8.15.2023 – matters not only

matters not only
what you see, but how and with
what eyes you see it

Non tantum quid videas, sed quemadmodum, refert; animus noster ad vera perspicienda caligat.

So wrote Lucius Annaeus Seneca the Younger, usually known mononymously as Seneca, who was, according to wikipedia, a Stoic philosopher of Ancient Rome, a statesman, dramatist, and in one work, satirist, from the post-Augustan age of Latin literature.

Neither here nor there but one day I am going to establish a mononymous hall of fame for all those folks known for just their first name. I digress but I have to point out that having a really good first name gets you off to good start. I mean Elvis means Elvis and he left the building a long time ago but does Michael mean Michael Jackson or Michael Jordan.

Anyway, back to Non tantum quid videas, sed quemadmodum, refert; animus noster ad vera perspicienda caligat.

This is a line from the Ad Lucilium epistulae morales also known as the Moral Epistles and Letters from a Stoic, a collection of 124 letters that Mr. Seneca wrote at the end of his life.

Seneca was one of those fellers who was motivated to write down things that could be repeated as maxims or rules for one self to make one self a better person.

I think it is too much to say that he was writing the Hallmark Cards of his era and I don’t want to say that but once I thought it, I had to say it.

Maybe its because so many thoughtful quotes from Seneca end up on T shirts and coffee mugs though no one has a clue to why it was said or who said it in the first place.

I mean if someone touched a hot stove and then said, once burned twice shy, you would understand how that someone came to understand that once touching a hot stove and getting burned, you would think twice about touching a hot stove.

Unless, like the feller in the story told by Minnie Pearl who dropped a red hot horseshoe.

Ms. Pearl quoted the blacksmith as saying to the feller, ‘Burned you! Didn’t it!

“No,” says the feller, “It don’t take me long to look at a horseshoe.”

But Non tantum quid videas, sed quemadmodum, refert; animus noster ad vera perspicienda caligat?

According to the  1930 Harvard University Press translation of the Epistulae Morales, it means:

It matters not only what you see,

but with what eyes you see it;

our souls are too dull of vision to perceive the truth.”

Which is good.

However I put that Latin into the google translator and I got, It matters not so much what you see, but how; our mind is clouded to see the truth.

I like that.

It matters not so much what you see, but how.

Our mind is clouded to see the truth.

On the one hand, this can touch on what I wrote about yesterday that most folks have already made up their mind and what they see is what they want to see.

Maybe that is the why are souls are too dull of vision and our mind is clouded to truth.

On the other hand, maybe this was the point that the teacher character in the movie Dead Poets Society was after (played by Robin Williams) when he had his class stand on their desks just to see something from a different angle.

I thought that was a weird sad movie (less than half the class climbs up on their desks in the final scene) but it had an impact on me.

You want to raise other people’s awareness, try running through an office by jumping from desk to desk.

The times I did that, boy oh boy, did people have a new way how they looked at life, even if just for a minute.

It matters not so much what you see, but how.

One person sees the glass half full.

The other person sees the glass half empty.

I see a glass and I say, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh man, when does it tip over?

The picture above?

It’s a small sculpture just up the street from the original sculpture that is big, bright red and three stories high in downtown Grand Rapids, Michigan, where I grew up.

The big sculpture is known as ‘The Calder.’

The little version has a special name.

It is known as ‘The Calder … for the Blind.

It matters not so much what you see, but how.

8.14.2023 – don’t spread false reports

don’t spread false reports
don’t help a wicked man by
malicious witness

Based on the Bible verse, Exodus 23:1 – “Do not spread false reports. Do not help a guilty person by being a malicious witness.”

I intend to do nothing here but hold up a mirror and you can see what you brought.

There are those who will say that this verse applies to a figure in the news today who is being assailed … ASSAILED … on all sides by lies, by fraud, by cheating, by evil government and governors who are dedicated to the downfall of this figure. The extent to which the system has lined up so many false charges, bad Judges and officials and other malicious false witnesses against this figure only goes to PROVE the rightness of the person and his cause.

There are those who will say that this verse applies to this same figure in the news, along with the people who support him. who ignore any and all evidence that, in any way shows that, this person is guilty, to the point that, those people who feel this way, feel that those who do not feel this way, have lost their minds.

I am not making any comment as to either of these points of view.

As I said, I am just holding up a mirror and you will see what you want to see.

So why this haiku then?

I’ll tell you why.

According to the Online Encyclopaedia Britannica, the book of Exodus was perhaps written as early as 950 BCE. 

Or about 3000 years ago.

My point is that, 3000 years, folks had to be told, Do not spread false reports. Do not help a guilty person by being a malicious witness.

Plus ça change plus c est la même!

I have to add one last.

In quoting the the verse I used the latest online version which states:

Do not help a guilty person by being a malicious witness.

For my haiku, I am using my old OXFORD SCHOLFIELD NIV from 1984 which says:

Do not help a wicked man by being a malicious witness.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Interesting.

N’est-ce pas?

8.11.2023 – collecting titles

collecting titles
enduring satisfaction
the wonderful books

Until moving them became a problem bigger than having them, I had a large personal library.

Never able to get books that were, by themselves, worth something other than their content (I mean autographed or rare books) the books in my library were there to be read.

Still, to read about ‘Unparalleled treasure trove’ of 16th-century texts worth $25m up for auction, I know what the feller, T Kimball Brooker, means when he is quoted saying, “collecting the titles had ‘been an enduring source of satisfaction and enjoyment‘ and that he had ‘mixed feelings‘ about parting with the ‘wonderful books.‘”

There were always be book people.

People who would rather have a book in hand over a book on a device.

At this time and place, I go both ways.

And time and place do not support a larger personal library at this time and I am okay with that.

I have access to more books than I could ever read.

But being in a room filled with books is as much a splendor as almost any view.

I have known many book collectors.

I have known many book collectors who got older and wondered more and more, what would happen to their books.

One friend told me they had donated a lifetime collection of Early American fiction to Grand Valley State Library thinking it would go into their collection, only to be told that friends found books with his bookplate in them at the Friends of the Library sales and it about broke his heart.

I had another friend who had collected a great library on the American West in general and General Custer in particular and the thought of it being broken up when he passed bothered him a great deal.

In his case, I was able to put him touch with the Special Collections at the University of Michigan which is well known for 1) accepting such collections and 2) guaranteeing that the collection will be kept together.

But what I think of most is a story told to me in passing by a Professor I had in college.

By chance we walked out of a building together and out on to the diag in the center of campus in Ann Arbor when some sort of crowd demonstration was going on.

We stopped to watch.

He looked around and pointed how the police had left one path out of the central campus open.

He said he remember that tactic from his days at Harvard in the ’60s.

Give the crowd a way out.

He then remarked, that like today, he had watched an anti war demonstration back when he was student, in the Harvard Square, standing next to his Professor.

I asked what did his Professor say?

My Professor laughed and told how the crowd was screaming and the cops were advancing and tear gas started flying and his Professor, a much older man, turned to him, shrugged and said, “Well, this time my library is insured.”

My Professor said he looked at his Professor and asked what he meant, “This time my library is insured.”

The Professor looked at him and shrugged again and said that when the Russians kicked the Jews out of Russia, he lost his library.

Then when the German’s kicked the Jews of Germany, he lost his library.

But this time, and pointed at the ‘demonstration’ and smiled, the library is insured!

Never took my library, big or small, paper or electronic, for granted after that.

Those books.

Those wonderful books.

They have been an enduring source of satisfaction and enjoyment.

Those wonderful books have.

8.9.2023 – one of the top three

one of the top three
in Baltic mythology
not most important

In the story, Mystery totem pole appears on coastal path in south-east England, by David Batty (Guardian, Aug. 9, 2023), I was intrigued by the lines:

The 8ft (2.4-metre) wooden pole, erected on the clifftops on the North Downs Way in Kent, between Folkestone and Dover, has particularly provoked interest for its inscription with the name Perkūnas, the Baltic god of thunder.

“Perkūnas is perhaps the best known Baltic god,” he said. “That is his Lithuanian name. He’s the same as the Slavic god Perun. He’s one of the top three or four gods in Baltic mythology but not the most important.

I am not sure what to make of the fact that not only was I NOT familiar with Perkūnas, perhaps the best known Baltic god, I wasn’t even aware there were Baltic gods.

I knew my Norse or Viking Mythology but I admit mostly from being aware of the names days of the week.

That is to say, what I thought I knew about the names of the days of week, until for this essay, I opened up Wikipedia.

I have long admired how, with the much better public relations enjoyed by Greek and Roman mythology, that the poor cousins up north were able to grab off several day of the week names and interject their lineage into daily interactions through out the world.

For some reason, I enjoyed the thought the Thursday, with its roots in the Norse (not Marvel Comics) lore in Thor, was adopted globally.

I mean if you fly to Japan or Kenya or Lithuania on Thursday and you want someone to pick you up at the airport, you want everyone to understand what Thursday means.

And in my mind, when everyone in the world used the word Thursday, the meant that day named for Thor.

According to Wikipedia, this may not be totally accurate.

Around the world, if there are 1,000’s of cultures, there are 1,000’s of ways of saying the 5th day of the week.

Why am I so late to this party?

I thought the days of the week were globally universal.

I also thought the Rosenberg’s weren’t guilty but that’s another story.

If I call up a mythical friend in India and make a mythical date for lunch on Thursday, does my friend translate that as being on गुरुवार or Guruvār?

Or, if I understand the article in Wikipedia, there seems to be a trend that cultures recognized that the 5th day of the week would be named after the head deity in the local mythology.

Thursday then can be named for Jupiter, Zeus, Bṛhaspati, Brahaspathinda or Boraspati?

Still, if you go to the airport, what do the arrival and departure screens say?

BUT I DIGRESS.

I do enjoy stories about folks who, for no reason beyond doing something funny, put up totem poles.

Something to ‘raise the dialog.’

Something to make people think.

Something to get folks out of their groove.

I am reminded of an art class I took years ago at what is now Grand Rapids Community College in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

The Professor had a SLIDE SHOW (I’ll explain these magic lantern shows later – but let me say there was a time when COLOR SLIDE SHOW was a point of difference) of the outdoor works of art in Grand Rapids and he put up a picture of the Calder Stabile and asked, ‘What does it mean?’

I was thrilled to raise my hand and answer that Calder named his stabile, La Grande Vitesse, or, The Great Swiftness and it was inspired by the once Grand Rapids in the Grand River and the stabile showing water pouring over rocks.

The class fell in line with me and several other students made statements that echoed my answer, agreed with me or even said, OH THAT’S IT.

I felt smug.

Very smug.

The Professor listened, nodding, and waited for the discussion to die down.

Then he looked at the image on the screen and said, “well ….”

And he looked back at the class, smiled and said, “I think it means whatever you want it to mean.”

And he went to the next slide.

One last on the days of the week.

I am reminded of the an old comic bit where two guys are arguing about what day of the week it is.

The first feller says it was WEDNESDAY!!! The DAY NAMED AFTER the NORSE GOD WODEN!

The second feller says, nahhhhhh … they named Wednesday … after they named Tuesday.

8.5.2023 – strikingly glowing

strikingly glowing
marked brilliance of expression
oh incandescence

Rereading Edmund Morris’s book on Thomas Edison at the same time the end of the incandescent lightbulb put in mind to write about two things.

One is the incandescent lightbulb itself.

I am fascinated in this age when old invention exist.

I think of the qwerty keyboard.

Who could guess that such and invention would be driving computers worldwide to this day.

The feller who invented it may not recognize the computer but he would be able to type on the keyboard.

And the electric lightbuld.

The glass bulb and the filament.

The only visual change from that bulb and the one Thomas Edison first showed off in 1879 except that soon after being introduced one of Edison’s engineer came up with the threaded base so it could be screwed into a socket and if held upside down, would not slide out of the socket.

I will miss these light bulbs

Even if I don’t notice when they are being replaced.

The other thing I want to comment on is that most marvelous of words, incandescence.

The word is not onomatopoeic but is it autological or a word that describes itself?

Can it be autological when it has so many meanings?

Incandescence.

Look at the online Merriam-Webster.

incandescent
adjective
in·​can·​des·​cent ˌin-kən-ˈde-sᵊnt
1
a : white, glowing, or luminous with intense heat
b : strikingly bright, radiant, or clear
c: marked by brilliance especially of expression incandescent wit
d: characterized by glowing zeal : ARDENT incandescent affection
2
a: of, relating to, or being light produced by incandescence
b: producing light by incandescence

Then, wikipedia explains Incandescence as the emission of electromagnetic radiation (including visible light) from a hot body as a result of its high temperature. The term derives from the Latin verb incandescere, to glow white.

If you needed a word that described glowing, or luminous with intense heat, strikingly bright, radiant, or clear – marked by brilliance especially of expression – characterized by glowing zeal as well as emission of electromagnetic radiation (including visible light) from a hot body as a result of its high temperature, what word could you come up with other than incandescent.

I am also reminded of a dress was made for Alice Claypoole Vanderbilt. of yellow satin, decorated with glass pearls and beads in a lightning-bolt pattern. A built-in battery lit a light bulb she carried, which she could raise over her head like the Statue of Liberty, made for a masquerade ball that was held in New York City on March 26, 1883. The ball was hosted by Alice Vanderbilt’s sister-in-law, Alva Vanderbilt, as a housewarming party for Alva and William K. Vanderbilt’s new mansion at 660 Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.

The house was one of the first with Mr. Edison’s electric lights.

As Bill Bryson writes in his book, The Home, this was possibly the only occasion in her life in which she could be described as radiant.