OT ~ Welcome to Saturday!
Sit-a-while
on swinging porch
where tin-dippers and
sweet water
in cool touches
meet lips
from hand dug wells.
Good morning good people,
Very simple love that believes in words,
since I cannot do what I want to do,
can neither hug nor kiss you,
my pleasure lies in my words
and when I can I speak to you of love.
So, sitting with a drink in front of me,
the place filled with people,
if your forehead quickly creases
in the heat of the moment I speak too loudly
and you never say don’t be so loud,
let them think whatever they want
I draw closer melting with languor
and your eyes are so sweetly veiled
I don’t reach for you, no, not even the softest touch
but in your body I feel I am swimming,
and the couch in the bar’s lounge
when we get up looks like an unmade bed.
~ Patrizia Cavalli, translated from Italian by J. D. McClatchy
"Scientists are setting out to explore a marine realm that was hidden from the Sun for more than 100,000 years.
"In July 2017, a giant iceberg broke off from the Larsen C ice shelf east of the Antarctic Peninsula, revealing a large swathe of ocean that had lain in darkness beneath the ice.
"The newly exposed seabed might hold clues to the evolution and mobility of marine life and
"a team led by Boris Dorschel, chief scientist of a 45-strong international team on board the German research icebreaker Polarstern, is planning to set off from Chile this week to explore for the first time the sea that the ice had concealed. The ship is currently docked in Puntas Arena in Chile, where it is being loaded for the nine-week expedition. https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-019-00588-x?utm_source=Nature+Bri...
The Epic of Gilgamesh: newest discovery is a tiny fragment that had lain overlooked in the museum archive of Cornell University in New York, identified by Alexandra Kleinerman and Alhena Gadotti and published by Andrew George in 2018.
in fact, there is a deeper significance to this discovery. The difference between the episodes can now be understood, not as editorial changes, but as psychological changes that Enkidu undergoes as he becomes human. The episodes represent two stages of the same narrative arc, giving us a surprising insight into what it meant to become human in the ancient world.
[...]
What does this tell us? We learn two main things. First, that humanity for the Babylonians was defined through society. To be human was a distinctly social affair. And not just any kind of society: it was the social life of cities that made you a ‘true man’. Babylonian culture was, at heart, an urban culture. Cities such as Uruk, Babylon or Ur were the building blocks of civilisation, and the world outside the city walls was seen as a dangerous and uncultured wasteland.Second, we learn that humanity is a sliding scale. After a week of sex, Enkidu has not become fully human. There is an intermediary stage, where he speaks like a human but thinks like an animal. Even after the second week, he still has to learn how to eat bread, drink beer and put on clothes. In short, becoming human is a step-by-step process, not an either/or binary.
In her second invitation to Uruk, Shamhat says: ‘I look at you, Enkidu, you are like a god, why with the animals do you range through the wild?’ Gods are here depicted as the opposite of animals, they are omnipotent and immortal, whereas animals are oblivious and destined to die. To be human is to be placed somewhere in the middle: not omnipotent, but capable of skilled labour; not immortal, but aware of one’s mortality.In short, the new fragment reveals a vision of humanity as a process of maturation that unfolds between the animal and the divine. One is not simply born human: to be human, for the ancient Babylonians, involved finding a place for oneself within a wider field defined by society, gods and the animal world. https://aeon.co/ideas/between-gods-and-animals-becoming-human-in-the-gil...
“My battery is low and it’s getting dark.”
Science journalist Jacob Margolis paraphrases the last words of the Opportunity Mars rover to NASA Jet Propulsion Lab scientists.
Today's art: "Metis artist Jamie Black of Winnipeg, Canada, uses red dresses in her work to represent missing or murdered indigenous women. For the first time, her artwork will travel to the U.S. outside the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington.
“The REDress Project” will be displayed Friday until March 31 in honor of Women’s History Month. The dresses, which will be displayed along the museum’s river walk, have been donated and installed previously at several Canadian sites since 2011." https://www.latimes.com/travel/la-tr-redress-project-museum-of-american-...
Wherever you are, hoping you've a wonderful day.
Comments
As always . . .wonderful poetry
I just happen to be awake in the middle of the night. When day arrives I might not have the opportunity to comment.
One thought. It is supposed to be in the 20s here next week. That is unseasonably cold. Actually we have not seen temps that cold all year. It is the climate catastrophe of course. I have cold weather tomatoes and veggies ready to plant out, but will have to wait until this extreme cold is over. In my area, extreme cold and extreme hot is our biggest obstacle to growing food. I have plants in the greenhouse and sprouted seeds that need to be planted now. However . . . . I will have to wait until next week is over. Cheers!
Marilyn
"Make dirt, not war." eyo
I am in the same boat
and will be covering and trying to protect plants today. Our forecast is for a less severe freeze but just a dip into the freezing range. Still, it will be enough to zap some of the plants. I lost a lime tree to the early freeze this past fall, even though I had covered it and thought it was alright. Oh well.
Hope all your baby plants make it.
Best to you up there in your neck of the woods, stay warm. (It's soup weather)
Oh . . . sorry about your lime tree!!
Haven't tried to do citris, but my mother-in-law had lemon and lime trees in pots that she brought into the garage every winter.
Our hens hatched baby chicks this week so we have to watch them too.
I always enjoy hearing your gardening stories.
Marilyn
"Make dirt, not war." eyo
Thank you
for your support and comment :). It's so easy to make mistakes with this planting-of-things project. I think I make more mistakes than not. This is why the hard-won knowledge of the elders who did things like this is useful. That knowledge though is also hard to find. Plus things are changing and conditions are in flux due to climate change, soil depletion, chemical toxins, etc. Then there is just plain old erratic weather.
Good luck with your little chicks. Yes, they will have to be kept warm during this cold snap. You are doing way more than I am, chickens are beyond me right now but someday I would like to raise just a few.
Good morning, Marylin; glad you enjoyed the poetry,
too bad mother nature brings cold as you ready to plant.
Insomnia, know it well, at times, rhythms don't sync-- sorry don't have a cure; i just get up when sleep fails to come, i read that somewhere "to not lie in bed when not sleeping."
May the goddess of gardening protect your plants until warm soil can nourish them.
Always great to see you, have a splendid day.
Beautiful . . .
Marilyn
"Make dirt, not war." eyo
Good morning
smiley7, I hope you are well. Thank you for the Saturday OT, it's much appreciated as always.
I'm gathering my thoughts about that red dress painting by Jamie Black from Winnipeg. The desolation is palpable. I generally love winter scenes, and I know that landscape very well, this one though, is a nightmare. I didn't know anything about this work, but of course one does not need any background to know absolutely that it is a horror story. It's extremely powerful, cold, stark, and yet another indictment on our society.
This past week I read a bit about human trafficking in Texas. Then I read that in Texas we are holding 10 babies in detention in Diley, TX as part of our immigration debacle. I feel like I'm wandering through a Hieronymus Bosch painting, or a Jamie Black painting. But I only feel that way, a vast number of people are living that life.
I also just read parts of Chris Hedges' new book, which is horror story after horror story about our shattered society. I don't really know what to say, so I'll leave it at that.
I'm wondering if it is too late to reclaim some of the things that are best about humanity or if we are just deluded if we think we can do that.
I don't mean to spike your OT with poison, that is not what I'm doing. For me, what we talk about here is essential.
Good morning, randtntx,
hauntingly poignant and timely art, it is. Would love to travel to DC for this exhibit, alas not in the cards. When first viewing, it moved me as you said. A sad indictment in universality, oh, the poor babies incarcerated, makes one feel helpless against the storm troopers of god.
Tried to select music to echo the Redress feelings; when juxtaposed against the beautiful gardens of Babylon; makes one wonder about the meaning of progress once again.
Take care in the cold; Spring for you should arrive soon; unless El Nino has different plans, i guess.
Hoping you've a marvelous day.
I wonder
if this art will be exhibited in other places around the country. I hope so. Thank you for bringing it to our attention.
As for progress (for lack of a better term), it seems to me that there are always forces just waiting to obliterate it.
Your'e right, spring is just around the corner here, actually it has already made a partial appearance and will just be temporarily interrupted.
Ah, music to my ears, thank you.
Not to disturb your peace of mind, but here are two of those
horror stories:
Helen Betty Osborne
Pamela Jean George
https://injusticebusters.org/2003/George_Pamela.htm
http://www.nawl.ca/en/jurisfemme/entry/update-on-the-pamela-jean-george-...
Here, BTW, is how the police "solved" the murder of Pamela Jean George. (It's an excerpt from a Harper's Magazine article called Hockey Nights, about the Flin Flon Bombers Junior A hockey team.)
The earth is a multibillion-year-old sphere.
The Nazis killed millions of Jews.
On 9/11/01 a Boeing 757 (AA77) flew into the Pentagon.
AGCC is happening.
If you cannot accept these facts, I cannot fake an interest in any of your opinions.
What, no rugged individual?
Sounds very Northeast Limousine Liberal-ish to me. Secular, too.
Dirty Hippie Babylonians!
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deXOLO7Pc_c]
Thoughts are still slow to form this a.m., but iirc,
throughout history there have always been rugged individualists, who were, again, iirc, outlaws and outcasts. Even the former, however, often found it useful to band together, if only in ad hoc communities of brigands. It says a lot that this nation has elevated that type and archetype to the status of hero and role model. Of course, were founded largely by outcasts, criminals and paupers transported for life, those of the fringes of their own societies who chose to "conquer the wilderness" in search of somewhere where they could pretend to be mainstream and not "the other", the special type of brigands who indulged in "colonizing" far off places not their own, and the like. And all, except those forcibly transported for life, somewhere in their being knew that the end goal was to conquer a land and expropriate its resources while killing any and all who might in any way stand in their way. Pirates all who found a community in their mutual task of genocide and conquest who banded together as loose collections of rugged individuals, in part for protection against the ture, honest brigands among them.
OK, need more coffee.
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
Good morning, jobu; perhaps neandertals left good influences
in genes of Babylonians :).
When i view a scene of the Gardens of Babylon, i am taken back to a marvelous hotel on Lake Como that has a terraced garden sloping down to the lake that is purportedly more than two thousand years old; the unique fragrances i enjoyed there still touch my senses.
"Let go your heart, let go your head, feel it now ... Babylon" Thanks for sharing this good tune.
Always a pleasure to see you; have a good one.
Good morning Smiley7 and all Caucusers!
Thank you for another beautiful thread, smiley7. Your threads are such a lovely way to begin a Saturday.
I remember your request for more about the place we called "the bungalow." However, I don't think I went there after age 7 and we did not go there often. A gent my older sister had a crush on went there and therefore she made the family go there. (I will tell more about that another time.) I am going to ask her more about the bungalow and post her input in a week or two, after I de-brief her. Meanwhile, this is what I can recall on my own.
I remember the mystifying water pump near a building with running water in both the kitchen and the large ladies'/girls' room and the men's/boys' rooms. The building housing the kitchen and the multi-stalled johns also contained a large living room and maybe a bedroom or two, in case someone felt tired or under the weather. It was one story and it was painted a medium gray, bordering on dark, with white trim.
Behind the building was a large grassy plot. At the end of the plot was river. There was a small wooden dock, painted a lighter gray than the bungalow. Docked there were a basic, wooden rowboat, also painted gray and a basic canoe. In my memory, the canoe is unpainted, looking handmade, as though it may once have belong to members of First Nations.
On the other side of the river were many trees, aka the "woods." AFAK, no one ventured into the woods. On the grassy plot, were also some trees, some picnic tables, all painted medium gray and some Adirondack chairs, all painted white. About midway between the bungalow and the river, near the water pump, was a barbecue. I don't remember specifics, only that it was not portable and seemed large to a tyke.
At least one or two men--never a female--were always grilling, filling the air with appetizing smells. The women were either outdoors or in the kitchen, making salads and other things to eat. Once food of any kind was prepared, it was set out either on a big table in the kitchen, especially if--horror of horrors--rain menaced--or on some of the picnic tables under the trees, where the sun was least likely to spoil the foot. There was always yogurt, both plain and combined with cucumber, garlic and mint. It went very well with grill meat.
Anyone could eat anything. Or maybe it was just us kids that could eat anything. I never noticed. I just knew I could look around and fill my disposable, but sturdy, plate with anything that caught my eye and no one ever scolded me about it. And that was not just about the food. I can't remember any or us kids ever having been scolded there.
Not many adults joined us kids in the water. If a man or a woman ventured in, they tended to just dunk to cool off and get right out again to see to the food or to re-join some adult conversation. The food was their thing, the recreation was mostly ours.
My then future stepdad was a notable exception. He was single, maybe the only adult there who was not married or widowed, as his mom was. I think he was there because he drove her to be with her friends. So, once they'd eaten and she was deep in conversation with people of her generation, he was at loose ends. This was good news for us kids. He seemed to love kids in general and had limitless patience with us. I remember him in those days as always grinning, even smiling while he spoke.
As I mentioned last week, he taught me to swim. Only took him a few minutes. While we both stood in a shallower part of the the river, he demonstrated briefly how he wanted me to move my arms and head. Then, he tilted me until I was horizontal, put one hand under my mid-section, and told me to start moving my arms and head and kick my feet at the same time. After a very short time, even as experienced by a kid anxious to swim independently, he gradually lowed his hand into the water beneath me and let me know I was swimming on my own! As I am anything but a natural athlete, he must have been the Yoda of swimming.
In addition to joining us kids in the water, he would take a few of us at a time for rides in the rowboat. He'd announce to all he was doing that and we kids would line up on the dock to the grass and wait patiently. I don't remember his letting any of us row. I don't think I ever got a canoe ride. His own favorite mode of transportation, then and always, was an old black motorcycle.
When he brought the motorcycle, he would announce he'd be giving rides and we kids would line up near where the motorcycle sat. (In my memory, we were all just that well-behaved. Can that possibly be true?) I never got a motorcycle ride. Maybe he thought me too young to be able to sit behind him and hold on tightly enough.
Guess I remember a lot more than I realized. Back with more after speaking with my sister. In general, though, my memory has always tended to be better than hers.
Sweet memories make the day, Henry.
Big thanks for sharing this bungalow story; i can see it from your words and sense the elation of simple things captured by children everywhere, the splendid curiosity of youth.
Looking forward to more ...
Do you recall, was it an Indian motorcycle, they were popular back then?
This is precious, Henry; thank you again for writing.
Good morning all
The road to town washed out last week and the repair is still not complete. Long way into town and back home from trade day.
Being human is certainly multi-faceted.
Babylonians enslaved the Jews to keep their irrigation ditches clean...
This song reflects that memory
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bboWOqUrwt8]
“Until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
Good morning, Lookout; sorry about the road wahing away; it's
clear today, but more rain forecast, beginning tomorrow, it's a monsoon winter.
Bablonian history is not my forte, but found this article from The Jerusalem Post of interest.
Thanks for the good music; wonder how old the song is; passed down for centuries as history was told?
May sunshine brighten Lookout mountain today as it's warming grandfather and Mable.
I should also mention...
the transition from hunter/gatherer to farmer made us change our wild ways. And changed our focus from the moon to the sun.
I sure enjoyed our sunny day, but rain again tomorrow....ain't that the way of things?
“Until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
Good morning, Smiley. Thanks for another great OT.
The plight of indigenous women barely gets any attention from society, law enforcement, the judicial system and the human rights campaigners, but they are subject to violence, oppression and other harms (murder, trafficking, etc.) on a scale far worse than any other group of people. It's good to see artists taking up the cudgels. That last little picture is very telling, and on a large scale must make a profound impression. Good.
Rain again here.
Ome opf those mornings, wrote this at about 7:10 and just noticed I never posted it.
I fear for the rest of the day.
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
good morning, el; yes, hoping REDress gets lots of attention
and press.
May some sunshine find the West Coast, too and your day and week be full of good tidings.
Bernie live in NY
[video:https://youtu.be/6Yg9MfgdbRg]
As if you had another choice. So, you can listen in.
https://www.euronews.com/
Good morning, mimi; thanks for the heads-up
listening now ... "I know where I Came from," Bernie.
Have a good one.
Baking bread
So nice to go down cellar, cut fresh greens
When the ground is covered in snow
To come into the kitchen and
Smell the yeast of bread working
Maybe make a fire
Make the best of it
yum,
Enjoy greens, the best, a favorite; yep, 'make the best of it'
Have a marvelous evening and week.
And how
thanks for the OT!
Thank you smiley
Both the poems and the art harmonise so touchingly. I very much appreciated the artist you presented, and the music and video that supported the theme. The music calmed the soul of the effects of such a tragic matter. Both were so visceral and ethereal at the same time.
There’s a NZ artist who works with very similar themes in a similar way. The two presentations of Donna Sarten’s I’ve seen were both powerfully affective. The first one, 1344 Red Kiwis, a small work on a sculpture trail was of 1344 very small red, two-dimensional kiwi birds staked in the ground under bush; almost unoticible when passing in a certain light. At first sight it looks like something really sweet, a flock of baby kiwis protected by the bush. Then you learn that they represent the next generation of NZ children who are at risk of dying by the hands of their parents / caregivers.
The second installation was thousands of white plastic spoons stacked closely together in a wide grassy area at the corner of a major intersection where thousands pass every day. First you are captured by the pearly white light, and then of course you wonder what it is and what it means. So you google to find out, and learn what it represents - ''We are installing 83,000 spoons ... that is how many children go to school everyday without lunch,'' Sarten said.
It never fails to impress, how deeply a creative expression can stir one. I hope the stirring you feel will always move you deeply. I hope you're doing well in general.
edit to add link : https://donnaturtlesarten.com/feed-the-kids/
Hi janis,
The spoon facebook page is tearfully moving; so simple, yet so powerful.
Appreciate the good links to art and comments you bring and for understanding the theme.
Thank you for inquiring about everything and being patient as i'm okay and want to reply in a few days as the near future should become clearer.
Thanks for being here and have a wonderful afternoon and evening.
To clarity, sante!