HOME COOKING - YOUVARLAKIA!

“Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.” - Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr

Back home today after flying in with the red eye special this morning and going straight to work! All sorts of crises to handle, which magically seem to appear when I am away. After putting in about 10 hours of work, I came back home and it was very nice to find a home-cooked meal on the table and smell the delicious scents of the garden, the kitchen, the rich aromas of home.

We had a traditional Greek dish today, which is called Youvarlakia (meatballs in egg and lemon soup).

Youvarlakia

Ingredients
1 tbsp. butter
1 large onion
5 cups clear beef broth (or vegetable broth)
500 g lean ground beef
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. celery salt
1/2 cup uncooked short-grain rice
1 tbsp. chopped parsley
1 tsp chopped dill
ground pepper, to taste
4 eggs
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice

Method
Peel and finely grate the onion into a bowl. Add the beef, salt, parsley, dill, ground pepper, and the uncooked rice. Form the mixture into 3.5 cm meatballs. And roll so that they become even and smooth.

Add butter to a large pot to melt. Add the pepper and celery salt and stir through. Add the broth and bring to a boil. Drop the meatballs into the broth carefully so that they don’t break up. Reduce the heat and simmer, half covered, for about 20-25 minutes, until meatballs cook through and the rice is done (add more broth if needed). Season to taste with more salt and pepper if desired. Remove from heat. In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs with the lemon juice well, until combined. While whisking, slowly drizzle the broth from the meatballs into the egg and lemon mixture, stirring continuously so as not to curdle the eggs (this is best done by two people, one whisking one adding the hot broth, or you may use a mixer on low speed). Slowly pour the egg/lemon/broth mixture back into the meatballs, again stirring continuously as you do so. Season to taste again, if necessary.

Serve meatballs with a generous amount of soup and garnish with chopped parsley.

ON THE ROCKS

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” – Mark Twain

I had a wander through The Rocks district today. The Rocks are in Sydney’s city centre, on the western side of Circular Quay, and is the area of the first European settlement in 1788. Before the 1820's it evolved into one of Sydney Town’s most unsavoury districts, full of convicts and prostitutes, although this has changed over the centuries from slums to three-story houses.

It was in its second stage of life overtaken by warehouses and the maritime industry, but later again demolished due to the plague and then the Harbour Bridge Construction. Since the 1970’s it has developed into a tourist area, full of cobbled streets, pretty old-style buildings, numerous little shops and a lively nightlife filled with bars, pubs and restaurants.

The Rocks is also home to a variety market at the weekend, as well as live music at various venues around the area. There are a full range of stalls offering local craft and unusual gifts, as well as food stalls, Aboriginal art, and much more.

Walking tours around the area can be made by following the directions on number of guide books available at the Rocks Discovery Centre. One of the most interesting is a historical walking tour of the area. There are many stops along these tours including Sydney's first gaol, Cadman's Cottage and Sydney’s shortest street. Spectacular views of Circular Quay and Sydney Harbour Bridge are also to be enjoyed here. The oldest house in Sydney can be found in The Rocks and it is Cadman's Cottage on George Street, built in 1816. It was once home to John Cadman but now is the National Park Information Centre.

George Street is the main street through the Rocks area, which is the oldest street in the whole of Australia. There are a number of notable buildings along George Street, including Billich Gallery, the Old Police Station, the Union Bond Store, the Vault Restaurant and the nearby Museum of Contemporary Art in a stylish Art Deco building.

Just behind George Street is Kendell Lane featuring more historical buildings: The Coachhouse as well as Puppet Cottage, and at the end of Kendell Lane the lively Rocks Square. South from the Square, one can head past the Argyle Stores before arriving at Susannah Place which is a beautiful row of old terraced houses. From here there are fantastic views of the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Tomorrow back to Melbourne!

POSTCARD FROM SYDNEY

“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” - Lao Tzu

I am in Sydney for two days attending a staff development seminar, which is proving to be very interesting, although the hours are long and there is much to get through. The weather in Sydney has been very changeable but it was good to get out during the breaks and in the evening and enjoy the sun. Then night came and the lights of the city lit up like a million diamonds in a jewel box…

The City

The city smiles at me tonight
And I watch her, silent, fascinated, my eyes full
Of her beauty.

Lights shine like diamond brooches
The air pure, violet, perfumed, feminine,
Desires a kiss.

My thoughts fly like swallows in the sky,
My desires chained to your distant face; if only you were here,
Beside me!

The night, tonight is a silken ladder, like your hair,
The moon, almost full, blond, sweet lovable, gives me only
A distant smile.

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday

ST CHAD'S DAY & SAMPHIRE

“It is doubtlessly true that religion has been the world's psychiatrist throughout the centuries.” - Karl Menninger

Today it is St Ceadda’s Feast Day, the saint more usually known as St Chad. St Chad (died on this day in 672) is the British patron saint of medicinal springs. He was one of four brothers who were all priests. He was a monk at the Abbey of Lastingham and succeeded his brother, St Cedd as Abbot. He was made bishop of York by king Oswy but the Archbishop Theodore of Tarsus challenged Chad’s consecration. Chad withdrew to Lastingham and Wilfrid became bishop. Chad was then made bishop of the Mercians with his seat in Lichfield. He was very humble, always travelling on foot, until Theodore ordered him onto a horse and put him onto it with his own hands. Chad was warned of his impending death by an angel.

The saint was buried in the Church of St Mary. At once, according to the Venerable Bede, he was adored as a saint and his relics were translated to the Cathedral Church of St Peter. Cures were claimed in both churches. Bede described his first shrine as “a wooden coffin in the shape of a little house with an aperture in the side through which the devout can take out some of the dust, which they put into water and give to sick cattle or men to drink, upon which they are presently eased of their infirmity and restored to health”.

On St Chad’s Day eggs should be becoming plentiful in the northern hemisphere:
    By David and Chad
    Every hen, duck or goose should lay, good and bad.
(St David’s day was yesterday)

The rock samphire, Crithmum maritimum, is today’s birthday flower.  The generic name is derived from the Greek krithe = “barley”, as the plants seeds resemble that cereal.  The specific name is in connection with the favourite habitat of the plant, along rocky coastlines, shingle and sandy shores.  Samphire may be a corruption for the old French name of the plant, herbe de St Pierre. The herb is in culinary use, eaten raw as a salad, boiled as a vegetable or pickled.  An old herbal remarks: “It is more agreeable as a pickle than useful as a medicine”.  The samphire symbolises the welcoming shore and is under the dominion of Jupiter.

RESERVOIR DOGS

“Children will watch anything, and when a broadcaster uses crime and violence and other shoddy devices to monopolize a child's attention, it's worse than taking candy from a baby. It is taking precious time from the process of growing up.” - Newton N. Minow

Last weekend we saw Quentin Tarantino’s 1992 film “Reservoir Dogs”, which was another of these movies that we had bought ages ago and did not want to watch until we were “in the right mood”. It proved to be the wrong day to watch it as it was a very bad experience. This is a movie that we did not enjoy seeing, and there is hardly anything good that I can say about it. Tarantino has been hailed as a genius in film-making, but I must say, his “work” is not my cup of tea. It is the cinema of a degenerate society in free-fall and his films highlight the decline of civilisation as we know it. The bad thing about his films is that they seemingly glorify this decline. Maybe it is irony and sarcasm, but it is lost on me as I refuse to be part of such a decline.

The “Kill Bill” duet (about to become a terrible trio with “Kill Bill III” announced for release in 2014) was equally distasteful to me. “Pulp Fiction” was another disappointment, as was “Death-Proof”. “Inglorious Basterds” is yet another such trashy offering pandering to the tastes of the lowest common denominator. I am not a fan of Quentin Tarantino, I think you have guessed…

Let me explain myself, perhaps in the context of “Reservoir Dogs”. The film tries to be “modern” and pushes all the “cinema nouveau” buttons (you know the ones, flash-backs, flash-forwards, flash-nowheres, flash-and-trash-because-this-story-is-not-interesting-enough-to-be-presented-linearly; it uses “unconventional” characters, it uses smarmy directorial tricks; it has foul language in every line of dialogue, etc, etc). It uses some big name actors who have jumped at the opportunity to be in a “cult-classic” by a young and up-coming writer-director (yes, Tarantino wrote the bloody thing as well!). It uses violence to shock and was planned to be controversial from its inception: “Let’s shock the viewing public into submission!” The trouble is that this trash won eight awards and six nominations…

It is a trite tale, that has been told again and again in a numerous other films (with less blood and violence and with not as much foul language). Apparently, this film is a copy of Chow Yun Fat’s “City On Fire”. A group of strangers, unknown to each other and all criminals, is assembled by a master-mind who plans a jewellery heist. It goes terribly wrong and there is a bloody aftermath. All of the criminals manage to kill each other or be killed by police; many police are killed and there is much needless, on-screen bloody violence. In the end, the moral of the story is that “crime pays” (at least for one criminal).

We loathed this offensive and disgusting film and saw it as a landmark of the decline of cinema as an art form. This was a pornographic film targetted towards sadists. Senseless violence for the sake of violence masquerading as “art” reminded me yet again of the tale of the “Emperor’s New Clothes”. I do not recommend you watch this movie, unless you are a sadist and love to see senseless violence because it turns you on. This was a pitiful, mind-rotting, inane waste of time that left a terrible taste in my mouth and made me shudder. The attempts at humour throughout fall flat and are in terrible taste. If this is what our society awards prizes to, pity us! It is the decline and fall of the Roman Empire all over again!

CHILE EARTHQUAKE

“He who sees the calamity of other people finds his own calamity light” – Arabian proverb

The massive 8.8 Richter earthquake that shook Chile on Saturday killing at least 300 people, came in the wake of the destruction wrought by the killer earthquake in Haiti. It seems that earth is well and truly sick of all of us vermin pullulating on its skin and is shuddering constantly to rid itself of our unwelcome and polluting presence…

The result of course is more than a trail of twisted buildings, crushed cars, gaping crevasses, ripped up roads and collapsed lives as people try to cope with the tragedy.  It is a reminder that our earth is very small planet indeed, with the tsunami waves roaring at jet-speed across the vast Pacific Ocean with all of the shorelines around it on alert. We are all part of it all. The international community will once again support the devastated people of Chile and provide hope to the survivors. How fragile we are!

I can think of nothing more apt to comment eloquently on this new tragedy, except Giovanni Belini’s “Pietà” of 1505 (Oil on wood, 65 x 90 cm, Gallerie dell'Accademia, Venice).

QUISQUEYA

“In music the passions enjoy themselves.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

Today is the Independence Day of the Dominican Republic  (celebrated since 1844). The Dominican Republic gained its independence from Spain in 1821.  It is in the Eastern part of the Caribbean island of Hispaniola, the Eastern part of the island occupied by Haiti.   The mountainous country has an area of about 48,500 square km and a population of 7.5 million people.  The capital San Domingo is found on the Southern coastal plain where the island’s main agricultural products are grown.  Coffee, cocoa, sugar and tobacco are the main exports.  Mineral resources include bauxite, gold, silver and nickel. The Dominican Republic has become the Caribbean's largest tourist destination and its economy is the second largest in the Caribbean. The country's year-round golf courses are among the top attractions. “Quisqueya”, as Dominicans often call their country, has an average temperature of 26 °C. Music and sport are of the highest importance in Dominican culture, with merengue as the national dance and song and baseball the favorite sport.

Juan Luis Guerra (b. 1957) is a Dominican singer/songwriter who has sold 20 million records, and won numerous awards including nine Latin Grammy awards, two Grammy awards and two Latin Billboard Music Awards. He does not limit himself to one style of music, instead, he incorporates diverse rhythms like the merengue, bolero-bachata, balada, salsa, rock and gospel.

Here is a wonderful love song of his, “Señales de Humo” (Smoke Signals):

Te mando señales de humo
como un fiel apache
pero no comprendes el truco
y se pierde en el aire
Te mando la punta de un beso
que roza la tarde
y un código Morse trasmite
el "te quiero" de un ángel
se pierde en el aire...
Ay, amor...

I send you smoke signals
Like a loyal Apache,
But you don’t understand the trick
And it loses itself in the air.
I send you the tip of a kiss
On the edge of the afternoon,
And a Morse code that transmits
The “I love you” of an angel,
But it is lost in the air,
Ah, love!

DIET DESSERT

“If I had been around when Rubens was painting, I would have been revered as a fabulous model. Kate Moss? Well, she would have been the paintbrush.” - Dawn French

A friend is trying to lose weight but she is cursed with a sweet tooth… She cannot live without her sweets and desserts. I must admit I have a mouth full of sweet teeth also, and always tend to want something sweet after dinner. For all of us sweet-tooths, out here, there are some healthy option that do not pile on the calories and yet can satisfy a sweet tooth and taste much more unhealthy than they really are. Here is an example, which is high in fibre and vitamins, while low in sodium and fats.

Summer Fruit Crumble

Ingredients – for the filling
400 g cherries, pitted and halved
4 cups peeled, pitted and sliced mixed summer stone fruits (nectarines, peaches, apricots)
1 tablespoon wholemeal flour
1 tablespoon firmly packed brown sugar

Ingredients – for the bottom and topping
2/3 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup blanched, lightly toasted, almond slivers
4 tablespoons whole-meal flour
2 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
3 tablespoons walnut oil
2 tablespoons honey

Method
Preheat the oven to 175˚C. Lightly coat a 24 cm square baking dish with cooking spray. In a bowl, combine the cherries and stone fruits and sprinkle with the flour, add the sugar and toss gently to mix.
In another bowl, make the topping by combining the oats, almonds, flour, sugar, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. Mix well to blend. Stir in the oil and honey and mix well.
Take half of this mixture and spread it thinly on the bottom of the pan, packing it well. Put in the oven and bake for a few minutes until it becomes golden brown in colour (be careful that you don’t burn this!). Take the pan out of the oven and spray the base with cooking spray again.
Spread the fruit mixture evenly in the prepared baking dish. Sprinkle the remaining topping mixture evenly and lightly over the fruit. Bake until the fruit is bubbling and the topping is lightly browned, about 45 to 55 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature (OK, if you're not on a diet, serve it with cream, or ice-cream, or both!).

A LULLABY

“There will be sleeping enough in the grave.” - Benjamin Franklin

A Dutch study published recently suggests that lack of sleep is associated with shrinkage of some areas of our brain, with less gray matter in insomniacs, than in people who sleep normally. An imaging study on the brain of people with chronic sleep problems found there was a decreased area in the region of gray matter, which is used to make decisions. The worst loss was demonstrated in severe insomniacs, regardless of how long they had suffered from the disorder. It was not determined whether the insomnia preceded the gray matter loss or whether it followed it.

It has long been reported by sleep researchers that insomnia disrupts brain function and behaviour, but this study begins to answer why that malfunctioning happens. This may also shed some light on how to more effectively treat it. It could cause a shift in paradigm in the way that we deal with insomnia. That is, treating insomnia specifically, relying on recognising a problem, diagnosing it using a test, and developing a specific treatment plan.

An older Swiss study has linked insomnia with addiction to drugs. This is in support of a previous US study that found similar results in teenagers with insomnia. One in four teens showed significant symptoms of insomnia every day for a month. What is even more worrying is that the effect seems to be “transmissible” to other teens. That is, in a study of 8,000 adolescents in the US, a teen with a friend who sleeps under seven hours a night is 11% more likely to do the same and 19% more likely to try marijuana.

Furthermore, a Boston University School of Medicine study supports the fact that we need sleep for normal, organic functioning of our body. It was found that study participants that reported sleeping less than 6 hours, or more than 9 hours a day had an increased incidence of diabetes, compared to those study participants who slept the “average” 7-8 hours.

I sleep about five hours per night and have done so for several decades now. I seem to suffer no ill effects and have no addictions and no loss of brain substance (that I can tell, based on my activities!). There are many different patterns of sleep and the number of hours of sleep that people require seem to vary quite dramatically. I have friends and colleagues who need anything between 7-11 hours of sleep a night. The average adult generally requires 7-8 hours of sleep a night for optimal functioning. The number of hours of sleep each individual needs to sleep, however, is a matter of ‘circadian rhythm” or the biological clock that regulates our sleep-wakefulness cycle.

Some research suggests that intellectually active people require less sleep. For example, Leonardo da Vinci regularly slept only 2 hours per night! Isaac Newton slept 3-4 hours, Benjamin Franklin 2-4 hours, Napoleon 4 hours.

I think the general consensus is to sleep for as long as you need to and to not force yourself to stay awake nor force yourself to sleep if you don’t want to. In terms of insomnia, if you suffer from it, seek treatment, keeping in mind that there are some natural, effective non-drug treatments. Some people, of course will need medication, but your practitioner can advise you as to the best course of action.

insomnia |inˈsämnēə| noun
Habitual sleeplessness; inability to sleep.
DERIVATIVES
insomniac |-nēˌak| noun & adjective
ORIGIN early 17th century: From Latin, from insomnis ‘sleepless,’ from in- (expressing negation) + somnus ‘sleep.’

SCENT

“The past not merely is not fugitive, it remains present.” - Marcel Proust

The sense of smell is one that characterises more than any other of our senses, our animal origins. Smell is ever-present and can be associated with any situation, person, place or event in our life, stamping indelibly in our memory that peculiar smell with that time, place but more importantly emotions we were feeling then. Our olfactory memories have strong emotional associations and are linked with the experiences we lived through. The sense of smell is processed by the same part of the brain (the limbic system) that handles memories and emotions so it is not surprising that smell and sentiment feed off one another.

We find that we can immediately recognise and respond to smells from childhood such as the smell of Mum’s clean sheets, the cake baking in the oven, the smell of new books in grade one, or a musty cellar in Grandpa’s house. We remember the smell of the skin of our lover, the perfume that our high school teacher wore (and who we had a crush on!) or the smell of a street that we walked on during our first overseas holiday. Even if these smells cannot be specifically identified, their re-encounter later in life sparks off a shower of memories that trigger off a domino effect of strong emotional experiences.

This poem I wrote when I found a bottle of perfume belonging to an old flame, whose smell triggered off a cascade of sentimental reactions and feelings…

The Scent Bottle

A mislaid, forgotten bottle of your scent
I found today and opened to inhale;
A flood of memory spun a rich tale,
With costly perfumes from Tashkent
Souvenirs of whispers hidden by a veil.

Your pale demeanour, golden hair
Enveloped in a cloud of fragrance,
Enhancing so your silky elegance;
Reminded now by the scent so rare,
Again our parting making me despair.

The citrus, civet and the earthy musk
Are mixed with the delights of rose
That delicately caress the nose.
The summery afternoon, the violet dusk
What marvels for a scent bottle to enclose!

My wandering fingers on your skin
I recollect, absorbing with each touch
An aromatic kiss – in love so much!
Heady ambergris like sounds of violin,
Fading recall, as snowflake, I try to clutch.

A bottle of scent, and your memory I seek,
In billows of vetiver, nard and myrrh.
My loss, a perfume smelt, will now aver
Times past, of happiness gone to speak,
As echoes of long-lost love I stir.

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday!

STELLARIA, POLYCARP AND TERMINUS

“Faith must be enforced by reason. When faith becomes blind it dies.” - Mahatma Gandhi

Today is the Roman Day VII Kalends March, the last day of the old Roman calendar, on which was celebrated the Terminalia Festival. This was a Roman feast that celebrated the god Terminus who protected boundaries and frontiers. Neighbours met at the boundaries of their properties to drape the termini (stone boundary markers) with garlands. Sacrifices of wheat, honey and wine were offered to Terminus. The women contributed torches ignited on their hearths; the sons brought baskets of produce from the property and the daughters added to the repast with special honey cakes. The women made two fires at the altar, these made carefully with interlaced sticks. Meanwhile, the sons held their baskets over the fire and their sisters shook them three times to scatter its contents into the fire, then sacrificed the cakes to the flames. Farm workers attended as well, dressed in white, carrying the wine. They concluded with singing the praises of the god. Ovid says the rites of the Terminalia form the close of all others. Anyone moving the sacred stones of the boundaries was accursed and would be punished by Terminus.

Legend says that around the sixth century BC, a Roman ruler ordered a temple built to Jupiter, the king of gods and men. He chose Rome’s Capitoline Hill as the favoured site. The legend continues, saying that none of the gods who were worshipped in this area objected to yielding their spots to Jupiter, none that is, except Terminus. Rather than becoming angry with Terminus or resorting to force, the king accepted the god’s decision. The king knew that, according to Roman custom, removing a boundary stone was forbidden. So, Jupiter’s temple was built around Terminus’ shrine. An opening was made in the roof of the temple directly above the stone considered especially sacred to Terminus, since, traditionally, sacrifices made to Terminus had to be offered under the open sky. Jupiter’s cult absorbed Terminus, the temple of Jupiter Terminalius thus serving the syncretised god.

Boundary stones were sacred to Terminus, and specific rituals accompanied the placing, or “planting”, of every new stone. An animal, usually a lamb or a pig, was sacrificed, and its blood and ashes, together with vegetables, fruits, honey, and wine, were placed in a hole made by the owners of the two adjacent properties. A stone or stump of wood, the boundary marker, was then put in place to fill the hole.

The Orthodox church celebrates the Feast Day of St Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna today. Polycarp was born in 60 AD or thereabouts. When he was 20 years old he became a Christian. St Eirenaeus, who was his student, writes that Polycarp was wise, ethical and devoted to his belief in Christ. He was beloved of St John, the Evangelist, who instituted him as the Bishop of Smyrna. He was a zealous church leader and was a teacher, protector of the needy, guardian of the weak and leader of his church. When the Christian persecutions began under the Roman emperor Antoninus Pius (reigned 138-161 AD) he was suddenly, at age 86, to be arrested.

When he heard Roman officials were intent on arresting him, he decided to wait for them at home. His friends, terror-stricken, pleaded with him to flee, so to calm them, he finally agreed to withdraw to a small estate outside of town. But while in prayer there, he received some sort of vision and he reported to his friends that he now understood, “I must be burned alive”. Roman soldiers eventually discovered Polycarp’s whereabouts and came to his door, upon which he said: “God's will be done”, and he let the soldiers in.

He was escorted to the local proconsul, Statius Quadratus, who interrogated him in front of a crowd of curious onlookers. Polycarp seemed unfazed by the interrogation. He carried on a witty dialogue with Quadratus until Quadratus lost his temper and threatened Polycarp that he’d be thrown to wild beasts, he’d be burned at the stake, and so on. Polycarp just told Quadratus that while the proconsul’s fire lasts but a little while, the fires of judgment which were reserved for the ungodly cannot be quenched.

Soldiers then grabbed him to nail him to a stake, but Polycarp stopped them: “Leave me as I am. For he who grants me to endure the fire will enable me also to remain on the pyre unmoved, without the security you desire from nails.” He prayed aloud, the fire was lit, and his flesh was consumed. The chronicler of this martyrdom said it was “not as burning flesh but as bread baking or as gold and silver refined in a furnace.”

Polycarp in Greek means “many-seeded”, so this saint is beloved of farmers, who invoke his name:
    St Polycarp make our gardens grow
    St Polycarp ripen the wheat we sow.
                                               Greek folk rhyme

Chickweed, Stellaria media, is today’s birthday flower and is under the dominion of the moon.  It symbolises a rendezvous or a meeting. In the language of flowers it asks: “Will you meet me?”

ONCE WERE WARRIORS

“We challenge the culture of violence when we ourselves act in the certainty that violence is no longer acceptable, that it's tired and outdated no matter how many cling to it in the stubborn belief that it still works and that it's still valid.” - Gerard Vanderhaar

We watched a very gruelling and confronting film at the weekend. I must admit that we had bought the DVD a couple of years ago but we were putting off seeing it as the jacket notes were rather graphic, however, all of the comments that I had heard about the film were very positive. It is from New Zealand, and is the 1994 Lee Tamahori film, “Once Were Warriors”. It is a film about decadence and loss of pride. About dignity and self-respect, about love and hate, and how all of these things are interwoven with violence and a reduction of the humanity of those who are caught in a web of powerlessness and spiritual degeneracy.

The action takes place in urban Auckland, New Zealand’s largest city. The story concerns itself with the Hekes, a family of Maoris living in a council house and caught between the unrelenting demands of two conflicting cultures. Jake Heke, the father, is a very violent man who frequently beats his wife, Beth, when drunk. This violence stems from his upbringing, the company he keeps and from his feelings of inferiority. Beth is of ‘noble’ lineage and he is of a ‘slave’ background. Jake obviously loves both his wife and his five children, but he is unable to show it in a way they can experience it. The macho man mentality and doing what he thinks is ‘manly’ get in the way of any show of emotion or tenderness towards his family.

The eldest son, Nig, is about to join a street gang and be initiated in the violence that he abhors in his father, while the second eldest son, Boogie, is in trouble with the police and faces court, which will put him into welfare custody. Jake's eldest daughter, Grace, is a sensitive and talented writer who in the youth of her 13 years already shows much promise and wants desperately to get in touch with her family, her culture, her emotions, her blossoming mind. The two youngest children are innocent and vulnerable and they cannot but witness the never-ending cycle of domestic and social violence they are exposed to on a daily basis.

Without spoiling the movie for those of you who haven’t seen it and wish to, all I shall say is that the feeling of tragedy that is ever-present from the film’s beginning finds release in a harrowing climax that has devastating effects for the Heke family and serves as a means of liberation for some of them, while for others it is the spark that sets off an explosion of self-destructive force that damns them eternally.

The film is a challenging one to watch and is full of bloody violence, which is never gratuitous but forms an integral part of the plot. Violence motivates and actualises the social groups that the Heke family lives in. We are introduced to all forms of violence and the film seemingly wishes to state its vocabulary by immersing us in the brutality that drives Jake and his mates, Nig’s gang and the street kids. The touches of tenderness that punctuate the film become all the more poignant and heart-rending when framed by all the cruelty and barbarity that tries to stifle out the humanity in each of the characters. The people that survive this environment must fight with all their might against violence and rise above it until it can no longer touch them.

This is a film you watch only when you are well-prepared for it and you must steel yourself to keep on watching without flinching. Ultimately, the message is one of hope and redemption. The survivors are only the strong, but those strong in spirit. Find it, watch it, it’s worth it!

ART SUNDAY - MOTHER LANGUAGE DAY

“He who does not know foreign languages does not know anything about his own.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Today is International Mother Language Day. This day was proclaimed by UNESCO's General Conference in November 1999. The International Day has been observed every year since February 2000 to promote linguistic and cultural diversity and multilingualism. Languages are the most powerful agents of preserving and developing our heritage, both tangible and intangible. Every effort that promotes the preservation and dissemination of mother tongues will serve not only to encourage linguistic diversity and multilingual education but also to develop fuller awareness of linguistic and cultural traditions throughout the world and to inspire solidarity based on understanding, tolerance and dialogue.

For today’s Art Sunday, what better painting of a mother and child, which illustrates the concept of mother tongue so well. It is from our mother that we learn our first words, and it is that language we hold dearest to our heart, should we learn to speak more during our life…

The painting is by Léon Bazile Perrault, (1832-1908) a painter of genre, history, religion and portrait. He stands in peril of not being remembered as distinctively as his successes might merit. In symbolic genre, he is unmatched, and in portrait so masterly, that his place in those arts is foremost.

ROSSINI AND HIS MAGPIE

“Music produces a kind of pleasure which human nature cannot do without.” - Confucius

For Song Saturday today, I return to my childhood. I was listening to the radio this morning and they currently have a promotion where they invited listeners to remember the first piece that “hooked” them on classics. Ever since I remember, music was part of our household. Whether the radio, stereo, TV or people actually singing live, music there was. When we moved to Australia, I remember having to live in a country town for a little while. This was quite a big change for us, because we had lived in big cities up until then.

One day, the school organised an outing to the Town Hall, where a full symphony orchestra in one of its country tours was giving a concert. They played several pieces, but the very first one was the one that impressed my young mind the most. It was Rossini at his most exuberant, an overture full of drama and a wonderful showcase of the orchestra’s colours. The piece was the overture to his opera “La Gazza Ladra” (The Thieving Magpie). This is an opera of servant girl accused of stealing her mistress’s jewels, whereas in fact a magpie has purloined them. Just as the poor girl is going to hang for her crime, the real “thief” is discovered and all ends well.

The orchestra begins with a drum roll and a march, which is quickly followed by a glorious Rossini melody that is so juicy and rich, that it is as if you are biting into a ripe plum. There are beautiful solos for woodwinds, Rossini crescendos, excitement and drama. What a marvellous introduction to the classics for an impressionable 10-year-old!

Here is the New Philharmonia Orchestra, with Rossini’s “Thieving Magpie” overture:

FEEDING A CAST OF THOUSANDS

“Teamwork is the ability to work together toward a common vision. The ability to direct individual accomplishment toward organizational objectives. It is the fuel that allows common people to attain uncommon results.” - Andrew Carnegie

I wrote last Wednesday that I had visited Adelaide and that I had luncheon at the Adelaide Convention Centre, at the function I was attending. I was most impressed with the food and service and have since found out more about the executive chef behind this venue. But first, the menu of the luncheon, which was truly delicious:

Entrée
Tassal Smoked Salmon with Spanish onions and freshly juiced lemon, beetroot relish and sourdough horseradish bread

Main Course
Prime fillet steak with Anna Potatoes, shiitake mushrooms, asparagus spears and baby caper cabernet sauce

Selection of bread rolls and pure creamery butter

Freshly brewed coffee, selection of teas and fine chocolates

Beverages
Nepenthe Tryst Chardonnay Pinot Noir
Rymill ‘The Yearling’ Sauvignon Blanc
Shingleback Red Knot Cabernet Sauvignon

Coopers Pale Ale and Premium Light beers
Orange juice, mineral water and soft drinks.

The Adelaide Convention Centre is located in the Adelaide CBD at a prime location by the River Torrens and it has magnificent facilities for conventions, conferences, various events, as well as fine dining on a large scale. The executive chef of the Centre is Tze Khaw who with his staff can prepare 13,000 plates that will be served simultaneously through three courses in six dining rooms over a weekend. Truly impressive, even if one considers only the logistics of the exercise! Tze Khaw does not cook, he has ten qualified chefs and seven apprentices to take care of that, as well as tens of other staff in the kitchens and as many waiters to serve the food.

Efficiency and good organisation must underlie such operations, but helping out is the barrage of latest technology and amazing machinery that help the staff in their herculean tasks. For example huge basement freezers and refrigerators to store three tonne shipments of sirloin steak and 600 kg lots of prawns. A conveyor belt in the kitchen that assists eight staff to prepare 1,000 plates of dessert in six hours. Cold chocolate soufflés (made with 150 litres of sauce and 400 litres of cream!) are packed into custom built food trolleys that each carries 70 plates and they are wheeled to the refrigerators until they are served a few hours later. Digitally controlled banks of convection ovens can cook food in chambers that control the temperature to within 0.1˚C and can cook 250 kg batches of meat!

The good organisational skills of the establishment come to the fore when the guests are seated and they need be served. The food must be distributed quickly enough so that it doesn’t get cold and that the guests all eat at approximately the same time. In our function there were about a thousand people present and each course of our lunch was served within 15 minutes - no mean feat!

As I have already said, the food was superb. The salmon was as though it had been sliced that minute, the beetroot relish was exceedingly good (savoury and tart, not a trace of sweetness), while the sourdough horseradish bread interesting and light. Even more impressive was the main course. The steak was one of the most tender I have ever eaten, even though it was well done (just the way I like it!). The wines were very good and as I said, much was achieved over the lunch as well!

Enjoy your weekend!

YOU HAVE MAIL!

“We’ve arranged a civilization in which most crucial elements profoundly depend on science and technology. We have also arranged things so that almost no one understands science and technology. This is a prescription for disaster. We might get away with it for a while, but sooner or later this combustible mixture of ignorance and power is going to blow up in our faces.” - Carl Sagan

Technology is wonderful! It can make our life easier, keep us happier, better connected, make us better citizens, more environmentally efficient, better informed, etc, etc. Certainly it can do all of these things, but there is also a dark side to technology as technophobes will tell you. Technology can alienate us from human society, it can provide us with more efficient weapons, it can pollute our environment, it can provide us with the means to spy on people, it can invade our personal space, it can be used for fraud and crime, it can make every evil human activity 100% more effective.

As with any human invention where there is a good side and a bad side to it, the burgeoning of technology (especially the electronic kind!), can make our life heaven or hell. The nuclear age that was heralded by the splitting of the atom provided the means to make almost limitless energy for peaceful use, but it also created that most efficient of weapons, the nuclear bomb. Human nature, really isn’t it? Man the angel, man the devil, all rolled up into one. Who wins, angel or devil depends on each and everyone one of us, and how we control that struggle within us…

At work we recently had a very lively discussion about emails and the use and abuse of emails in the workplace. Out of interest, I counted the number of emails that I received today and it was 113. And today was a good day, usually I get closer to 150 daily. 90% of these emails are internal to our organisation and about 50% of them I should not be getting at all. I am copied in as a “FYI” recipient. Of those, about 25% I should be seeing and the rest I have to act on and a reply is required. Add to that the 50 or so personal emails I receive in my private/personal (non-work) email box (junk mail excluded!), I am talking about serious email overload!

Microsoft has conducted a study that has looked at this particular problem in workplaces. They have published that 36% of office workers’ time is spent on emails – opening, reading, trashing, replying. About 70 emails received per day is the average and represents a 21% increase from five years ago. The internet provider BigPond Australia has released figures that show 70 million emails pass through the Telstra network each day in Australia. The anti-virus firm Symantec reports that three billion emails are processed through its servers per day, worldwide. Many of these emails of course are junk and automated emails generated from systems – accounting, order programs, social networking sites, etc. Once again, Symantec data indicate that 90% of email messages processed in January 2009 were classed as spam (up from the 62% spam messages in January 2009, using the same criteria).

In our own workplace we are making a serious effort to reduce email traffic. We are seriously considering using alternatives. For example, walking down the corridor to talk to a colleague face-to-face. A radical suggestion! Often a string of emails that waste so much time could be avoided by having a short telephone conversation, which we are encouraging people to do. Several email exchanges involving many people (over a few days!) can be avoided by scheduling a meeting or a video conference where the matter can be resolved in less than an hour.

The bane of my life is that serious infraction of email etiquette, the indiscriminate use of the “reply to all” button! Not only does it waste a lot of people’s time, but it can also embroil colleagues in word battles, misunderstandings and involve inappropriate people in focused exchanges that should have remained more private. Many is the time that I have had to nurse colleagues’ bruised egos, preen ruffled feathers and provide first aid to battered sensitivities because of the “reply to all” email missive used inappropriately. On the other side of the coin, a recipient of a “cc” message can often ignore it (to his or her detriment). If a recipient receives such a message and the sender expects a response or an action, how easy is it to pass the electronic buck and trash the message, expecting someone else on that list to respond appropriately?

Emails: Heaven or hell? Up to us to use them or abuse them.

e-mail |ˈē ˌmāl| (also email) noun
Messages distributed by electronic means from one computer user to one or more recipients via a network: Reading e-mail has become the first task of the morning | [as adj. ] e-mail messages.
• The system of sending messages by such electronic means: A contract communicated by e-mail.
• (an e-mail) A message sent by e-mail: I got three e-mails from my mother today.
verb [ trans. ]
Send an e-mail to (someone): You can e-mail me at my normal address.
• send (a message) by e-mail: Employees can e-mail the results back.
DERIVATIVES
e-mailer noun
ORIGIN late 20th century: Abbreviation of electronic mail.

POSTCARD FROM ADELAIDE

“As we grew to love South Australia, we felt that we were in an expanding society, still feeling the bond to the motherland, but eager to develop a perfect society, in the land of our adoption.” – Catherine Helen Spence

I am in Adelaide for the day today as I had to attend a formal lunch in which the premier and several of his ministers. There were members of the City Council and representatives from industry present also. The function was at the Adelaide Convention Centre and very well attended with about a thousand guests. My boss and I sat at the table of the South Australian Department of Trade and Economic Development as guests of the HOD. It was a well organised function and it was unusual for such political/industry forums that it was extremely interesting. Mike Rann, the Premier spoke very well and unveiled his 30-year strategic plan for the future. He is a very good speaker and he spoke about several initiatives that will do much good for the State. There is a State election in about a month, so this was one of the pre-election activities, I am sure.

All of this afternoon I caught up with our staff at our Adelaide campus and signed off about 100 testamurs for the graduating students of the South Australian campus. The time quickly passed and then I had to go back to the airport for my commuters’ flight back to Melbourne.

For Poetry Wednesday today, a poem by Dame Edith Sitwell.  She was born September 7th, 1887, Scarborough, Yorkshire, England and died December 9th, 1964, London. She was a poet who first gained fame for her innovative stylistic artifices but who emerged during World War II as a poet of emotional depth and profoundly human concerns. She was equally famed for her formidable personality, Elizabethan dress, and eccentric opinions.

The Fan

LOVELY Semiramis
Closes her slanting eyes:
Dead is she long ago.
From her fan, sliding slow,
Parrot-bright fire's feathers,
Gilded as June weathers,
Plumes bright and shrill as grass
Twinkle down; as they pass
Through the green glooms in Hell
Fruits with a tuneful smell,
Grapes like an emerald rain,
Where the full moon has lain,
Greengages bright as grass,
Melons as cold as glass,
Piled on each gilded booth,
Feel their cheeks growing smooth.
Apes in plumed head-dresses
Whence the bright heat hisses,--
Nubian faces, sly
Pursing mouth, slanting eye,
Feel the Arabian
Winds floating from the fan.

Dame Edith Sitwell

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday!

CLEAN MONDAY, MARDI GRAS & PANCAKES

“On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.” - George Gordon Byron

Today is Shrove Tuesday or Mardi Gras (“Fat Tuesday”, or “Pancake Tuesday”). In most Western churches this is the last day of the pre-Lenten non-fasting period.  It was a day during which all remaining eggs, milk, butter and cheese in the house had to be consumed, hence the custom of making pancakes. The name Shrove comes from the old word “shrive” which means to confess. On Shrove Tuesday, in the Middle Ages, people used to confess their sins so that they were forgiven before the season of Lent began. Mardi Gras was also the last opportunity for feasting and for having a good time, as these pleasures were forbidden during Lent - hence the Mardi Gras parades and the carnival fancy dress parties.

Lent is meant to be a time of abstinence, when people used to repent and fast, giving up dietary items that were forbidden in the diet. So Shrove Tuesday was the last chance to indulge oneself, and to use up the foods that weren’t allowed in Lent. Pancakes are eaten on this day because they contain fat, butter and eggs, which were forbidden during Lent. It is extremely rare nowadays for people to fast during Lent, and many young people in Western countries have no idea what “to fast” or “Lent” means.

Pancake races are still held in many places in England on this day. The object of the race is to get to finish first while flipping a pancake in a frying pan a certain number of times. The skill is not so much in running the race but in flipping and catching the pancake, which must be intact (and still in the pan!) when the winner finishes. The most famous pancake race takes place at Olney. According to tradition, in 1445 a woman of Olney heard the shriving bell while she was making pancakes and ran to the church in her apron, still clutching her frying pan. The Olney pancake race is now world famous. Competitors have to be local housewives and they must wear an apron and a hat or scarf. Each contestant has a frying pan containing a hot, cooking pancake. She must toss it three times during the race that starts at the market square at 11.55 am. The first woman to complete the winding 375-metre course (the record is 63 seconds set in 1967) and arrive at the church, serve her pancake to the bell ringer, and be kissed by him, is the winner. She also receives a prayer book from the vicar.

In Greece, Lent starts on “Clean Monday” (the Monday before Shrove Tuesday when Eastern and Western Easters coincide, as happens this year). In the Greek Orthodox faith, the period of Lenten fasting begins on “Clean Monday” and continues until midnight on Easter Saturday, a period of 48 days. The Greek term for Lent is Meghále Saracosté, meaning the “great 40th day”, fast being implied, and the “great” including the extra 8 days of fasting.  The Mikré Saracosté “lesser 40th day fast” of the Greek Orthodox Church is the one preceding Christmas and lasts 40 days.

The term “Clean Monday” not only refers to the “clean” Lenten food, but also refers to the Spring cleaning which was traditionally done on this day. Everything was taken out of the house, furniture dusted, floors mopped, walls were whitewashed, houses aired, and the rubbish taken out of the village and burnt.  This represented a purification of the house, readying it for the Lenten period ahead.  In Greece, Clean Monday is a time when children go out and fly kites, a practice known as koúlouma, which usually combines this kite-flying with a picnic in the countryside.  It is customary to eat a special unleavened bread on this day, called a laghána.  The baking of this special bread may be related to the Roman Feast of Ovens, the Fornacalia at around this time. During this feast, it was customary to eat wheaten flat cakes resembling the laghána. The Fornacalia  cakes may also be linked to the tradition of baking pancakes on Shrove Tuesday.
   The Great Apokriá is gone and o’er
   Masquerading, feasting, alas no more.
   Lent is here, Clean Monday dear -
   Eat your olives and great God fear!
            Greek Folk Rhyme

The Great Apokriá is the Greek carnival, celebrated on the Sunday before Clean Monday. The city of Patras is renowned for its carnival. Several other cities also have great carnival traditions in Greece. The small town of Galaxeidi to the West of Athens holds a special “flour fight” on Clean Monday, which is anything but clean after tinted flour bombs are used to hold mock battles in its streets. The fighting gets pretty intensive if the protective gear that the revellers are wearing are anything to go by (see picture!).

Have a Good Lent!

GONE WITH WIND

“We used to root for the Indians against the cavalry, because we didn't think it was fair in the history books that when the cavalry won it was a great victory, and when the Indians won it was a massacre.” - Dick Gregory

Yesterday we got a lot done around the house and garden, so when it was time to sit down and watch a movie, we decided to watch a “golden oldie” that we hadn’t seen for years (no, make that decades!). It was the Victor Fleming 1939 grand old epic “Gone with the Wind”. This legendary film that won 8 Oscars and another 6 prizes, has dominated motion picture history for decades after it was made in the first half of the last century (doesn’t that make it sound even older!).

Epic describes the film not only in subject matter and production values, but also in duration. We watched the 238 minute version complete with Overture, Entr’acte and Exit music. The restored Blu Ray version is quite stunning in its colour cinematography and the film looks crisp and new, as though it has just left the cutting room. It is an old pot-boiler of a movie that pulls all the right punches and follows all the tried and true formulas. This explains its success, of course.

Given its melodramatic origin in Margaret Mitchell’s sprawling novel, the film follows the trials and tribulations of the love-life of spoilt rich girl/poor girl/rich girl Scarlett O’Hara quite well, while at the same time attempting to bring to life a few pages of American history. Romanticised it may be, but nevertheless, the essence of the times has been recreated quite well (with a 30s slant). The nostalgic ante-bellum grandeur and inequity is contrasted with the horror of the civil war and the last part of the film that deals with “America the Land of Opportunity” and the rebirth of the South from its ashes is a grand acknowledgement of American culture.

Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh make for a formidable pair and they both do a fine job of acting in this movie. Nevertheless, this is not a two-lead movie. Equally convincing are Leslie Howard and Olivia de Havilland as the other pair of lovers and the rest of the cast have been chosen with equal appropriateness. There is caricature and over-acting, surely, but remember this is a 1939 film! Criticisms have also been levelled at the film regarding its portrayal of race relations, however, in any social document – especially be it a newspaper article, a novel or a film – there will be points of view and personal prejudices that must be taken into account when one reviews it and interprets it.

The music of the film is perhaps another indicator of its age. Max Steiner’s melodramatic and saccharine sweet score that underpins most of the movie is punctuated by pieces of local colour (no pun intended), which nevertheless prove to be more effective. I mentioned previously the Overture, Entr’acte and Exit music, which is a great indicator of film-makers’ self-congratulatory pats on the back. If you remember, Ben Hur used a similar device, as did many other epics that Hollywood judged to be grand enough to have this type of treatment.

Considering when the film was made, its cinematic impact was immense and the influence it exerted on subsequent movies is quite considerable. And rightly so. This is Hollywood in its heyday, showcasing what can be done with talent and money. A film to watch and learn from, not only cinematically, but also socially, politically and allegorically.

EROS AND PSYCHE

“Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame.” - Henry David Thoreau

In ancient Greece there once lived a mortal princess named Psyche who had become so famous for her beauty that mere mortals were beginning to say that she was even more lovely than Aphrodite herself. Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, was jealous and angry because of this. She sent her son Eros, the god of passionate love, to shoot Psyche with one of his arrows, to make her fall in love with the most hideous monster he could find. But the Psyche’s beauty so enchanted him that he could not bring himself to carry out his mother’s command.

The oracle of Apollo at Delphi had warned Psyche’s father that she would never be the bride of an ordinary man, but rather would marry a being who flies through the night, like a terrible winged serpent, one whose power was so great that even Zeus, the king of the gods, could not withstand it. The king was told to take his daughter to a mountaintop and leave her there, so the wind could transport her to the abode of her husband.

The next morning, Psyche, her parents and two sisters made their way to the mountain. Tearfully they bade each other farewell, and then her family returned to the palace, leaving the frightened girl alone on the mountaintop. As soon as she was quite alone, Psyche felt herself lifted by a gentle breeze, which carried her far away to a beautiful palace built of marble and richly decorated with gold, silver, and precious gems. When she went inside, she found that an elaborate wedding feast had been prepared, but she saw no guests. Invisible servants began to wait on her, and in soft voices they assured her that she was mistress of the palace, and that everything in it was hers.

That night her new husband came to her, but the palace was so completely dark that she could not see him. Still, he was kind and gentle, and his words were loving and sweet. She soon fell in love with him. He promised that he would give her anything she wanted, but warned her that she must never try to see his face. If ever she should look upon his face, they would have to part, and she would then live in loneliness and misery. For many months Psyche was content to live with the husband she had come to love so dearly, but she never stopped missing her sisters. She began to plead with him to bring them to visit her. He warned her that they would cause trouble, but in the end he could not refuse his bride’s request.

The next day, when Psyche’s sisters went to the mountaintop, as they did every day, to weep over their lost sister, the wind lifted them and carried them to Psyche’s new home. When they were set down before the gorgeous palace, the sisters felt amazed at such wealth. They were even more astonished when their lost sister ran out of the palace to greet them. She explained that the palace belonged to her new husband, and now, of course, to her as well. Psyche's sisters could not help feeling jealous of Psyche’s good fortune. They began to pry and probe, and to ask questions about her husband. Although she did not want to admit that she had never seen her husband’s face, Psyche became confused and flustered under their relentless interrogation. In response to one question, she described him as having golden hair, as bright as the sun, but an hour later, she mentioned that his hair was as dark as night. These and other contradictory answers aroused her sisters’ suspicion. They pounced on her errors, crying out, “Why, you have never even seen him, have you?”

When she finally admitted the truth, her sisters reminded her of Apollo's prophecy. It didn't take long for them to persuade the confused girl that her husband must be a terrible monster who would kill her as soon as he tired of her. They concocted a plan. Handing her an oil lamp and a dagger, they told her to wait until he was asleep, and then to light the lamp and steal a look at him. If he was, as they assumed, a terrible monster, then she would have to take the dagger and kill him.

That night, Psyche took the dagger from beneath her pillow and approached her sleeping husband. She lit the lamp and gazed for the first time on her husband's face, the face of the god of love! Instead of obeying his mother’s command and making Psyche fall in love with a hideous monster, Eros had secretly taken her for his own bride. When she beheld the glory of Eros, Psyche was so startled that she allowed a drop of hot oil to land on his shoulder. Awakened by the drop of oil on his shoulder, the god said sadly, “Where there is no trust there can be no love.” Then he arose and left the palace.

Aphrodite soon learned that Eros had disobeyed her. She sought out his abandoned bride, determined to make her suffer. As soon as she found her, Aphrodite dumped a great pile of tiny seeds on the ground in front of the unhappy girl and ordered her to separate them and to finish the job by sundown!  Looking at the enormous pile of seeds, Psyche knew that the task was impossible. It would take a hundred years to sort and separate so many seeds. But a large colony of ants, beguiled by the girl’s beauty, decided to help her. Scurrying back and forth, they soon had the seeds sorted into separate piles. When Aphrodite returned and saw that the task had been completed, she became enraged and promised Psyche that her next task would be even harder.

She commanded Psyche to collect some wool from a herd of fierce man-eating sheep who lived in a thicket of thorn bushes near the river. Psyche knew it was certain death to approach the sheep, but as she drew near to the bushes where they lived, a voice told her to wait until evening, when the sheep would leave the thicket. Then she could collect the wool that had stuck to the thorns. Psyche did this, and once again Aphrodite was angry that Psyche had successfully completed a task that was meant to be impossible.

Aphrodite continued to set impossible tasks for Psyche, but somehow the girl kept managing to complete them. What neither Psyche nor Aphrodite realized was that Eros was still watching over Psyche, sending her help when she needed it.  Zeus was well aware of these events. Finally he decided that enough was enough. He decreed that Eros had proved his love for Psyche, and Psyche had proved her devotion, patience, and obedience. He said that since Eros had chosen as his bride a mortal, who could not reside with him on Mt. Olympus, there was only one course of action. Zeus would have to grant her immortality. Once Psyche had drunk the ambrosial nectar of the gods from the cup of immortality she ceased to be mortal. Aphrodite no longer felt jealous of her, for she had only resented the girl because she felt that mortals had no right to rival the gods. At last she bestowed her blessing on the union between her son and the beautiful princess who had become one of the immortals.

The painting above is by Orazio Lomi Gentilleschi (1563 - 1639) and illustrates the legend of Eros and Psyche at the point where the disappointed Eros is awakened and confronts the guilty Psyche.

Happy Valentine’s Day!