with Hathor and
Isis in their afterlife roles that she may be less an independent deity than an
alternate form of those two goddesses. Though she might have been considered in
some contexts as the daughter of Hathor and Horus.
She was usually
depicted as a queen in robes wearing the hieroglyph for west on her head or a
sceptre and an Ankh in her hands. She often appears in tombs welcoming the
deceased into the afterlife, sometimes with wings, and sometimes as a Kite
because of her connection to Isis and Nephthys.
Her title “She
of the West” is not just a statement related to geography, but also related as
her role in mythology because, as the sun sets towards the west, it was to be
accompanied by death, which was where Imentet usually reigned. Additionally,
amenti (or amentet) was thought to be where the sun set, and where the entrance
to the Underworld was located, although later the term began to associate
itself with graveyards and tombs as well.
I have been blogging daily on this platform for several years now. It is surprising that I have persisted as the world is changing and "microblogging" is now the norm. I blog to amuse myself, make comment on current affairs, externalise some of my creativity, keep notes on things that interest me, learn something new and to surprise myself with things that I discover about this wonderful, and sometimes crazy, world we live in.
I sometimes get the impression that I am on a soapbox delivering a monologue, so your comments are welcome.
