Eä (Quenya): Universe

"The cure for anything is salt water -- sweat, tears, or the sea."

Isak Dinesen (pen name of Baroness Karen Christenze von Blixen-Finecke), author (1885-1962)

Here's the investigation tracking the source for the quote.

Pōwehi

Pōwehi is the unofficial name given to the Black Hole which was "captured on camera" -- more like its image was reconstructed from terabytes upon terabytes of data collected by a network of nine, NINE!, telescopes around the globe. It's a never-before-done feat, and it took decades, more than two hundred collaborators and a pretty penny to get it done.

It means "the adorned fathomless dark creation", and I think it's a frigging good name for such a beast. I'll let you peruse the article on the Hawaiian name, and for reference here's the article on the Black Hole per se.

Alternatively, here's what a cellist I like has done with the concept. I recommend that you read the articles while listening to the piece, it's sumptuous.

A day in the life

"Did you know that every two hours the nations of this world spent the same amount on
armaments as they spend on the children of this world every year? And did you know that the
worldwide food shortage that threatens up to five hundred million children could be alleviated at
the cost of only one day, only ONE day, of modern warfare."

Sir Peter Ustinov, actor, writer, and director (among many others) (1921-2004), Goodwill Ambassador for UNICEF.

The source for this quote can be tracked down in the audio script (it's a PDF, so it might download as soon as you click on the link). Here's the link for the video...but you have to pay (check the price though).

What Really Irritates Me In Men, Women, Poodles, and Other Sartorial Considerations Very Late at Night, Part 8

 

'Tis late. Very late, and very early. Perfect time for another instalment in that godforsaken series. My notes are overflowing with rants, some scribbled hastily and nervously. I can still sense the outrage seeping through. Pulsing. The rant itching on the roof of the palate. Them people, them dogs, them fashions. Won't ever rest, won't ever stop. Like a juggernaut rolling over innocents, leaving none unscathed in its path. Sometimes you don't see any of it taking place because the massacre happens elsewhere, as it sometimes seems to take a separate path, if just for a split nanosecond, in a reality so close to our own that they seem to merge. Moments otherwise known and exploited as memes as WTF moments. Life may just be one gigantic meme, or a series of gif, who knows.

I was recently introduced to resistentialism and my mind went [insert GIF of nuke bomb going off]. It's the idea that inanimate objects have a will of their own, and will become hostile at the right time – usually the worst for us. Picture this: you're late to a meeting, you need to print one document. The rage starts building up as no PDF document would open for some reason while it worked perfectly fine until now. Then the printer won't print. The berserker in you comes to the surface. Change the paper, the paper will jam. Some form of head-shaking acceptance seems to take over. Or the coffee machine will signal it's out of coffee, then a few minutes later you see a colleague with a steaming cup of coffee from said vending machine. Now you see resistentialism everywhere. And no, the printer is working fine. PDF not opening? The IT guy looked at it and said it worked fine. Is this our imagination playing tricks on us? Do we emit bad vibes and short-circuit stuff? Or, more plausibly, do machines have a will of their own, and plan on taking over the world by making us, slowly and irrevocably, mad? Like this alarm clock which has worked so well for so long and chose that day when I absolutely had to be on time not to go off. I'm sure I heard it snicker when it went off the next morning.

Such spite is by no means rare, and it leads me to my second segment: being late. A few weeks ago, I could finally delve into the mind of a person who is always late. I don't mean the hyperbolic 'always' we sometimes use to carry a point forward, I mean to carry it home: 'always' as in 'all the frigging time'. Late is by definition 'not on time', and she is that, by an average of 15 minutes. Yes, I'm keeping tabs, but no I don't use those against her, rather I use them to study the pattern. So we can both be late and arrive at roughly the same time. The other day she even arrived later than her “I'm running late” change of time. So I asked what the golden rule was, and she told me this (I'm paraphrasing for brevity):

Rule #1: If you leave your place before the convened time, you're not late.

Rule #2: If it's not too late to change the time, change it so you go back to Rule #1

The concept of “not too late” is arrogantly loose, and of course subject to wind, hygrometry, the age of the captain and the alignment of certain planets. Interestingly, I connected this frame of mind with this article. I have to admit that I was stunned by the practice, even though I had already experienced, like many of you I'm sure, my flight being delayed, leaving late and yet arriving on time. I had never connected the dots. I suspect my friend who is always late believes this to be true for her too.

But I can't really hold a grudge against her, she always has fantastic ideas and feeds my passionate hatred for poodles. She pointed out that poodles were dangerous for society, and even though I detest the pathetic beast I suggested they weren't that dangerous compared to other breeds. But she didn't mean the rather harmless and pitiful-looking maltipoo (yes, that's a thing and apparently the apex of cuteness: a cross-breed between a poodle and a Maltese dog. To think the Maltese is already enough to make the most seasoned seaman sick...I shudder at the thought), she rather meant this. I like how someone bent over backwards to make the acronym fit both something apparently harmless – as if poodles weren't savage monstrosities clad in white wool – and a malignant exploit in the Internet/software to reveal encrypted messages. Or perhaps this person knew how malevolent poodles can be.

While I was waiting for her, not having expected the second bout of lateness, I took my e-reader out and started rea– nope, because people are people, and some are better at it than others. Take those who listen to their phone, but they put the speaker to their ear, the phone horizontal. And then flip the phone to their mouth and yell something unintelligible to the recipient and to everyone around. And to those who try to read. Them people should get a damn headset, because they sure look beyond-word stupid.

Considering I wouldn't be able to read, I then took my notepad and thought to myself: “Sure people, we can play this. I'll observe and you'll be you. Not that my spleen will like it, but my pen shall bask in the absurdity of it all.” Like: I wonder how some people can still take pictures with iPads. And how selfie sticks for iPads still aren't a thing. Obviously, if the fad were to have died out it would've been ages ago. There's a niche in the market, and people shilly-shally about it. Come on, how hard can it be, in this age of carbon nanotubes?

I proceeded to notice a pattern which I had already jotted down, and which I saw repeated right before my eyes: some people sneeze but they say 'achoo' right after the sneeze. You're supposed to make the sound as you sneeze, not say the sound after you foolishly tried to stifle the sneeze in. That's the whole point of an onomatopoeia, and you seem quite adamant in trying to defeat its purpose. Especially since you failed, and perhaps your instinct knows better as you really could hurt your tympanums doing this. Here's what can happen). And it's downright nonsensical to do so – both stifling the sneeze and saying achoo after sneezing. People, le sigh.

You can tell I was already passably irritated. My friend was nowhere in sight, and she was twenty-five minutes late. So I observed further, fed the fire raging inside, watching those couples, those groups of friends, or businessmen with their clients...who refuse to walk in single-file in narrow corridors or on on pavements. Pretty much like escalator-clogging people. Not that I'm rushing all the time, but I know some people are so I have the courtesy to make way for that one time when I need to rush myself. I mulled and decided that this obnoxious was still better than those deserve-a-good-slap people who stop short while walking, especially in busy areas. And then getting all cranky because they're being shoved in. But then they realise that there's this massive wave of people surging their way, so they suddenly shut up. Next time, effing walk on. But some of them don't, and don't even realise that they are in the way. They just stop. Some people do deserve the juggernaut, sometimes [insert grinning devil emoji].

 

Windworse

"Bad weather always looks worse through a window."

Tom Lehrer (b. 1928), mathematician, singer, songwriter, pianist.

There's a few good things to unpack from this quote. At first you may think he's only referring to the feeling of security one has when the storm, whether literal or metaphorical, hits the fan. But you could also see it has: "You can still go out, it's not as bad as you think it is...and we all have to weather storms."

Alternitavely, you could say that the window (which is a form of lens) distorts the bad weather outside (the real world) and remaining snugly into your comfort zone gives you a false sense of security.

Or you could see it as an invitation to come dance in the rain :)

To round it all up, Lehrer is the one who said: "Political satire became obsolete when Henry Kissinger was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize." So darn funny and true, and still relevant today.

Here's the Wikiquote to have a good laugh, he definitely was the quotable type :)

Square Point²

Today, I stumbled upon this quote: "There are two ways to slide easily through life: to believe everything or to doubt everything; both ways save us from thinking."
Theodore Rubin, psychiatrist and writer (1923-2019).


While I do not know the context for this quote, I do know its origin. It's from Henri Poincaré's La Science et l'Hypothèse (1901): "Douter de tout ou tout croire, ce sont deux solutions également commodes, qui l'une et l'autre nous dispensent de réfléchir." Translated to "To doubt everything or to believe everything are two equally convenient solutions; both dispense with the necessity of reflection." It's often be re-quoted (adapted) but I feel that taken out of its context it doesn't say quite the same thing. Here's a bit of context:

"Quand on a un peu plus réfléchi, on a aperçu la place tenue par l’hypothèse ; on a vu que le mathématicien ne saurait s’en passer et que l’expérimentateur ne s’en passe pas davantage. Et alors, on s’est demandé si toutes ces constructions étaient bien solides et on a cru qu’un souffle allait les abattre. Être sceptique de cette façon, c’est encore être superficiel. Douter de tout ou tout croire, ce sont deux solutions également commodes, qui l’une et l’autre nous dispensent de réfléchir

Au lieu de prononcer une condamnation sommaire, nous devons donc examiner avec soin le rôle de l’hypothèse ; nous reconnaîtrons alors, non seulement qu’il est nécessaire, mais que le plus souvent il est légitime. Nous verrons aussi qu’il y a plusieurs sortes d’hypothèses, que les unes sont vérifiables et qu’une fois confirmées par l’expérience, elles deviennent des vérités fécondes ; que les autres, sans pouvoir nous induire en erreur, peuvent nous être utiles en fixant notre pensée, que d’autres enfin ne sont des hypothèses qu’en apparence et se réduisent à des définitions ou à des conventions déguisées."


Here's the English version:
"But upon more mature reflection the position held by hypothesis was seen; it was recognised that it is as necessary to the experimenter as it is to the mathematician. And then the doubt arose if all these constructions are built on solid foundations. The conclusion was drawn that a breath would bring them to the ground. This sceptical attitude does not escape the charge of superficiality. To doubt everything or to believe everything are two equally convenient solutions; both dispense with the necessity of reflection

Instead of a summary condemnation we should examine with the utmost care the rôle of hypothesis; we shall then recognise not only that it is necessary, but that in most cases it is legitimate. We shall also see that there are several kinds of hypotheses; that some are verifiable, and when once confirmed by experiment become truths of great fertility; that others may be useful to us in fixing our ideas; and finally, that others are hypotheses only in appearance, and reduce to definitions or to conventions in disguise."
Here's the Wikisource to both texts (there's a link for the English translation on the left-hand side).


One could be tempted to disagree with Monsieur Poincaré, but he meant "to doubt" in the French way "douter de" almost means "to discard", to set aside as not being relevant, not being true or believable. He valued the importance of the hypothesis, which is a way of clearing the factual doubts which you may have regarding one postulate. But one could still be doubting this as a scientist shouldn't discard a doubt because he doesn't believe in it. Doubts should remain in the realm of facts, not in the realm of personal judgement or appreciation. Another important element in this regard is "This sceptical attitude does not escape the charge of superficiality" (which in my opinion is over-translated, as the idea is simply "To be skeptical in this way is to be superficial still"). To be skeptical for the sake of doubting isn't a scientific way to process an argument. In this sense, doubting isn't the right way forward, yet in the way he initally phrased it, and which is relatively absent when the quote is detached from its context, doubting something scientifically, putting the idea to the test to clear or confirm doubts, is positive, and scientific.

I don't think that explaining the 'believing' aspect of the quote is necessary, yet one could see the relevance of juxtaposing the two ideas: believing everything is bad in itself, as you don't question and can be blinded by personal agendas, or the spite of some disohnest people. Doubting everything is equally bad...if you continue doubting even after being given solid arguments to make your own idea. If you doubt positively, it can lead you to a wider frame of mind, to greater acceptance. Doubting doesn't dispense with the necessity of reflection, it entails it.

Doubt for doubt's sake, meh.
Belief for belief's sake, meh.

I hope I cleared the doubt that you didn't know was there :)

One thing lead to another

A few days ago, I stumbled upon this quote from Flannery O'Connor (1925-1964):

"Truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it."

I didn't remember reading this, or in this form, in her short stories, so I looked it up. I found it in a letter O’Connor wrote in 1955 to a friend (letter available here):

“The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it emotionally. A higher paradox confounds emotion as well as reason and there are long periods in the lives of all of us, and of the saints, when the truth as revealed by faith is hideous, emotionally disturbing, downright repulsive. Witness the dark night of the soul in individual saints. Right now the whole world seems to be going through a dark night of the soul.”

The phrase, repeated twice, is ominous. The world seems to be toiling under the same dark night of the soul. I recognised it to be inspired by a poem by St John of the Cross*, even though it is not written verbatim. I'm too tired today to go deeper, so I'll leave you with the quote, the letter, the poem to outlast the night.

Flannery died at the same age I am today. All nights are dark, by definition, but not all of them are dark. Perhaps it is the same with souls, after all.



*Dark Night of the Soul
By St. John of the Cross
Translated by A.Z. Foreman


Once in the dark of night,
Inflamed with love and yearning, I arose
(O coming of delight!)
And went, as no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose

All in the dark went right,
Down secret steps, disguised in other clothes,
(O coming of delight!)
In dark when no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose.

And in the luck of night
In secret places where no other spied
I went without my sight
Without a light to guide
Except the heart that lit me from inside.

It guided me and shone
Surer than noonday sunlight over me,
And led me to the one
Whom only I could see
Deep in a place where only we could be.

O guiding dark of night!
O dark of night more darling than the dawn!
O night that can unite
A lover and loved one,
Lover and loved one moved in unison.

And on my flowering breast
Which I had kept for him and him alone
He slept as I caressed
And loved him for my own,
Breathing an air from redolent cedars blown.


And from the castle wall
The wind came down to winnow through his hair
Bidding his fingers fall,
Searing my throat with air
And all my senses were suspended there.

I stayed there to forget.
There on my lover, face to face, I lay.
All ended, and I let
My cares all fall away
Forgotten in the lilies on that day.

Here is the source for the poem.
 

A word is a word is a word is a word

Gertrude Stein, on her deathbed, asked to the people around her "What is the answer?" As she didn't get any reply, she continued: "In that case … what is the question?"

Adapted from What Is Remembered (1963) by Alice Babette Toklas (1877-1967), Stein's lifelong partner.

As soon as I wrote this, the name Stein reminded me of Conrad's Lord Jim, and all of a sudden I was engulfed in a memory which I couldn't process up until now. I grabbed my diary and after a few minutes completed the following poem from my notes.

The Professor

The shaking hand

the mind stuck

inside the husk

the eye thanking

the eyelid twitching

in fond remembrance

and the implacable thirst

the cotton dipped in apple juice

dabbed on the gums to quench the pain

you were staring at the ceiling

when I timidly stepped into the room –

quite unlike your wife twenty years ago.

we had stayed until she had left

then we left and she stayed

and we were all stayed

yesterday it was your left side

prostrate arm and leg, drooping eyelid

which was stuck in time, in place

today your right side succumbed

but for your arm, and your toes

yet you don't seem to be moving at all

I wonder if you have died

but your eyes hold their ground

you groan, you stare into my eyes

you want something which you cannot name

so I hold the magic slate and the felt-tip

fell like your felt hat, long ago,

askew, in dashing silken white

the feeble fingers grip the pen

the instinctive grasp

the way you've always held your pen

on this second try you write

the last, terrible, clear-minded

“I am gone.”

You couldn't realise this

but these last words

are your last logos with me,

cenotaphing your memorial

in the graveyard of the mind

you remind me of Kurtz on his deathbed,

uttering the four words which sent

me on a life-long quest for the truth.

You had peeked behind the veil

had a foot across the threshold

you spoke your truth, aporia of a man

the glint which beckons to read on

so I recite and scan, give you Auden

because you had given it to me

two decades or so ago

Sunny Prestatyn wrinkles your eye

in cheeky souvenir

your inward eye sees the same

field of daffodils

which you made me see

I'm glad you got to keep that inward eye

and suddenly you grow tired

the day has waned

you frown when I don't understand,

tire of repeating, your mind alert

and pointing to the obvious

locked in the sarcophagus

of your own body.

You mean something I cannot yet understand.

Today, you have gone.

In fond memory of Philip L., who guided my first footsteps in the world of English Literature, who nurtured and listened, patiently advised, read and commented, inspired. We eventually became friends over our mutual passion for words, written and spoken, and thought. He was a funny, eccentric fellow and you'd be hard put to find a student who didn't like him. He had a great mind for quotes, and bequeathed me books when I left university...which were the same books which I read to him on the day I visited him at the hospital a few weeks after he had a stroke, a few weeks before he passed away. Each of his movements demanded he drew on a diminishing reserve of strength, which gave the slightest sigh greater significance, which gave his gazes greater heartache. Whatever awaits us, I hope you have found the rest you deserve, my dear friend.

 

Shakespeare's Ward

A few years ago, I wrote this article about this infamous "quote" from Shakespeare:

"I always feel happy. You know why? Because I don't expect anything from anyone; expectations always hurt. Life is short, so love your life. Be happy and keep smiling. Just live for yourself and always remember: Before you speak... Listen. Before you write... Think. Before you spend... Earn. Before you pray... Forgive. Before you hurt... Feel. Before you hate... Love. Before you quit... Try. Before you die... Live." 

At the time I debunked it as NOT-Shakespeare but left it at that. But a few days later I came across it on Reddit...I had to unearth the notebook in which I had written down a similar poem by William Arthur Ward which goes: 

"Before you speak, listen.
Before you write, think.
Before you spend, earn.
Before you invest, investigate.
Before you criticize, wait.
Before you pray, forgive.
Before you quit, try.
Before you retire, save.
Before you die, give."

I had noted it down for future reference and also in order to track its source. I had never taken the time to do this, so today I did. NO-EFFING-WHERE! Zilch, nada, rien, nought. Couldn't find the original source for the poem to save my life. Does anyone know? That's a question for Quora, since Reddit people took the bait.

Not quite the same poem. Lines 3 and 4 are missing from the Shax ref. Two lines are inserted in the Shax ref after "pray, forgive". Penultimate line is skipped, last line is altered (give/live). The Ward poem (I'll call it that for the time being) definitely has rhyming patterns: listen/earn; investigate/wait; forgive/give (even save). We do hear echoes in the pairs: speak/think; invest/investigate; wait, pray, save. I'm not a Ward specialist, but that's arguably a better disposition, phrasing, tone, structure, than the Shakesparean "equivalent". Less schmaltz, more pragmatically inspirational.

Ironically enough, when you google "William Arthur Ward", one first look won't yield the quote: you need a second, more careful look to find it. Not exactly buried, yet not in plain sight. My guts tell me we haven't seen the last of this affair [insert smiley of your choosing]. 

All in all, I'm still amazed that this quote still roams the outskirts of the Internet. 

Edit: I published this post, and then had an epiphany and found this Snopes article, for all intents and purposes. 

The husk cannot hold

"Money may be the husk of many things but not the kernel. It brings you food, but not appetite; medicine, but not health; acquaintances, but not friends; servants, but not loyalty; days of joy, but not peace or happiness."

Henrik Ibsen, Norwegian playwright and poet (1828-1906)


Another quote which I could not trace. If anyone could enlighten me, I'd be really grateful :)