“Just as iron rusts from disuse, even so does inaction spoil the intellect.”

- Leonardo da Vinci -

The hand is the instrument by which we execute our works, the sign of our nobility, the means by which the intellect gives form and shape to its artistic conceptions, by which it gives reality to the mandates of its will, by which it exercises the dominion that God conceded to man over all other creatures.

La mano è lo strumento delle nostre opere, il segno della nostra nobiltà, il mezzo attraverso il quale l'intelligenza riveste con una forma i suoi pensieri artistici, e dà esistenza alle creazioni della volontà, ed esercita l'imperio che Dio concesse all'uomo su tutte le creature.

Juan Valera

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Fotomarathon Dag 7

The universe is built on a plan the profound symmetry of which is somehow present in the inner structure of our intellect.

It is very strange, this domination of our intellect by our digestive organs. We cannot work, we cannot think, unless our stomach wills so. It dictates to us our emotions, our passions. After eggs and bacon it says, "Work!" After beefsteak and porter, it says, "Sleep!" After a cup of tea (two spoonfuls for each cup, and don't let it stand for more than three minutes), it says to the brain, "Now rise, and show your strength. Be eloquent, and deep, and tender; see, with a clear eye, into Nature, and into life: spread your white wings of quivering thought, and soar, a god-like spirit, over the whirling world beneath you, up through long lanes of flaming stars to the gates of eternity!"

--Jerome K. Jerome (well, now, if you insist, Mr. Jerome)

My friend D. recommended Twinings tea.

So I doubled-rinsed my old diffusers, that's all.

Om gam ganapataye namaha!

This was taken at Kripalu Yoga Center in Lenox, MA in the Western Mass Berkshires.

Although he is known by many other attributes, Ganesha's elephant head makes him easy to identify. Ganesha is widely revered as the Remover of Obstacles and more generally as Lord of Beginnings and Lord of Obstacles (Vighnesha, Vighneshvara), patron of arts and sciences, and the deva of intellect and wisdom. He is honored at the start of rituals and ceremonies and invoked as Patron of Letters during writing sessions.

I am invoking Ganesh as I get back into my (abandoned) yoga practice.

Celastraceae (staff vine or bittersweet family) » Celastrus paniculatus

see-LAS-trus -- from the ancient Greek kelastros, the name of another tree

pan-ick-yoo-LAY-tus or pan-ick-yoo-LAH-tus -- referring to the flower clusters (panicles)

commonly known as: black-oil plant, celastrus, oriental bittersweet, intellect tree, staff tree • Bengali: kijri, malkangani • Gujarati: માલકંગના malkangana • Hindi: मालकंगनी malkangani • Kannada: ಭವಮ್ಗ bhavamga, ಜೊತಿಷ್ಮತಿ jotishmati, ಕರಿಗನ್ನೇ kariganne, ಕೊಉಗಿಲು kougilu • Konkani: माळकांगोणी malkangoni • Marathi: कांगुणी kanguni, माळकांगोणी malkangoni • Oriya: korsana, pengu • Sanskrit: अलवण alavan, ज्योतिषमति jyotishmati, कन्गु kangu • Tamil: குவரிகுண்டல் kuvarikuntal, மண்ணைக்கட்டி mannai-k-katti, வாலுளுவை valuluvai • Telugu: కాసరతీగె kasara-tige, మానెరు maneru • Urdu: کنگني مال malkanguni

Native to: India, China, Sri Lanka, south-east Asia

References: Flowers of India • Sahyadri Database • ENVIS - FRLHT • eFlora

www.riverhillgardens.co.uk/

History

The John Rogers who bought Riverhill in 1840 was an only child, with a modest fortune, and a fine intellect. He became a classics scholar, a scientist and a friend of Charles Darwin. He was one of the first members of the Royal Horticultural Society and a patron of the plant collectors of the day.

He chose Riverhill because its sheltered situation offered an ideal lime free hillside where he could hope to establish newly introduced trees and shrubs. From his garden notebook, it can be seen that planting started in 1842. Subsequent generations, continued the planting and in 1910 Colonel John Middleton Rogers created what is now known as ‘The Wood Garden’ a fine collection of Japanese Maples, Rhododendrons and Azaleas. His wife, the infamous Muriel, created many additions including the now hidden Rock Gardens.

Until the beginning of the 2nd World War, eight full time gardeners kept Riverhill looking immaculate. Since the war years, however, a shortage of manpower and a lack of money has meant that the garden was allowed to deteriorate, with many parts of the original planting lost to everyday use and visitors.

Today, four generations of the Rogers family live at Riverhill,

The estate is managed by Edward Rogers (Great-great-great-grandson of the John Rogers who bought Riverhill in 1840) and his wife, Sarah.

Celastraceae (staff vine or bittersweet family) » Celastrus paniculatus

see-LAS-trus -- from the ancient Greek kelastros, the name of another tree

pan-ick-yoo-LAY-tus or pan-ick-yoo-LAH-tus -- referring to the flower clusters (panicles)

commonly known as: black-oil plant, celastrus, oriental bittersweet, intellect tree, staff tree • Bengali: kijri, malkangani • Gujarati: માલકંગના malkangana • Hindi: मालकंगनी malkangani • Kannada: ಭವಮ್ಗ bhavamga, ಜೊತಿಷ್ಮತಿ jotishmati, ಕರಿಗನ್ನೇ kariganne, ಕೊಉಗಿಲು kougilu • Konkani: माळकांगोणी malkangoni • Marathi: कांगुणी kanguni, माळकांगोणी malkangoni • Oriya: korsana, pengu • Sanskrit: अलवण alavan, ज्योतिषमति jyotishmati, कन्गु kangu • Tamil: குவரிகுண்டல் kuvarikuntal, மண்ணைக்கட்டி mannai-k-katti, வாலுளுவை valuluvai • Telugu: కాసరతీగె kasara-tige, మానెరు maneru • Urdu: کنگني مال malkanguni

Native to: India, China, Sri Lanka, south-east Asia

References: Sahyadri Database • ENVIS - FRLHT • eFlora

John Hawks is in the middle of explaining his research on human evolution when he drops a bombshell. Running down a list of changes that have occurred in our skeleton and skull since the Stone Age, the University of Wisconsin anthropologist nonchalantly adds, “And it’s also clear the brain has been shrinking.”

“Shrinking?” I ask. “I thought it was getting larger.” The whole ascent-of-man thing.

“That was true for 2 million years of our evolution,” Hawks says. “But there has been a reversal.”

He rattles off some dismaying numbers: Over the past 20,000 years, the average volume of the human male brain has decreased from 1,500 cubic centimeters to 1,350 cc, losing a chunk the size of a tennis ball. The female brain has shrunk by about the same proportion. “I’d call that major downsizing in an evolutionary eyeblink,” he says. “This happened in China, Europe, Africa—everywhere we look.” If our brain keeps dwindling at that rate over the next 20,000 years, it will start to approach the size of that found in Homo erectus, a relative that lived half a million years ago and had a brain volume of only 1,100 cc. Possibly owing to said shrinkage, it takes me a while to catch on. “Are you saying we’re getting dumber?” I ask.

Hawks, a bearish man with rounded features and a jovial disposition, looks at me with an amused expression. “It certainly gives you a different perspective on the advantage of a big brain,” he says.

After meeting with Hawks, I call around to other experts to see if they know about our shrinking brain. Geneticists who study the evolution of the human genome seem as surprised as I am (typical response: “No kidding!”), which makes me wonder if I’m the world’s most gullible person. But no, Hawks is not pulling my leg. As I soon discover, only a tight-knit circle of paleontologists seem to be in on the secret, and even they seem a bit muddled about the matter. Their theories as to why the human brain is shrinking are all over the map.

Some believe the erosion of our gray matter means that modern humans are indeed getting dumber. (Late-night talk show hosts, take note—there’s got to be some good comic material to mine here.) Other authorities argue just the opposite: As the brain shrank, its wiring became more efficient, transforming us into quicker, more agile thinkers. Still others believe that the reduction in brain size is proof that we have tamed ourselves, just as we domesticated sheep, pigs, and cattle, all of which are smaller-brained than their wild ancestors. The more I learn, the more baffled I become that news of our shrinking brain has been so underplayed, not just in the media but among scientists. “It’s strange, I agree,” says Christopher Stringer, a paleoanthropologist and expert on human origins at the Natural History Museum in London. “Scientists haven’t given the matter the attention it deserves. Many ignore it or consider it an insignificant detail.”

But the routine dismissal is not as weird as it seems at first blush, Stringer suggests, due to the issue of scaling. “As a general rule,” he says, “the more meat on your bones, the more brain you need to control massive muscle blocks.” An elephant brain, for instance, can weigh four times as much as a human’s. Scaling is also why nobody seems too surprised by the large brains of the Neanderthals, the burly hominids that died out about 30,000 years ago.

The Homo sapiens with the biggest brains lived 20,000 to 30,000 years ago in Europe. Called the Cro-Magnons, they had barrel chests and huge, jutting jaws with enormous teeth. Consequently, their large brains have often been attributed to brawniness rather than brilliance. In support of that claim, one widely cited study found that the ratio of brain volume to body mass—commonly referred to as the encephalization quotient, or EQ—was the same for Cro-Magnons as it is for us. On that basis, Stringer says, our ancestors were presumed to have the same raw cognitive horsepower.

Now many anthropologists are rethinking the equation. For one thing, it is no longer clear that EQs flatlined back in the Stone Age. Recent studies of human fossils suggest the brain shrank more quickly than the body in near-modern times. More important, analysis of the genome casts doubt on the notion that modern humans are simply daintier but otherwise identical versions of our ancestors, right down to how we think and feel. Over the very period that the brain shrank, our DNA accumulated numerous adaptive mutations related to brain development and neurotransmitter systems—an indication that even as the organ got smaller, its inner workings changed. The impact of these mutations remains uncertain, but many scientists say it is plausible that our temperament or reasoning abilities shifted as a result.

Numerous phone calls later, it dawns on me that the world’s foremost experts do not really know why our organ of intellect has been vanishing. But after long ignoring the issue, some of them have at least decided the matter is of sufficient importance to warrant a formal inquiry. They have even drawn some bold, albeit preliminary, conclusions.

DUMBING DOWN

In search of a global explanation for our cranial downsizing, some scientists have pointed to a warming trend in the earth’s climate that also began 20,000 years ago. Since bulky bodies are better at conserving heat, larger frames may have fared better in the colder climate. As the planet warmed, selection might have favored people of slighter stature. So, the argument goes, skeletons and skulls shrank as the temperature rose—and the brain got smaller in the process. Stringer thinks there is something to that idea, but he doubts it is the whole explanation. As he points out, comparable warming periods occurred many times over the previous 2 million years, yet body and brain size regularly increased.

Another popular theory attributes the decrease to the advent of agriculture, which, paradoxically, had the initial effect of worsening nutrition. Quite simply, the first farmers were not very successful at eking out a living from the land, and their grain-heavy diet was deficient in protein and vitamins—critical for fueling growth of the body and brain. In response to chronic malnutrition, our body and brain might have shrunk. Many anthropologists are skeptical of that explanation, however. The reason: The agricultural revolution did not arrive in Australia or southern Africa until almost contemporary times, yet brain size has declined since the Stone Age in those places, too.

Which brings us to an unpleasant possibility. “You may not want to hear this,” says cognitive scientist David Geary of the University of Missouri, “but I think the best explanation for the decline in our brain size is the idiocracy theory.” Geary is referring to the eponymous 2006 film by Mike Judge about an ordinary guy who becomes involved in a hibernation experiment at the dawn of the 21st century. When he wakes up 500 years later, he is easily the smartest person on the dumbed-down planet. “I think something a little bit like that happened to us,” Geary says. In other words, idiocracy is where we are now.

discovermagazine.com/2010/sep/25-modern-humans-smart-why-...

Males came to power about 5000 years ago.

Before, it was women who ruled the world.

Book, Messengers of the Dawn, Barbara Marciniak, Ed. Ariane}

"It is the woman who was chosen, from the beginning, by the Invisible to act prophetically on the White race, and it is to a prophecy of the woman in a state of ecstasy, of the Volupsa that the Whites last their salvation. On the point of coming to terms with their hands, two great white leaders were warned by the Volupsa that the black warriors, hidden in large numbers in the surrounding area, were only waiting for the end of the struggle between the whites to come and destroy the survivors. This supernatural revelation greatly struck the minds of the two leaders who united and exterminated the blacks. The authority of the Druidesses grew, but they eventually introduced terror and human sacrifice. Around 10,000 BC, some of the Celts left to flee the Druids. These are these wandering Celts or bodhones, part of whom later, after a thousand vicissitudes, constituted the Hebrew people.

A druid named Ram came to save the compatriots from leprosy and druids. A "revelation" taught him to prepare the oak mistletoe in a certain way to cure leprosy and a way for the college of druids to no longer be under the authority of the druids.

To avoid a civil war, Ram had to leave the country with several thousand Celts around 6700 BC. He eventually gave birth to Ram's Empire, which had a great influence on all the traditions of the White race.

He later changed his name from Ram (the Aries) to Lam (the lamb) and founded the Lamic cult in Tibet.

"It is here that secular historians begin history. They see the white or Aryan race coming from India to bring from there, the white tradition all over the Earth; but they do not know that the Whites had come from elsewhere and from the West to India. "

Various names given to Ram:

Rama (Hindus), Lama (Thibet), Fô (China), Pa (Japan), Pa-Pa, Pa-di-Shah or Pa-si-pa (North Asia), Giam-Shyd (Persians, Iranians), Dionysus (Arriens).

Book, Elementary treatise on occult sciences, Papus, Ed. Dangles}

www.infomysteres.com/histoire/histoire26.htm

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator

Irish-Tyre: The Tribe of Dan in Northern Ireland

by Moe | History of the Brotherhood, Irish History, Latest Media

“The native rulers fled abroad in the episode known as the Flight of the Earls but, as with all the major Irish kingships, the line of descent continues into the present day.”

One of the oldest and most important kingdoms of Ancient Europe had originated in the Northern lands of Gaelic Ireland in a place that I would like to call the “New Tyre of the West.” It is from here where we can find the lost Tribe of Dan who is called in the Ancient Irish Annals the “Tuatha-da-Danaans.”

A tribe, people, and place who I believe along with the Tribe of Judah that one day may be credited with helping lay the cornerstone down for the foundation of Ireland and many other countries which spawned shortly thereafter.

The lost history of the Irish Tyranians who I believe is connected to the Biblical “Tribe of Dan” can be found secretly encoded into their long illustrious history, the geography of the region, and the hardships and success they have both endured and earned through countless centuries of fighting for God’s kingdom.

Today, we know of this location of the Irish Tyranians with their tribe the Tuatha-da-Danans in the province of Tyrconnell, also spelled Tirconnell, in the present-day County Donegal. Anciently, I have found that it was also spelled Tyr II, Tyrol, and or Tyrone.

ETYMOLOGY OF TYR-CONN-ELL

Before I delve into this fascinating history, it is important that I first quickly explain the etymology of the name Tyrconnell and also the County Donegal.

Tyrconnell is a compound word containing the words “Tyr, conn, and ell.”

In a previous article, Tyre-Egypt: God’s Ancient Stone Masons of the Tora, I had went over the etymology of Tyre where I show that it is derived for the old words in many different languages for rock, stone, and or mountain which was anciently called “Tur, Tsur, Tzor, Tor, Tora, Toorah, Tura, Tyr, Tir etc.”

I had also shown that the Phoenician Tyranians were world-traveling Master Masons who were the hereditary descendants of King Hiram in search of the Tyr Limestone. They were also world-famous throughout history to be the best shipbuilders, navigators, and businessmen who had a long tradition of naming their new settlements in a new language that can be proved had spawned from their Phoenician ports and alphabets which they took with them from the East.

After careful analyzation of their history, this proves to me that this was their simple secret formula for not only the birth of successful nation-states but also the legal identification of their landholdings ie: real estate titles.

They seem to follow the same exact Babylonian plan wherever they would venture around the globe as we find in Northern Ireland such as in Donegal County and Ulster where they governed. I would assume that if you are an ancient military and city planner for Tyre that they would both incorporate and honor the necessary ingredients for city planning from their ancestors which included cornerstones brought from their ancestral lands, language, names, laws, religion, and their main method of domination, commerce.

Their main military goal where they traveled was to find and seize all territory along a country’s largest waterways, rivers, and lakes for unlimited freshwater, agriculture and also the safest seaport for travel, commerce, exports, and imports.

In this areal photo of Northern Ireland, we can clearly see that any tribe that ruled from Donegal and Ulster controlled the largest waterways, ports, and from North Coast, they could easily deploy to Scotland and rule these lands with their boats and armies.

Not surprisingly, it was in these precise locations where they would not only find their prized white limestone (AKA – Tyr, Tir, Tur, Tor) for their immortal Masonic endeavors, but they would also be able to gain control of entire countries and sometimes multiple countries. Once they would become established, they would rule these lands through commerce, laws, religion, myths, and education which they created this system of conquering a native people’s mind, body, and soul which all coincide with one another.

Hence, what worked in Tyre, Egypt and even better in Tyre, Crete would also work wherever they would travel such as this new successful colony in what could be called the third Tyre – Tyrconnell, Ireland. They would also use place names to designate their specific domain (dan-ain), a compound word derived from dan-ain for the Tribe of Dan

This same military methodology that endures the test of time to this very day.

The meaning of the next word in Tyr-conn-ell is ‘conn or con’ which means ‘with’ and is related to the Gaelic ‘comh’ – a prefix denoting “with, com or con.”

Not surprisingly and as I have witnessed as a global fact, these Irish Masonic Builders of Solomon’s Temple from ancient Tyre had added the old name for God onto their name which is the Phoenician and Hebrew El also spelled ul,il, or al and can be variously translated as “God, Lord and or Governor”

With that said, the meaning of Tyrconnell is “Stone-Rock of God or “God’s Stone Masons.”

ETYMOLOGY OF DONEGAL COUNTY

As I mentioned above, the men of Tyre had honored their ancestor’s several ways and I have found that the main method by which they did so was the naming of geographic locations that they controlled like the city of Tyrconnell in their county which they named ‘Donegal.’

In this compound word of Donegal which is composed of the words “don or dan” and the word egal”, we can find the name of the lost Tribe of Dan who is called the “Tuatha-da-Danans” officially encoded into North Irelands ancient history.

The meaning of the Gaelic name Don is also Dan in English was applied to their territory Donegal in order to honor their Tribe of Dan. Since ancient times, the name Dan, Don and or Dom was a title of respect given in Ireland, Scotland, and England to learned or clever men.

For example, in the Lowland Scotch language, a Dominie was a “schoolmaster” and in Latin, a Dominus is a lord, a master and where we get the word dominate, to rule, and dominion, lordship, mastery, rule. Likewise, in Spanish, a Don is a title that is equivalent to “Sir or Master.”

This was the same title of Dom for the original Catholic Benedictine Priesthood which was first only applied to monks, but afterward was extended to persons of all respectable professions.

The next word in Donegal is ‘egal’ which simply means “equal or equal to”.

Therefore, we can say that the territory of Danites was the County Donegal which means the “County or Province Equal to Dan.” I believe this could be in reference to the “Western Branch” in which they being now masters of both Ireland and Scotland were equal in the West to their Eastern Brethren of the Tribe of Dan.

GEOGRAPHICAL SCIENCE SETS THEE WAYMARKS OF DAN

We find that the Tribe of Dan has Set thee waymarks in the places which were named after them meaning Dan’s resting place. This geography corresponds to ancient Irish history which says that in approximately 585, B. C, a ship landed at Ulster, Ireland, which was manned by the “Tuatha-da-Danans” (Tribe of Dan).

According to the annals, amongst their cargo on their voyage to Ireland they were in possession of a large oblong stone in which after their vessel had been temporarily disabled on the coast of Spain, during which the King of Spain attempted to obtain possession of the stone, but the king failed and the guardians of the stone, the Tuatha-da-Danans made it out of Spain to land on the beautiful coast of Northern Ireland.

In Ptolemy’s map of Ireland, we find Dan’s- Lough, Dan-Sowar, Dan-Sobairse, Dan’s resting place, and Dan’s habitation, and Dan-gan Castle (the birth-place of the Duke of Wellington).

Irish Historian, Thomas Moore had written that the Tuatha de Danaan (Tribe of Dana), “after sojourning for some time in Greece… proceeded from thence to Denmark and Norway”.

Author Geoffrey Keating (ca.1570 1646)had said that the Danaans were a people of great learning and wealth; they left Greece after a battle with the Assyrians and went to Ireland; and also to Danmark, and called it “DAN-mares”, “Dan’s country.”

According to The Essential Teachings of Herbert W. Armstrong, the Tribe of Dan left their serpent waymarks at “Danslaugh,” “Dansower,” “Dundalke,” “Dundrum,” “Donegal Bay,” “Donegal City,” “Dunglow,” “Londonderry,” and ” Dingle,”

THE IRISH OLLAMS SAME AS SONS OF ULAM ALL OVER THE WORLD

It was said in the Irish Annals that among the passengers of the Danans was a princess of remarkable beauty named Tephi who was accompanied by her guardian, afterward known by the name Ollam Fola. In my previous article, I explain that King Ollamh (Ollam) Fodhla was known as the great lawgiver and patron of learning to early Ireland.

To this day in Ireland as it did then, an ollam or ollamh means “a doctor, professor and or scholar of any kind of learning.” In other countries around the world such as in the Islamic nation, these learned me are known as the Ulam of Mulah.

King Ollam is mentioned in the “Annals of the Four Masters,” p. 412, as a sage and law-giver. He was said to have founded a College of Ollams at Tara, or a ‘School of the Prophets.” There was actually a famous college at Tara called the Mur Ollam han, or the House of the Learned. Four Masters, p. 293.

“Besides all these reforms the great legislator founded a University at Tara, which, for rank and dignity, preceded all others of the kingdom, and which he called MurOllam-han, or the College of Doctors (vide O Halloran, Book iv., chap. 1, p. 132), which, since we have discovered the word to mean “Revealers,” would stand for the School of Revealers.

Ollam Fola ordered the sacred records to be kept at Tara. “These form the basis of ancient Irish history.” (Annals of the Four Masters, note p. 297.) Ollam Fola was called the “Chroni. cle’” (vide Moore, i, 114.)

The name we find in Ancient Irish history as Ollamh (Ollam) we can also connect Biblically to the Sons of Ulam who Bedan, meaning Son of Dan can also align to ancient Irish history.

Another passenger on the boat mentioned in the Irish annals that were associated with Tuatha-da-Danans was a man named Simon Baruch who we can identify as part of the global Sons of Ulam or in Gaelic – Ollamh (Ollam) who have been tasked to bring this knowledge to the world.

This man Simon I will discuss in a future article in which I will detail the fascinating history of the Irish Sons of Ulam of whom I believe one of the most famous is Saint Columba or Co-ulum-ba who was once a Supreme Ulam of Ireland.

THE TYRE MASONS OF TARA IRELAND

We learn that from Irish mythology that when the Tuatha-da-Danans landed in Ireland, they were newcomers and there was already a ruling king whose castle in Meath, was changed from Lothair Grofinn to Tara.

It is said that Princess Tephi upon her death was buried here in a sepulcher that is covered by a mound of earth 60 feet square whose remains are intact to this day and is called “Tara or The Hill of Tara.”

The Hill of Tara is an ancient ceremonial and burial site near Skryne in County Meath, Ireland. According to ancient tradition, it was the inauguration place and seat of the High Kings of Ireland.

Here is an ancient depiction of the topography of this area.

It is here in Tara, where you will discover the ancient remnants of the Masons of the Tyranian Irish who left numerous limestone monuments and earthworks — including burial mounds, round enclosures, the “Mound of the Hostages”, and a standing stone that some believe to be the “Stone of Destiny” (Lia Fáil).

There is also a church and graveyard on the hill.

Modern-day Tara is part of a larger ancient landscape and Tara itself is a protected national monument under the care of The Office of Public Works, an agency of the Irish Government.

To reiterate from past research, the name Tara comes from the words “tor, tur, tyr, tir, tora, torah, tura etc.” which all mean “stone or rock and later also to mean “mountain, chief, Lord, God, and or prince for their descendants.”

I believe these precise locations were known well over 2,000 years ago and were shown on Ptolemy’s ancient map of Ireland.

In Isa. 66-19 we read, and I will set a sign among them, and I will send those that escaped of them unto the nations, etc., to Tarshish and the Isles afar off. On an Ancient map of Ptolemy’s, England and Scotland are named Javan, and Spain, Portugal, and France are frequently mentioned as Tarshish, the ships of Tarshish, etc.

Ulam’s son, Bedan whose history and name we can bridge with the Tuatha-da-Danans and their Irish High King Baedan which means “Son of Dan” (King Tech- Baoithin, Baithen, Baithin, Baithan, Baetin, Baitan Mor, Báetán mac Muirchertaig, “Baithen the Great”.)

This King Baedan became the father of the senior line of the Hy-Niall kings (King of Ireland and Scotland) because he was the great-grandson of Niall of the Hostages and his grandmother was Scottish Princess of Dalriada named Erca which united the two ancient kingdoms of Scotland and Ireland into one.

The Pictish Chronicles informs us that they were from Ollamhan, whence comes Mur Ollamhan at Tara, to Fiacha, son of Baedan,” who fettered the hostages of Erin and Alba. Also, seven kings of the Alban Cruithnech governed Erin (Ireland and Scotland) at Tara.

For example, Of this king’s descendants, we see the name Olma encoded into their sirnames such as his son Colmán Rímid and Maeluma.

KING MILESIUS OF IRELAND THE SAME AS KING MILESIUS OF CRETE

As I mentioned above, in the tradition of honoring their mariner ancestors, they would rename these new lands they had conquered and even the characters in their myths and also importing the very language, laws, and history in the very boats that carried them.

This is where we meet with more of their ancient mythology encoded into the Irish Annals, which include volumes called the Annals of Ulster, the Annals of the Four Masters, etc.

A major clue to the original homeland of these people comes from the old Irish folklore which states that they arrived in Ireland with an expeditionary force from anywhere between the 17th to the 6th centuries B.C. They are said to have spawned from the fifth son of King Milesius who was the progenitor of the Milesian race and hereditary Father to some of the earliest tribes of Ireland and the noble families of Ulster.

This story of King Milesius in Ireland coincides exactly with the mythology of their homeland which I believe was both in old Tyre (Tora, Tura) Egypt and in new Tyre on the Holy Island of Crete.

The ancient homelands of their ancestors.

In researching the most remote mythology on this King Milesius, we will discover that the oldest reference takes us directly to the ancient mythology of Crete where we find it was King Melissus who first introduced sacrifice to the Gods, and introduced new rights and sacred ceremonies on this island.

He had two daughters Amalthea and Melissa, which nursed the child Jupiter, and fed him with goat’s milk and honey. Melisseus was the eldest and leader of the nine Curetes (Kuretes) of Crete. The meaning of the name Melisseus is “bee-man,”and another form of Melissus, in Cretan means, “honey-man.”

CURETES & CABIRI OF CRETE SAME AS CABIRI & DRUIDS OF IRELAND

According to Diodorus Siculus, the Curetes lived in the time of Rhea; The Father of History, Herodotus and Strabo writing later both had said that the Curetes were originally Phoenicians who accompanied Cadmus out of Phoenicia.

The ancient Curetes (Kuretes) of Crete I have written extensively about these various connections in history with the Priesthood of Zeus who were also known by many other names such as the Telchnines (Telknines, Telkhis, Telegonus, or Greek, Τελχῖνες), Corybantes, Dactyls, and Cabiri.

These same Priesthoods with their same history and myths bring us to another connection to Ancient Ireland that would be hard to refute which is through the history of a well-known but mysterious Priesthood called the Druids.

For example, both the Cretans and Egyptians had a priesthood that was called the Cabiri and so did the ancient Irish.

In a previous article, The Irish Druid Cabiri Are the Same As the Phoenician Cabiri, I explained that you will find that the Latin name Cabiri and Old Irish Cabur is derived from the Phoenician Hebrew word Kabir that is sometimes spelled Cabir, Chabir, Chabiru, and Chabireh. Cabur was once of the ancient God of Ireland being that of the ancient Irish pantheon of Gods known as Axire, Axcearas, Coismaol, and Cabur.

The priests of this God were called the Druid Caburi or Cabiri.

According to the ancient Phoenician historian, Sanchoniatho, the mysteries of the Cabiri were first celebrated by the Phoenicians, and introduced into Greece. He had written that first or original Cabiri were the eight Sons of Sydyc, who was a Canaanite.

They lived in the Days of Taaut of Thoth who is the same as the Phoenician Hermes. Pausanias, the Greek historian and geographer who lived in the time of his cousin, the Roman Emperor Hadrian, relates, that the Mother of the Gods was anciently worshiped at Thebes with the Cabiri, whose Names and Mysteries he durst not divulge.

THE FALL OF THE IRISH TYRE

The kingdom of Tyrconnell represented the core homeland of the Tribe of Dan who became known in the Irish Annals as the Tuatha-da-Danans with various families and subunits of families whose the most successful under the banners of the Ulaid, Northern Uí Néill, Niall of the Nine Hostages, and Ulster all vying for power.

The chief seat of the ancient royal Irish families was sacked and ceased several times by English forces in their attempts to reduce the country to obedience to the royal authority. However, the warrior spirit of the Irish branches of the Tuatha-da-Danans proved to be a formidable fight to the invading English until the close of the reign of Elizabeth, when it would become the location of fighting during what was called Tyrone’s Rebellion at the end of the 15th Century.

It was said to be burned by Hugh O’Neill, earl of Tyrone, to prevent its falling into the hands of the queen’s forces in Ireland.

Their power continued to exist until the 17th century when before the English invaded their lands, the ancient native rulers of Ireland fled to the North and abroad in the episode known as the Flight of the Earls. It was then finally incorporated into the English-ruled Kingdom of Ireland.

But, as with all the major Irish kingships, the line of hereditary descent continues into the present day.

LEGAL BANNERS FOR THE WARRIORS OF GOD AND THE KING

In researching the Ancient History of Ireland, you will find that it was here that the first laws and legal system of the Western World was developed in the reign of Ollamh Fodhla who I have mentioned were the learned men who ruled over their people. This legal system was known as the Brehon Law which operated late into the 17th century and was abolished and later became the English common law system. After the English had conquered these lands in the time of Elizabeth I, the Brehon laws were considered to be old, lewd, and unreasonable.

However, one of the most important legal ordinances of Brehon Law was for Tribal Heraldry where their tribal insignias bearing various symbols and colors would identify their rank. It is my understanding that before this time in the West, tribal and royal heraldry was not governed by a legal assembly such as the Ollamh Fodhla.

The various Celtic Tribes who jostled for control of Ireland were distinguished by particular symbols and colors each class of society was to wear in their clothes were specially regulated by Brehon Law.

Servants wore clothes with one color and one step up was a rent-paying farmer who wore two colors. Military officers wore three colors and their chiefs wore five colors. The highest members of society being the ollamhs and poets wore six colors in the clothes and seven colors in the clothes of kings and queens.

This system of royal authority was left to the family and tribe to be in charge of their own heraldry and royal rankings which would leave this legal loophole open to corruption and fraud. In researching the royal families of the world and priesthood over the last 2,500 years, I would say with confidence that this fraud has most likely happened quite often. Especially under the English Common Law System.

The Rev. Geoffrey Keating, in his “General History of Ireland,” explains that in the reign of Ollamh Fodhla, in a “great triennial assembly at Tara, it was ordained by a law that every nobleman and great officer should, by the learned heralds, have a particular coat-of-arms assigned to him according to his merit and his quality, whereby he should be distinguished from others of the same rank, and be known wherever he appeared.”

An ancient historical account of the battle of “Magh Rath,” that was compiled from ancient manuscripts of Finn Mac Gorman, Bishop of Kildare and later transcribed by John O’Donovan from the Book of Leinster shows us exactly the names, symbols, and colors of some of these families.

Finn Mac Gorman was Bishop of Kildare in the first half of the twelfth century and died in the year 1160. Here is Mac Gorman account of the various Tribal Banners which was published in 1842 by the Irish Archaeological Society (p. 227, see also p. 847):—

“Mightily advance the battalions of Congal

To us over the ford of Ornamh;

When they came to the contest of the men

They require not to be harangued.

The token of the great warrior of Macha—

Variegated satin on warlike poles;

The banner of each bright king with prosperity

Over his own head conspicuously displayed.

The banner of Scannlan—an ornament with prosperity,

And of Fiachna Mor, the son of Baedan,

Great symbol of plunder floating from its staff

Is over the head of Congal advancing towards us.

A yellow Lion on green satin,

The insignia of the Craebh Ruadh,

Such as the noble Conchobar bore,

Is now held up by Congal.

The standards of the sons of Eochaidh

In front of the embattled hosts,

Are dun-coloured standards like fire.

Over the well-shaped spear-handles of Crumthann.

The standard of the vigorous king of Britain,

Conan Rod, the royal soldier,

Streaked satin, blue and white,

In folds displayed.”

IRISH TYRE AND THE TRIBE OF DAN FROM IRELAND CONCLUSION

To some people of modernity, this history seems nothing but a mythological fairytale and or legend of days gone by. But to others like me, it is a beautiful homage to the true history of our people and the world in this 6th Age encoded into our Holy Scriptures, nation myths and the laws of our lands of which we are in the year 2019.

The facts of hiostory are well known that the Irish tradition tells us that they are a fighting race, and as it were, “mariners” (Ezek. xxvii. 8) or seafaring men. They have hung their shields on the walls of Tyre (Ezek. xxvii. 10), and being insular, they have been vindicated by true history and their character as the Warriors for God via the Tribe of Dan.

Let it be said that legend informs us that the Tribe of Dan had also brought with them the famous Stone of Destiny, and is also known as the Stone of Scone and The Coronation Stone (Liagh Fail) on which all succeeding kings of that race were crowned. It was used for centuries in the coronation of the monarchs of Scotland, and later the monarchs of England and the Kingdom of Great Britain.

Historically, the artifact was kept at the now-ruined Scone Abbey in Scone, near Perth, Scotland. It is also known as Jacob’s Pillow Stone and the Tanist Stone, and in Scottish Gaelic, clach-na-cinneamhain.

stone of destiny

Fergus the Great borrowed the Liagh Fail to be crowned on, after his invasion of North Britain; and, being deposited in the abbey of Scone, it continued there until the reign of Edward I., who had it conveyed to Westminster Abbey, where it is now placed beneath the inauguration chair, having its name changed for that of ‘Jacob’s stone.’

Its value appears to rest upon the destiny contained in a very ancient Scythian or Irish verse, the purport of which is, ‘that where the Stone of Destiny is preserved, there a prince of the Irish race should govern.’

gnosticwarrior.com/irish-tyre.html

Shot and edit with iPhone4s

This gleaming, 32-foot stainless steel sculpture rises high atop a reflecting pond at Fermilab, in Batavia Illinois. What makes this work of art so extraordinary for me, is in the story of it's inspirational creator, Robert H. Wilson.

Robert Wilson was not your ordinary, everyday nuclear physicist. No, Robert Wilson was a celebrated intellectual in the rarefied pantheon of sub-atomic scientists. Robert Wilson was one of the pioneers of the particle research world, and as such, was appointed as Fermilab's first director from 1967 to 1978 - a result of his prominence in the scientific community.

Why does this story bear mentioning? Because it was Robert Wilson who not only was a brilliant scientist, but who also possessed a burning desire for beauty and form; and yearning to unite his vision of grace and glory into simple structures. It was Wilson, as the director of this iconic national laboratory, who plied his pencil during lunch breaks and after work. He sketched and modeled and shared his vision. The fruit of his labor (his own labor) stands majestically atop the still reflecting pool -- he even taught himself how to weld by enlisting as an apprentice in one of the mechanical shops on campus.

I am so taken by this man's story because of the complexity of his character - the authenticity of his passion. Here is a man who had a brilliant intellect, and fitting career. But, that wasn't enough for Mr. Wilson. This man found a way to care for and cultivate more than one great passion in his life. He studied sculpture in Italy, and attended courses while in college. He held on to that love, and never let life's rigors eat away at that passion and promise.. he cultivated his love for beauty and made it his own.. on his own terms, and on his own time. Wilson also was creator of several other beautiful sculptures across the campus, including the iconic "Broken Symmetry" that arches over Pine Street at the west entrance of the campus.

Mr. Wilson died on January 16, 2000, and is buried in the small Pioneer Cemetery that lies on the northwest corner of Fermilab's 6,800-acre site.

history.fnal.gov/sculpture.html

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♫ ♪ ~~ Tune by Band Of Horses - “No One‘s Gonna Love You” ~~ ♪♫ (don’t worry mate…opens in new window…click it!)

Governing sense, mind and intellect, intent on liberation, free from desire, fear and anger, the sage is forever free.

Bhagavad Gita

View On Black

Parents are channeling their kids these days…I'm see a lot of bettering of the intellect…but I'm not seeing a lot of bettering of their spirituality.

How many can appreciate the repose of soul, resignation and silence of Jesus that is illustrated by the great Ariel Agemian above.

A ancient mob cries,

"If you release this man, you are no friend of Caesar; for everyone who makes himself a king sets himself against Caesar!"

That mob of 2,000 years ago takes many forms today.

Jesus, imprisoned then...and imprisoned now.

Silence, at so many levels, becomes the ultimate revolt against the vast climate of evil that surrounds us...and that Christian act of justified witholding disturbs the "peace" of the pagan.

The residents of the Secular City eventually come seeking affirmation from the City of God.

Of course, none is given.

At times, limited forms of affirmation may be given. For some of the actual good that is being done in that city.

But many times none is given. Just silence.

Ix-nays.

Now it should suprise no one that eventually that sort of milieu leads to reprisals against the City of God, by the secular crowd. Often violent.

Or in Canada...false Human Rights Tribunals that punish a person for publically living out his faith.

Whenever religion is supressed, like it is in North America, especially Christianity, look for the communist. Or the secular humanist. In a free society...they're always behind the scenes pushing their "neutral" atheistic agenda. And persecuting Christians along the way.

See folks, times haven't changed.

© Imitation of Christ, Thomas à Kempis, Confraternity of the Precious Blood

(Original artwork reworked, colourized, text and border added by me.)

One of the most significant attractions along the Tidal Basin actually drew scorn when it was first proposed on this site as it meant the removal of numerous cherry trees. This monument, further mocked via its nickname of “Jefferson’s muffin,” was dedicated to the third president of the United States who was also an avid architect, philosopher, inventor and intellect (speaking five languages)—Thomas Jefferson.

The Jefferson Memorial is a domed shape building that is actually based upon a structure of Jefferson’s own design. The architect, John Russell Pope, paid the ultimate tribute to Jefferson by integrating a similar rotunda in his design to the one Jefferson had created at the University of Virginia. The rotunda rests atop a rounded colonnade that features tall Ionic columns gracing its front façade. The building is largely constructed of white marble that was quarried from mines in Vermont along with Georgia granite, Tennessee marble and Indiana limestone.

Pope has designed a number of other buildings of note within Washington D.C., but less for a weak stomach, may have entered another field of study. Planning to attend John Hopkins University in Baltimore to study medicine, he decided he didn’t have the stomach for it after sitting in on a medical procedure. He shifted his focus to architecture where he would later get a degree from Columbia University in 1894. His other well recognized buildings in D.C. include the House of the Temple (1915), the National Archives Building (1935) and the West Building of the National Gallery of Art (1941).

Unfortunately Pope passed away in 1937, just two years prior to construction beginning on the Jefferson Memorial. Oversight would fall onto the shoulders of Daniel P. Higgins and Otto R. Eggers to ensure Pope’s design was faithfully implemented. The cornerstone for the building (an eleven-ton piece of Vermont marble) was laid on November 15, 1939 with a copy of some of Jefferson’s most famous writings including the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution. The monument was formally dedicated on April 13, 1943, Jefferson’s two-hundredth birthday. Leading the dedication was President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

One member, or element, that was missing at the dedication is the famous nineteen foot, five ton bronze statue that currently graces the interior of the monument. The statue by Rudolph Evans had not been fully completed and thus a plaster version (painted as if to look like bronze) had to be installed temporarily. The delay had been largely driven by a material shortage due to World War II.

Rudolph was awarded the commission for the statue of Thomas Jefferson in 1941. His design was selected out of one-hundred one entries. The final statue which Rudolph designed was cast in New York by the Roman Bronze Company and installed in 1947.

The statue features Jefferson standing stoically with a copy of the Declaration of Independence clutched within his left hand. The long jacket he appears to be wearing was supposedly a gift from his dear friend and fellow patriot Tadeusz Kosciuszko.

Surrounding Jefferson are five quotations from some of his most memorable writings. In 1972 a transcript error was noted by a professor from Northwestern University on a quotation taken from the Declaration of Independence. This quote located along the southwestern wall contains the word “inalienable” in lieu of “unalienable” as drafted on the Declaration of Independence.

Also worthy of note around the memorial is a marble pediment that resides just above the main entryway on the north side. The pediment is titled The Drafting of the Declaration of Independence and was sculpted by Adolph A. Weinman in 1943. Amongst the famous faces you will see include the likes of Mr. Jefferson along with Benjamin Franklin and John Adams.

For more history regarding this site, including how you can visit this locale via one of our MP3 audio walking tours, check out our site here: iwalkedaudiotours.com/2012/07/iwalked-washington-d-c-%E2%...

FORT MCCOY, Wis. –

“Money is my military, each dollar a soldier. I never send my money into battle unprepared and undefended.”

~ Kevin O’Leary

Although O’Leary—a Canadian author, entrepreneur and television personality—was referring to his half billion dollar fortune, his words expose the Achilles Heel of nearly every individual and organization on the planet: money.

The U.S. Army, in particular, aligns with O’Leary’s analogy. With billions of dollars dedicated to training, equipping and caring for more than a million men and women in uniform, the Army seeks competent Soldiers who can conduct its countless and complex financial transactions. Those Soldiers are often assigned to sections and even platoon-sized elements dedicated to the understanding of all things pecuniary. Compartmentalizing financial intellect offers the Army the distinct advantage of enhancing readiness through realistic training in the art of money management.

Diamond Saber is an annual training exercise devoted to teaching, mentoring and certifying Soldiers operating within the Army’s intricate financial system. Conducted in Ft. McCoy, Wis., from Aug. 14-24, 2017, the exercise drew more than 650 Soldiers from the Army’s active, Reserve and National Guard components.

“Diamond Saber prepares units to deploy overseas by exposing Soldiers to financial activities found in theater,” said U.S. Army Col. Gregory T. Hinton, commander, 336th Financial Management Support Center. “The exercise combines classroom instruction with realistic training scenarios that cover a wide variety of tasks, missions and systems.”

These financial functions range from cashing checks and exchanging funds to resolving military pay issues and documenting captured currency. Based out of Lake Charles, La., the 336th FMSC demonstrated their expertise on these and other monetary subjects by developing policies, answering questions and providing technical support for Soldiers engaged in classrooms and simulations.

“We’re the financial advisors for this exercise,” said Hilton, a native of Fairmont, W. Va. “Our role here is very similar to what we do downrange.”

While the 336th FMSC supported the operational aspects of Diamond Saber, four Soldiers from the 143d Sustainment Command (Expeditionary), a 10,000 Soldier command headquartered in Orlando, Fla., immersed themselves in the exercise’s tactical side. Their participation marked a major milestone in the exercise’s 12-year history.

“This is the first time Diamond Saber has integrated Soldiers operating at the G8 (general officer, finance) level,” said U.S. Army Capt. Steven Andrews, comptroller, 143d ESC. “Prior to the exercise, our section attended several planning sessions to help ensure Diamond Saber’s curriculum was applicable to G8 level tasks.”

These planning sessions resulted in Andrews and his fellow 143d ESC Soldiers studying in a small classroom separated from the larger lecture halls housing hundreds of Soldiers at Ft. McCoy’s Financial Management Warrior Training Center.

“The specialized class size allowed our instructors to focus on G8 related functions such as vendor contracts, purchase orders and lines of accounting,” said Andrews, a Philadelphia, Pa., native. “The coursework also taught us how to provide better guidance and improved service to our downtrace units.”

The lectures and simulations also exposed Andrews and his team to the Army’s General Fund Enterprise Business System, a financial asset and financial accounting management web application.

“GFEBS is a powerful tool,” said U.S. Army Sgt. Victor T. Rosario, budget analyst, 143d ESC. “Its numerous features make it a bit overwhelming at first, but the daily practice, thorough instruction and graded tests should give us a firm foundation for our eventual mastery of this complex program.”

“Most Reserve Soldiers have little exposure to GFEBS prior to coming to Diamond Saber,” added Andrews. “As long as we continually take advantage of opportunities to maximize our exposure to GFEBS, then we will be successful in our mission.”

While most of the 143d ESC’s counterparts live and study in the relative comfort, the 143d ESC Soldiers must retain vast stockpiles of information while working in field conditions.

“Most of the 143d ESC is engaged in a CSTX (Combat Sustainment Support Exercise),” explained Rosario, a native of St. Cloud, Fla. “Since CSTX emulates a deployed environment, we must sleep in tents and walk through rugged terrain with our weapons and field gear during our daily commutes to and from the classroom.”

For Rosario, the long days are worth the effort as Diamond Saber also provides opportunities to complete online certifications.

“NCOs (Noncommissioned Officers) in my field must complete a series of online classes before we can attend our respective NCOES (Noncommissioned Officer Education System) courses,” said Rosario. “Completing these courses is essential to promotion and career progression. I am grateful Diamond Saber’s administrators afforded us the time to earn a few certifications.”

While Diamond Saber lacks the mass maneuvers and cinematic firefights found in front line field exercises, its presence signifies the Army’s understanding that ample funding and effective fighting are equally important in winning wars.

“Soldiers must be physically, mentally and financially ready to deploy,” said Hinton, who, when not wearing the uniform, serves as the command executive officer for the 79th Theater Support Command headquartered in Los Alamitos, Calif. “If the Army Reserve expects its Soldiers to deploy anywhere in the world in less than 30 days, then our financial units and sections must be masters of our craft. Diamond Saber helps ensure our Soldiers fight and win without the crippling effects of disputed contracts, misappropriated funds and unresolved pay issues.”

Story and Photos by Sgt. John L. Carkeet IV, 143d ESC

"...the intellect unfolds its principle powers in dissimulation....This art of dissimulation reaches its peak in man.Deception, flattering,lying,deluding,talking behind the back, putting up a false front,living in borrowed splendor,wearing a mask,hiding behind convention,playing a role for others and for oneself-in short, a continous fluttering among the solitary flame of vanity-is so much the rule and the law among men that there is almost nothing which is less comprehensible than how an honest and pure drive for truth could have arisen among them."

Friedrich Nietzsche-"On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense"

It seems to me that as soon as we immerse into life, or better to say as soon as we gain awareness of the existence of a metaphysical,intangible world, we learn there is no "happily ever after" and I wonder is it our endless vanity or the genuine discontent with the world we belong to ?

Perhaps neither of them ,as nothing seems to be good enough for us , enough fulfilling , satisfying once we build incommensurably high ideals ahead of us.

Should it be as iwasfixin2 said,the drive for the pure truth , for the orthe doxes has arisen on one hand as a means of defense against the threatening lies and boycotts , whilst on the other by seeking to fight back using the very same weapons : the art of dissimulation ( in the picture symbolised by the mask)-which is partly due to out great impossibility to communicate exhaustively-and its most important consequence, the act of manipulating ,the desperate try of extending our influence upon the others, nearly insanely brainwashing them (the apple).

You may not need either awareness or intellect for all that ,though,because this is precisely what defines us best, a matter of existence, a principle of self-conservation.

First published in the U.K in 1935, "Odd John" by philosopher and author Olaf Stapledon has been reprinted many times and is a highly regarded science fiction novel. It introduced the concept of “Homo superior,” a term that has since become a staple in science fiction. The story explores themes of evolution, intelligence, and morality, presenting John Wainwright as a superhuman whose advanced intellect and abilities set him apart from ordinary humans.

At the time of its publication in 1935, the idea of a superior human species was not new. However, Stapledon’s approach was unique in its philosophical depth and its exploration of the ethical implications of such a being’s existence.

John Wainwright is a fascinating and complex character. While his intelligence is extraordinary, his personality is far from conventional. He is often described as vain, amoral, and highly manipulative. His advanced intellect makes him feel detached from ordinary humans, and he does not adhere to conventional morality. Instead, he follows a personal code that is beyond human understanding.

John is also skilled in the art of seduction and manipulation, effortlessly influencing those around him. He views Homo sapiens as inferior, which leads him to act in ways that might seem cold or even ruthless. His relationships with others are often transactional—he uses people for his own purposes rather than forming deep emotional bonds.

Despite these traits, John is not entirely unlikable. His charisma and brilliance make him compelling, and his philosophical musings add depth to his character. However, his detachment and superiority complex prevent him from being truly relatable or sympathetic in a traditional sense. He is neither a traditional hero nor a villain. His character challenges readers to reconsider what it means to be "superior" and whether such beings can truly coexist with humanity.

[Sources: Wikipedia, ScienceFictionClassics.com, and WriteUps.org]

[Note: Modern depictions of superhuman intelligence have evolved significantly since “Odd John.” Today, the concept is often explored through artificial intelligence rather than biological evolution. AI surpassing human intelligence raises ethical and existential questions like those in Stapledon’s novel.]

Photographer: Valery Latypov www.valerylatypov.com/

VYACHESLAV USHENIN / CEO of the IT company Global Intellect Service

CEO of the IT company Global Intellect Service (GIS). GIS develops the UDS Game — complex business solutions aimed at mobile apps and innovative instruments for the client’s loyalty management. Today more than 30000 businessmen and more than 3000000 users from 46 countries from all over the world are listed in UDS Game.

OST- E-Town Concrete ,First Born-

am I wrong because I made dumb mistakes?

how could I let them take your breath away?

would your face look just like my face?

now you're gone. erased.

one more sleepless night. intellect vs. emotion.

my heart points in one direction but my mind still chose another.

be strong. be strong for the life that's lost. be strong for the others.

be strong for the life that's lost because here will be no other.

I wonder who you could have been. eraser....erased.

no more sleepless nights. the darkness opens my eyes to the light.

don't waste your time w/ mixed emotions... stick w/ your decision.

I'm strong. I'm strong for the life that's lost. I'm strong for the others.

I'm strong for the life that's lost because there will be no other.

Picture a little seed looking just like me, growing up in straight up

poverty. cope w/o necessities. eventually resenting me for the way

that things turned out to be. hell no, that shouldn't be. ya'll niggas don't

know me, ain't shit that ya'll could show me. word is bond I done been

through it all before. see, throughout my 18 years I have seen things

most of ya'll wouldn't even dream, never mind believe. so don't come

to me withyour speeches on how things could be, because

I've already seen it. believe that.

NOVEMBER "Niah Diamond Choker"

FABRIXQUARE "Justice Braids"

VERSOV "HABLOV_EYEWEAR"

GRAILED "Abzorb Trainers"

MAJESTY "Slouchy Socks"

FLAUNT "Ani Rings"

MEMOIRE "Var Bag Frais"

VEX "Ava Baggy Shirt yellow"

VEX "Lia Baggy Joggers"

For nearly 50 years, biophysicist and inventor Mária Telkes applied her prodigious intellect to

harnessing the sun’s power. She designed and built the first successfully solar-powered house

in 1949 but was perplexed by the knotty scientific challenge of developing a reliable and

economical way to store captured solar energy. She was also beset by rampant sexism and

fought pitched battles with her boss and colleagues — all men — at MIT’s Solar Energy Fund.

Despite these obstacles, Telkes persevered, helping to build another experimental solar-

powered house in 1971. Upon her death in 1995, she held more than 20 patents.

All photos in this set should be credited to Rahoul Ghose/PBS

Celastraceae (staff vine or bittersweet family) » Celastrus paniculatus

see-LAS-trus -- from the ancient Greek kelastros, the name of another tree

pan-ick-yoo-LAY-tus or pan-ick-yoo-LAH-tus -- referring to the flower clusters (panicles)

commonly known as: black-oil plant, celastrus, oriental bittersweet, intellect tree, staff tree • Bengali: kijri, malkangani • Gujarati: માલકંગના malkangana • Hindi: मालकंगनी malkangani • Kannada: ಭವಮ್ಗ bhavamga, ಜೊತಿಷ್ಮತಿ jotishmati, ಕರಿಗನ್ನೇ kariganne, ಕೊಉಗಿಲು kougilu • Konkani: माळकांगोणी malkangoni • Marathi: कांगुणी kanguni, माळकांगोणी malkangoni • Oriya: korsana, pengu • Sanskrit: अलवण alavan, ज्योतिषमति jyotishmati, कन्गु kangu • Tamil: குவரிகுண்டல் kuvarikuntal, மண்ணைக்கட்டி mannai-k-katti, வாலுளுவை valuluvai • Telugu: కాసరతీగె kasara-tige, మానెరు maneru • Urdu: کنگني مال malkanguni

Native to: India, China, Sri Lanka, south-east Asia

References: Flowers of India • Sahyadri Database • ENVIS - FRLHT • eFlora

youtu.be/KcPcJ9ycEu4?t=2m22s Full Feature

Curse of the Demon / Night of the Demon

Columbia TriStar Home Entertainment

1957/58 / B&W / 1:78 anamorphic 16:9 / 82, 95 min. / Street Date August 13, 2002 / $24.95

Starring Dana Andrews, Peggy Cummins, Niall MacGinnis, Maurice Denham, Athene Seyler

Cinematography Ted Scaife

Production Designer Ken Adam

Special Effects George Blackwell, S.D. Onions, Wally Veevers

Film Editor Michael Gordon

Original Music Clifton Parker

Written by Charles Bennett and Hal E. Chester from the story Casting the Runes by Montague R. James

Produced by Frank Bevis, Hal E. Chester

Directed by Jacques Tourneur

Reviewed by Glenn Erickson

Savant champions a lot of genre movies but only infrequently does one appear like Jacques Tourneur's superlative Curse of the Demon. It's simply better than the rest -- an intelligent horror film with some very good scares. It occupies a stylistic space that sums up what's best in ghost stories and can hold its own with most any supernatural film ever made. Oh, it's also a great entertainment that never fails to put audiences at the edge of their seats.

What's more, Columbia TriStar has shown uncommon respect for their genre output by including both versions of Curse of the Demon on one disc. Savant has full coverage on the versions and their restoration below, following his thorough and analytical (read: long-winded and anal) coverage of the film itself.

Synopsis:

Dr. John Holden (Dana Andrews), a scientist and professional debunker of superstitious charlatans, arrives in England to help Professor Henry Harrington (Maurice Denham) assault the phony cult surrounding Dr. Julian Karswell (Niall McGinnis). But Harrington has mysteriously died and Holden becomes involved with his niece Joanna (Peggy Cummins), who thinks Karswell had something to do with it. Karswell's 'tricks' confuse the skeptical Holden, but he stubbornly holds on to his conviction that he's " ... not a sucker, like 90% of the human race." That is, until the evidence mounts that Harrington was indeed killed by a demon summoned from Hell, and that Holden is the next intended victim!

The majority of horror films are fantasies in which we accept supernatural ghosts, demons and monsters as part of a deal we've made with the authors: they dress the fantasy in an attractive guise and arrange the variables into an interesting pattern, and we agree to play along for the sake of enjoyment. When it works the movies can resonate with personal meaning. Even though Dracula and Frankenstein are unreal, they are relevant because they're aligned with ideas and themes in our subconscious.

Horror films that seriously confront the no-man's land between rational reality and supernatural belief have a tough time of it. Everyone who believes in God knows that the tug o' war between rationality and faith in our culture has become so clogged with insane belief systems it's considered impolite to dismiss people who believe in flying saucers or the powers of crystals or little glass pyramids. One of Dana Andrews' key lines in Curse of the Demon, defending his dogged skepticism against those urging him to have an open mind, is his retort, "If the world is a dark place ruled by Devils and Demons, we all might as well give up right now." Curse of the Demon balances itself between skepticism and belief with polite English manners, letting us have our fun as it lays its trap. We watch Andrews roll his eyes and scoff at the feeble séance hucksters and the dire warnings of a foolish-looking necromancer. Meanwhile, a whole dark world of horror sneaks up on him. The film's intelligent is such that we're not offended by its advocacy of dark forces or even its literal, in-your-face demon.

The remarkable Curse of the Demon was made in England for Columbia but is gloriously unaffected by that company's zero-zero track record with horror films. Producer Hal E. Chester would seem an odd choice to make a horror classic after producing Joe Palooka films and acting as a criminal punk in dozens of teen crime movies. The obvious strong cards are writer Charles Bennett, the brains behind several classic English Hitchcock pictures (who 'retired' into meaningless bliss writing for schlockmeister Irwin Allen) and Jacques Tourneur, a master stylist who put Val Lewton on the map with Cat People and I Walked With a Zombie. Tourneur made interesting Westerns (Canyon Passage, Great Day in the Morning) and perhaps the most romantic film noir, Out of the Past. By the late '50s he was on what Andrew Sarris in his American Film called 'a commercial downgrade'. The critic lumped Curse of the Demon with low budget American turkeys like The Fearmakers. 1

Put Tourneur with an intelligent script, a decent cameraman and more than a minimal budget and great things could happen. We're used to watching Corman Poe films, English Hammer films and Italian Bavas and Fredas, all the while making excuses for the shortcomings that keep them in the genre ghetto (where they all do quite well, thank you). There's even a veiled resentment against upscale shockers like The Innocents that have resources (money, time, great actors) denied our favorite toilers in the genre realm. Curse of the Demon is above all those considerations. It has name actors past their prime and reasonable production values. Its own studio (at least in America) released it like a genre quickie, double-billed with dreck like The Night the World Exploded and The Giant Claw. They cut it by 13 minutes, changed its title (to ape The Curse of Frankenstein?) and released a poster featuring a huge, slavering demon monster that some believe was originally meant to be barely glimpsed in the film itself. 2

Horror movies can work on more than one level but Curse of the Demon handles several levels and then some. The narrative sets up John Holden as a professional skeptic who raises a smirking eyebrow to the open minds of his colleagues. Unlike most second-banana scientists in horror films, they express divergent points of view. Holden just sees himself as having common sense but his peers are impressed by the consistency of demonological beliefs through history. Maybe they all saw Christensen's Witchcraft through the Ages, which might have served as a primer for author Charles Bennett. Smart dialogue allows Holden to score points by scoffing at the then-current "regression to past lives" scam popularized by the Bridey Murphy craze. 3 While Holden stays firmly rooted to his position, coining smart phrases and sarcastic put-downs of believers, the other scientists are at least willing to consider alternate possibilities. Indian colleague K.T. Kumar (Peter Elliott) keeps his opinion to himself. But when asked, he politely states that he believes entirely in the world of demons! 4

Holden may think he has the truth by the tail but it takes Kindergarten teacher Joanna Harrington (Peggy Cummins of Gun Crazy fame) to show him that being a skeptic doesn't mean ignoring facts in front of one's face. Always ready for a drink (a detail added to tailor the part to Andrews?), Holden spends the first couple of reels as interested in pursuing Miss Harrington, as he is the devil-worshippers. The details and coincidences pile up with alarming speed -- the disappearing ink untraceable by the lab, the visual distortions that might be induced by hypnosis, the pages torn from his date book and the parchment of runic symbols. Holden believes them to be props in a conspiracy to draw him into a vortex of doubt and fear. Is he being set up the way a Voodoo master cons his victim, by being told he will die, with fabricated clues to make it all appear real? Holden even gets a bar of sinister music stuck in his head. It's the title theme -- is this a wicked joke on movie soundtracks?

Speak of the Devil...

This brings us to the wonderful character of Julian Karswell, the kiddie-clown turned multi-millionaire cult leader. The man who launched Alfred Hitchcock as a maker of sophisticated thrillers here creates one of the most interesting villains ever written, one surely as good as any of Hitchcock's. In the short American cut Karswell is a shrewd games-player who shows Holden too many of his cards and finally outsmarts himself. The longer UK cut retains the full depth of his character.

Karswell has tapped into the secrets of demonology to gain riches and power, yet he tragically recognizes that he is as vulnerable to the forces of Hell as are the cowering minions he controls through fear. Karswell's coven means business. It's an entirely different conception from the aesthetic salon coffee klatch of The Seventh Victim, where nothing really supernatural happens and the only menace comes from a secret society committing new crimes to hide old ones.

Karswell keeps his vast following living in fear, and supporting his extravagant lifestyle under the idea that Evil is Good, and Good Evil. At first the Hobart Farm seems to harbor religious Christian fundamentalists who have turned their backs on their son. Then we find out that they're Karswell followers, living blighted lives on cursed acreage and bled dry by their cultist "leader." Karswell's mum (Athene Seyler) is an inversion of the usual insane Hitchcock mother. She lovingly resists her son's philosophy and actively tries to help the heroes. That's in the Night version, of course. In the shorter American cut she only makes silly attempts to interest Joanna in her available son and arranges for a séance. Concerned by his "negativity", Mother confronts Julian on the stairs. He has no friends, no wife, no family. He may be a mass extortionist but he's still her baby. Karswell explains that by exploiting his occult knowledge, he's immersed himself forever in Evil. "You get nothing for nothing"

Karswell is like the Devil on Earth, a force with very limited powers that he can't always control. By definition he cannot trust any of his own minions. They're unreliable, weak and prone to double-cross each other, and they attract publicity that makes a secret society difficult to conceal. He can't just kill Holden, as he hasn't a single henchman on the payroll. He instead summons the demon, a magic trick he's only recently mastered. When Karswell turns Harrington away in the first scene we can sense his loneliness. The only person who can possibly understand is right before him, finally willing to admit his power and perhaps even tolerate him. Karswell has no choice but to surrender Harrington over to the un-recallable Demon. In his dealings with the cult-debunker Holden, Karswell defends his turf but is also attempting to justify himself to a peer, another man who might be a potential equal. It's more than a duel of egos between a James Bond and a Goldfinger, with arrogance and aggression masking a mutual respect; Karswell knows he's taken Lewton's "wrong turning in life," and will have to pay for it eventually.

Karswell eventually earns Holden's respect, especially after the fearful testimony of Rand Hobart. It's taken an extreme demonstration to do it, but Holden budges from his smug position. He may not buy all of the demonology hocus-pocus but it's plain enough that Karswell or his "demon" is going to somehow rub him out. Seeking to sneak the parchment back into Karswell's possession, Holden becomes a worthy hero because he's found the maturity to question his own preconceptions. Armed with his rational, cool head, he's a force that makes Karswell -- without his demon, of course -- a relative weakling. Curse of the Demon ends in a classic ghost story twist, with just desserts dished out and balance recovered. The good characters are less sure of their world than when they started, but they're still able to cope. Evil has been defeated not by love or faith, but by intellect.

Curse of the Demon has the Val Lewton sensibility as has often been cited in Tourneur's frequent (and very effective) use of the device called the Lewton "Bus" -- a wholly artificial jolt of fast motion and noise interrupting a tense scene. There's an ultimate "bus" at the end when a train blasts in and sets us up for the end title. It "erases" the embracing actors behind it and I've always thought it had to be an inspiration for the last shot of North by NorthWest. The ever-playful Hitchcock was reportedly a big viewer of fantastic films, from which he seems to have gotten many ideas. He's said to have dined with Lewton on more than one occasion (makes sense, they were at one time both Selznick contractees) and carried on a covert competition with William Castle, of all people.

Visually, Tourneur's film is marvelous, effortlessly conjuring menacing forests lit in the fantastic Mario Bava mode by Ted Scaife, who was not known as a genre stylist. There are more than a few perfunctory sets, with some unflattering mattes used for airport interiors, etc.. Elsewhere we see beautiful designs by Ken Adam in one of his earliest outings. Karswell's ornate floor and central staircase evoke an Escher print, especially when visible/invisible hands appear on the banister. A hypnotic, maze-like set for a hotel corridor is also tainted by Escher and evokes a sense of the uncanny even better than the horrid sounds Holden hears. The build-up of terror is so effective that one rather unconvincing episode (a fight with a Cat People - like transforming cat) does no harm. Other effects, such as the demon footprints appearing in the forest, work beautifully.

In his Encyclopedia of Horror Movies Phil Hardy very rightly relates Curse of the Demon's emphasis on the visual to the then just-beginning Euro-horror subgenre. The works of Bava, Margheriti and Freda would make the photographic texture of the screen the prime element of their films, sometimes above acting and story logic.

Columbia TriStar's DVD of Curse of the Demon / Night of the Demon presents both versions of this classic in one package. American viewers saw an effective but abbreviated cut-down. If you've seen Curse of the Demon on cable TV or rented a VHS or a laser anytime after 1987, you're not going to see anything different in the film. In 1987 Columbia happened to pull out the English cut when it went to re-master. When the title came up as Night of the Demon, they just slugged in the Curse main title card and let it go.

From such a happy accident (believe me, nobody in charge at Columbia at the time would have purposely given a film like this a second glance) came a restoration at least as wonderful as the earlier reversion of The Fearless Vampire Killers to its original form. Genre fans were taken by surprise and the Laserdisc became a hot item that often traded for hundreds of dollars. 6

Back in film school Savant had been convinced that ever seeing the long, original Night cut was a lost cause. An excellent article in the old Photon magazine in the early '70s 5, before such analytical work was common, accurately laid out the differences between the two versions, something Savant needs to do sometime with The Damned and These Are the Damned. The Photon article very accurately describes the cut scenes and what the film lost without them, and certainly inspired many of the ideas here.

Being able to see the two versions back-to-back shows exactly how they differ. Curse omits some scenes and rearranges others. Gone is some narration from the title sequence, most of the airplane ride, some dialogue on the ground with the newsmen and several scenes with Karswell talking to his mother. Most crucially missing are Karswell's mother showing Joanna the cabalistic book everyone talks so much about and Holden's entire visit to the Hobart farm to secure a release for his examination of Rand Hobart. Of course the cut film still works (we loved the cut Curse at UCLA screenings and there are people who actually think it's better) but it's nowhere near as involving as the complete UK version. Curse also reshuffles some events, moving Holden's phantom encounter in the hallway nearer the beginning, which may have been to get a spooky scene in the middle section or to better disguise the loss of whole scenes later. The chop-job should have been obvious. The newly imposed fades and dissolves look awkward. One cut very sloppily happens right in the middle of a previous dissolve.

Night places both Andrews and Cummins' credits above the title and gives McGinnis an "also starring" credit immediately afterwards. Oddly, Curse sticks Cummins afterwards and relegates McGinnis to the top of the "also with" cast list. Maybe with his role chopped down, some Columbia executive thought he didn't deserve the billing?

Technically, both versions look just fine, very sharp and free of digital funk that would spoil the film's spooky visual texture. Night of the Demon is the version to watch for both content and quality. It's not perfect but has better contrast and less dirt than the American version. Curse has more emulsion scratches and flecking white dandruff in its dark scenes, yet looks fine until one sees the improvement of Night. Both shows are widescreen enhanced (hosanna), framing the action at its original tighter aspect ratio.

It's terrific that Columbia TriStar has brought out this film so thoughtfully, even though some viewers are going to be confused when their "double feature" disc appears to be two copies of the same movie. Let 'em stew. This is Savant's favorite release so far this year.

On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor, Curse of the Demon / Night of the Demon rates:

Movie: Excellent

Footnotes:

Made very close to Curse of the Demon and starring Dana Andrews, The Fearmakers (great title) was a Savant must-see until he caught up with it in the UA collection at MGM. It's a pitiful no-budgeter that claims Madison Avenue was providing public relations for foreign subversives, and is negligible even in the lists of '50s anti-Commie films.

Return

Curse of the Demon's Demon has been the subject of debate ever since the heyday of Famous Monsters of Filmland. From what's on record it's clear that producer Chester added or maximized the shots of the creature, a literal visualization of a fiery, brimstone-smoking classical woodcut demon that some viewers think looks ridiculous. Bennett and Tourneur's original idea was to never show a demon but the producer changed that. Tourneur probably directed most of the shots, only to have Chester over-use them. To Savant's thinking, the demon looks great. It is first perceived as an ominous sound, a less strident version of the disturbing noise made by Them! Then it manifests itself visually as a strange disturbance in the sky (bubbles? sparks? early slit-scan?) followed by a billowing cloud of sulphurous smoke (a dandy effect not exploited again until Close Encounters of the Third Kind). The long-shot demon is sometimes called the bicycle demon because he's a rod puppet with legs that move on a wheel-rig. Smoke belches from all over his scaly body. Close-ups are provided by a wonderfully sculpted head 'n' shoulders demon with articulated eyes and lips, a full decade or so before Carlo Rambaldi started engineering such devices.

Most of the debate centers on how much Demon should have been shown with the general consensus that less would have been better. People who dote on Lewton-esque ambivalence say that the film's slow buildup of rationality-versus demonology is destroyed by the very real Demon's appearance in the first scene, and that's where they'd like it removed or radically reduced. The Demon is so nicely integrated into the cutting (the giant foot in the first scene is a real jolt) that it's likely that Tourneur himself filmed it all, perhaps expecting the shots to be shorter or more obscured. It is also possible that the giant head was a post-Tourneur addition - it doesn't tie in with the other shots as well (especially when it rolls forward rather stiffly) and is rather blunt. Detractors lump it in with the gawd-awful head of The Black Scorpion, which is filmed the same way and almost certainly was an afterthought - and also became a key poster image. This demon head matches the surrounding action a lot better than did the drooling Scorpion.

Savant wouldn't change Curse of the Demon but if you put a gun to my head I'd shorten most of the shots in its first appearance, perhaps eliminating all close-ups except for the final, superb shot of the the giant claw reaching for Harrington / us.

Kumar, played (I assume) by an Anglo actor, immediately evokes all those Indian and other Third World characters in Hammer films whose indigenous cultures invariably hold all manner of black magic and insidious horror. When Hammer films are repetitious it's because they take eighty minutes or so to convince the imagination-challenged English heroes to even consider the premise of the film as being real. In Curse of the Demon, Holden's smart-tongued dismissal of outside viewpoints seems much more pigheaded now than it did in 1957, when heroes confidently defended conformist values without being challenged. Kumar is a scientist but also probably a Hindu or a Sikh. He has no difficulty reconciling his faith with his scientific detachment. Holden is far too tactful to call Kumar a crazy third-world guru but that's probably what he's thinking. He instead politely ignores him. Good old Kumar then saves Holden's hide with some timely information. I hope Holden remembered to thank him.

There's an unstated conclusion in Curse of the Demon: Holden's rigid disbelief of the supernatural means he also does not believe in a Christian God with its fundamentally spiritual faith system of Good and Evil, saints and devils, angels and demons. Horror movies that deal directly with religious symbolism and "real faith" can be hypocritical in their exploitation and brutal in their cheap toying with what are for many people sacred personal concepts. I'm thinking of course of The Exorcist here. That movie has all the grace of a reporter who shows a serial killer's atrocity photos to a mother whose child has just been kidnapped. Curse of the Demon hasn't The Exorcist's ruthless commercial instincts but instead has the modesty not to pretend to be profound, or even "real." Yet it expresses our basic human conflict between rationality and faith very nicely.

Savant called Jim Wyrnoski, who was associated with Photon, in an effort to find out more about the article, namely who wrote it. It was very well done and I've never forgotten it; I unfortunately loaned my copy out to good old Jim Ursini and it disappeared. Obviously, a lot of the ideas here, I first read there. Perhaps a reader who knows better how to take care of their belongings can help me with the info? Ursini and Alain Silvers' More Things than are Dreamt Of Limelight, 1994, analyzes Curse of the Demon (and many other horror movies) in the context of its source story.

This is a true story: Cut to 2000. Columbia goes to re-master Curse of the Demon and finds that the fine-grain original of the English version is missing. The original long version of the movie may be lost forever. A few months later a collector appears who says he bought it from another unnamed collector and offers to trade it for a print copy of the American version, which he prefers. Luckily, an intermediary helps the collector follow up on his offer and the authorities are not contacted about what some would certainly call stolen property. The long version is now once again safe. Studios clearly need to defend their property but many collectors have "items" they personally have acquired legally. More often than you might think, such finds come about because studios throw away important elements. If the studios threaten prosecution, they will find that collectors will never approach them. They'd probably prefer to destroy irreplaceable film to avoid being criminalized.

I've always had a thing for glasses - even though my sight is actually fine - so I thought I would try out a cute librarian meets flamenco dancer look, matching the glasses and hair with my baby blue Dotti party dress that swayed around my hips and barely covered my bum as I had a dance in the living room!

Thomas Henry Dawson Walker was born on 21st. July 1851 at the March of Intellect pub in Hull, East Riding of Yorkshire. His mother was the pub landlady and his father was an advance foreman for Cook’s Circus.

Thomas started his performing career at an early age and by the time he was eight years old he was already performing with Pablo Fanque’s Circus. He would become a multitalented performer, trained in equestrianism, tumbling, ropewalking and clowning, but became most famous for his clowning and as a pantomime actor. His slapstick humour was very popular, particularly with children.

In 1874, he was engaged by Charles Hengler to appear at his circus in London, where he was christened 'Whimsical Walker'.

Over the course of his career, Whimsical became one of the most famous clowns of his time both in the UK and internationally. He travelled around the world three times and visited America 16 times, firstly in 1874 when he joined the John Murray Railroad Circus. He later he toured with Barnum and Bailey’s Circus, and in 1887, while with Barnum’s, he purchased an elephant for £2,000 from the London Zoo, which became known as Jumbo.

The elephants fee was more than paid back in just a few performances.

In 1882, Whimsical opened a theatre of his own, the Metropolitan Alcazar Theatre in New York, and put on a profitable pantomime presentation of W.S. Gilbert’s The Three Wishes, becoming the only person to put on a successful English pantomime in America during this period. But misfortune struck when the defective top gallery dropped slightly when filled with people and a stampede followed. Actions for damages caused bankruptcy, reducing Whimsical to the clothes he wore and a few dollars. He had to borrow money to return to Liverpool, where he was engaged by Hengler’s Circus.

In 1886, Whimsical was commanded to appear at the first Royal Command Performance, staged before Queen Victoria in the riding school at Windsor Castle. After the show Victoria presented him with a diamond tie pin. .

He performed by Royal command on several occasions during his career, his last performance before royalty was for the first visit to a circus of Princess Elizabeth in 1934.

King Edward, then the Prince of Wales, once called upon Whimsical to organise a cricket match with children in which the Prince and Dr. W. G. Grace both played.

Walker has been described as the most versatile clown of his day. He had a great talent for training animals, among them a donkey, which once escaped from a circus procession in Hull and walked into a hotel bedroom and lay down on a bed, thoroughly scaring a chambermaid. In 1880 he performed his singing donkey act before Queen Victoria at Windsor.

One of the animals which he loved most was his dog, Whimmy, who performed with him at Olympia.

From 1898 to 1929 Whimsical appeared as the Harlequinade Clown in the Forty Thieves pantomime at the Theatre Royal in London, and from 1921 until his death he performed every year in the Olympia Christmas Circus in London. He also stared in the silent films The Knut and the Kernel (1915), The Starting Point (1919), and The Fordington Twins (1920). Such was his enthusiasm for his job that he once travelled by sea to Sydney, Australia and back, in order to be the clown for five nights and two matinees.

In 1910, Whimsical married his wife, whom he had met when they were both appearing in a comic sketch in Southend. After their wedding they lived in Gorleston-on-Sea, Norfolk, and Whimsical took over the site of Peggotty’s Hut on Brush Quay and expanded it into a rifle range. Little is known of his life between 1910 and 1934. In the early 1930’s he moved from Brush Wharf in Gorleston to a new council house at 42 Suffolk Road, in the area of Southtown. His spare time was devoted to shrimping and it was reported that he kept a number of cats for company. Two years before his death he underwent a serious operation on his throat.

A few days after he was planning to appear once again at the Olympia Christmas Circus, Whimsical Walker died on 10th. November 1934, aged 83, and was buried in an unmarked grave in the Gorleston Old Cemetery.

On Tuesday 10th. May 2022, the Gorleston-on-Sea Heritage Group (GOSH) unveiling a blue plaque to mark the gravesite. Philip Breen, known as 'Whimmie The Clown, who is Whimsical Walker’s great grandson, attended wearing his clown makeup and costume.

Whimsical, who was very proud of having had his portrait painted by Dame Laura Knight and which was hung in the Royal Academy, said,

"The finest thing in the world for any young boy is the circus business, you get fresh air, you get up early in the morning, you get plenty of exercise, and it teaches you what the world is".

Where the morality is too strong

the intellect perishes

F.Nietzsche

In Memory of

Ferdinand Rudolph Hassler

Born at Aarau in the Canton of Argovie, Switzlerland

Oct 6, 1770

Having filled with honor both in his native and adopted country

offices of high trust and responsibility,

Died in Philadelphia

Nov, 20, 1843

In the most of his labors as Superintendent of

The United States Coast Survey

and

Standards of Weights and Measures

both great national work from their origin entrusted to

and conducted by him with distinguished reputation and success.

Strict integrity and love of truth with strength

and activity of intellect, characterized him as a man

whilst his various scientific writing as well as

the national works projected by him are alike

memorial of his laborious life and of his contribution

as a man of scientific instruction and improvement

of his fellow men.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The first superintendent of the United States Coast Survey, Ferdinand Rudolph Hassler was a Swiss-born and educated mathematician who came to the United States in 1805. His contributions to the Lewis and Clark expedition involved corrections and alterations to the maps and calculations of longitude and latitude made by the Captains. He was born in Aarau, Switzerland, 6 October 1770, and was educated in nearby Bern. He attended the University of Bern intending to study jurisprudence, but met Johann George Tralles, a German mathematician, who inspired Hassler to study science and mathematics.

In 1793, Hassler traveled to Paris to study astronomy under some of the foremost scientists in Europe at the time. He returned to Switzerland five years later, when the French invaded his country. He held several public offices during the French occupation, including the attorney general for Switzerland. However, in 1803, the French took control of geographically related surveys, and Hassler decided that he could not work under them. He and his family emigrated to the United States in 1805, settling in New York.

In 1807, President Thomas Jefferson appointed Hassler professorial position at the United States Military Academy at West Point on a recommendation from the Secretary of the Treasury, Albert Gallatin. Hassler taught mathematics, but apparently did not develop a good rapport with his students. He only taught the brightest students, and did not spend time with those who had less aptitude for math. In 1809, the Secretary of War William Eustis told Hassler that the government did not approve of civilians teaching at the Military Academy. Hassler resigned his position on 14 February 1810. He took another position as a Professor of Natural Philosophy and Mathematics at Union College in Schenectady, NY, in March, 1810. He again found that teaching did not well suit his tastes, nor did his style of teaching effectively inspire his students to study.

In 1812, congress appointed Hassler the superintendent of the first United States Coast survey. They sent him to France and England to collect supplies for his endeavor. The English, however, detained Hassler, thinking him an enemy spy. He returned to the United States in 1815, at which time the survey formally began. Two years later, dissatisfied with his work, Congress suspended the survey. Hassler tried his hand at farming in upstate New York, and then traveled to Richmond to privately tutor the children of wealthy families. He also started writing textbooks which included Analytical Trigonometry, Elements of Geometry, Systems of the Universe, and Elements of Arithmetic. He also compose an article for the publication of the American Philosophical Society, Transactions, in 1828. In that piece, he defended his methods for the Coastal survey. Many respected scientists read the article and approved of his methods, and wrote to express their support for his leadership of the project.

In 1830, President Andrew Jackson appointed Hassler as the gauger for the United States, determining the standards for weights and measures for the country. Two years later, Hassler resumed his work as the superintendent of the Coast survey. He served in both of those capacities until his death on 20 November 1843.

Information from:

"Ferdinand Rudolph Hassler." www.dean.usma.edu/math/about/history/hassler.htm. 19 October 2003.

White, James T., ed. "Ferdinand Rudolph Hassler." Appleton's Cyclopaedia of American Biography. New York: Appleton and Co, 1887-89. www.famousamericans.net/ferdinandrudolphhassler. 2001 "

www.vcdh.virginia.edu/lewisandclark/biddle/biographies_ht...

museum.nist.gov/exhibits/ex1/room2.html

Howl

BY ALLEN GINSBERG

For Carl Solomon

I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,

incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,

who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,

who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,

who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,

who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,

who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,

who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,

who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,

who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,

who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,

who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,

who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,

who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,

who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,

who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,

who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses’ rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,

who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,

who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blur floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,

who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,

who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,

who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,

who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,

who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,

and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,

who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,

returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,

Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,

with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—

ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—

and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,

who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,

and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

II

What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!

Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!

Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smoke-stacks and antennae crown the cities!

Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!

Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!

Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!

Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

III

Carl Solomon! I’m with you in Rockland

where you’re madder than I am

I’m with you in Rockland

where you must feel very strange

I’m with you in Rockland

where you imitate the shade of my mother

I’m with you in Rockland

where you’ve murdered your twelve secretaries

I’m with you in Rockland

where you laugh at this invisible humor

I’m with you in Rockland

where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I’m with you in Rockland

where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I’m with you in Rockland

where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses

with you in Rockland

where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica

I’m with you in Rockland

where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx

I’m with you in Rockland

where you scream in a straightjacket that you’re losing the game of the actual pingpong of the abyss

I’m with you in Rockland

where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse

I’m with you in Rockland

where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

I’m with you in Rockland

where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha

I’m with you in Rockland

where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb

I’m with you in Rockland

where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale

I’m with you in Rockland

where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won’t let us sleep

I’m with you in Rockland

where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls’ airplanes roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we’re free

I’m with you in Rockland

in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

San Francisco, 1955—1956

Maker: Nelson King Cherrill (1845-1916)

Born: UK

Active: UK/New Zealand

Medium: letterpress

Size: 7 in x 10 in

Location:

Object No. 2021.554b

Shelf: E-46

Publication:

Other Collections:

Notes: Nelson King Cherrill was born in Kent on April 27, 1845. His interest in photography led him to an introduction to Henry Peach Robinson, who hired him as an assistant in 1868. Mr. Cherrill soon established his reputation as a "young and rising photographer" who specialized in landscapes. Mr. Robinson took notice of his apprentice's potential, and the duo soon became business partners. Robinson & Cherrill was, while it lasted, a perfect marriage between art and intellect, creative composition and technical precision. The team flourished in artistic photography and studio portraits, and their ornate gallery proudly displayed the nearly 50 medals received from European and American exhibits. Their artistic mastery is particularly evident in such scenic photographs as Evening on Culverden Down (c. 1870) and Seascape at Night (1872), which masterfully combines painting techniques with landscape photographic processes. The Beached Margent of the Sea (1870) is lauded by modern-day photo historians as a masterpiece of landscape realism and artistic imagination. Clouds and seagulls were added to enhance the seascape without altering the beauty of the natural landscape. For reasons that remain unclear, the partnership abruptly dissolved in 1875, and the following year Mr. Cherrill moved to New Zealand, where he became one of the country's most successful and innovative photographers. Cherrill later returned to England, where he died in Surrey at age 71 on September 18, 1916.

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For $2 you can play a game of chess with him or have a lesson...Definitly had the most character of all the chess players at this cafe near Harvard

I've always had a thing for glasses - even though my sight is actually fine - so I thought I would try out a cute librarian meets flamenco dancer look, matching the glasses and hair with my baby blue Dotti party dress that swayed around my hips and barely covered my bum as I had a dance in the living room!

Painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, this evocative portrait captures architect Sir William Chambers (1723–1796) at a moment of creative spark. Holding a sketchbook and quill, his gaze is fixed on an imagined structure yet to be drawn — an image of intellect and invention. Reynolds was both friend and admirer, and painted Chambers three times. This version dramatizes the scene with theatrical lighting that pools on the architect’s face, as if a divine plan had just been whispered in his ear.

This panel also bears a darker history — it is an œuvre spoliée, a looted artwork seized by the Nazis and later recovered. It now resides in Bordeaux on deposit from the Musée du Louvre under the MNR (Musées Nationaux Récupération) system.

🇫🇷 Peint par Sir Joshua Reynolds, ce portrait saisissant montre l’architecte Sir William Chambers (1723–1796) dans un moment d’inspiration intense. Carnet de croquis et plume à la main, il fixe du regard une structure encore imaginaire — image vivante de l’intellect et de la création. Reynolds, ami et admirateur, l’a représenté à trois reprises. Cette version dramatise la scène par une lumière théâtrale, concentrée sur le visage de l’architecte, comme si un plan divin venait de lui être soufflé.

Cette œuvre porte également une histoire plus sombre : spoliée par les nazis pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale, elle a été restituée puis déposée au musée de Bordeaux par le musée du Louvre sous le sigle MNR (Musées Nationaux Récupération).

Musée des Beaux-Arts, Bordeaux

Housed in a wing of Bordeaux’s Palais Rohan, the Musée des Beaux-Arts offers a rich and refined collection spanning from the Renaissance to the 20th century. From Rubens to Renoir, its galleries celebrate both French masters and European greats — a tranquil yet powerful space where art breathes through centuries of brushwork.

🇫🇷 Installé dans une aile du Palais Rohan, le Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux abrite une collection précieuse allant de la Renaissance au XXe siècle. De Rubens à Renoir, ses galeries rendent hommage aux grands maîtres français et européens — un lieu paisible et inspirant où l’art traverse les siècles d’un trait de pinceau.

Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction between the real and the unreal; that all things appear as they do only by virtue of the delicate individual physical and mental media through which we are made”

Copyright© 2011 Child of the King Photography

This image is protected under the United States and International Copyright laws and may not be downloaded, reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without written permission.

PLEASE ...PLEASE...PLEASE

JUST A REMINDER

NO INVITES OR GRAPHICS

Thanks for your visits and kind comments!!!!!

~ Robert Brault

i can't wait to leave.

only four months left.

i let so many people walk all over me

and i'm tired of it.

when i talk to you, i feel like a lot gets resolved.

but then, the moment we end the conversation, it's like i'm putting everything in a bag and shaking it until i'm blue in the face.

honestly, i don't know what to do.

i feel horrible all the time, and i feel like i'm doing everything wrong.

i guess i'll just do what comes naturally, or try to at least.

:/

"Paris is a mighty schoolmaster, a grand enlightener of the provincial intellect." -- Mary Elizabeth Braddon

Set description for more info.

Photography by Ryan Wood

"Intelligence is a natural phenomenon -- just as breathing is, just as seeing is. Intelligence is the inner seeing; it is intuitive. It has nothing to do with intellect. Never confuse intellect with intelligence, they are polar opposites. Intellect is of the head; it is taught by others, it is imposed on you. You have to cultivate it. It is borrowed, it is something foreign, it is not inborn. But intelligence is inborn. It is your very being, your very nature"

One day, a courtesan of unearthly beauty appeared at the Emperor’s court. Her skin was like silk and porcelain, and her eyes gleamed like polished onyx. Her body exuded an enchanting scent, and her robes were immaculate. She quickly endeared herself to the Emperor and his concubines; her unequaled grace was matched by a glittering wit and astonishing intellect, and though she appeared to be no older than twenty, there was no question that she could not answer. There seemed to be no limit to her knowledge and strange wisdom, and she was well-versed on every topic, from astronomy to Buddhist teachings. So profound was the Emperor’s fascination with this woman that he kept her by his side, day and night. One night, the Emperor and his court attended a performance of poetry and music at the serene Seiryoden. A strong gust of wind suddenly tore through the Leaping Tiger Garden into the performance hall, shaking the bamboo reeds and extinguishing the lanterns. The room was plunged into darkness, save for a warm, golden light that emanated from within the mysterious woman’s robes. She was aglow like the rising sun. Enthralled, the Emperor declared to his ministers that this woman must be an incarnation of the Buddha, and he named her Tamamo-no-Mae. Deeply in love and profoundly devoted, the Emperor exchanged weighty vows with his favored mistress, and showered her with gifts and affection.

Within months, the Emperor became ill. He was listless, his sword-hand faltered, his skin took on a grey cast, and his muscles began to sag. Horrified, his ministers went to all the priests and soothsayers in the land, begging them for answers. They had none. The ministers appealed to the people, begging them to raise their voices in prayer. The people loved the Emperor, and sent their prayers to the Gods. The Emperor’s condition did not change. Finally, the renowned astrologer, Abe no Yasuchika, divined the cause of the Emperor’s infirmity: Tamamo-no-Mae. She was not born of woman; her true form was that of a hundred-year-old, forty-two-foot-tall, two-tailed fox demon. Disguised as a beautiful courtesan, the demoness hoped to slowly kill the Emperor, and then take his place. Knowing that she was exposed, Tamamo-no-Mae fled the palace.

Horrified, the Emperor sent the greatest warriors in the land, Kazusa-no-Suke and Miura-no-Suke, to pursue and slay his former mistress. The creature was wily and elusive, and after many weeks of hunting, the warriors began to fear that they would be unable to bring the demon to justice, thus shaming themselves and their families. They vowed that they would commit suicide if they failed in their quest, and they prayed to the Gods for assistance. That night, a beautiful woman appeared to Miura-no-Suke in his dreams. Her lovely face was marred by weeping, and she begged the warrior to spare her life. He refused, and cut the woman down. Upon waking, he realized that the dream was an omen – they would find and kill the foxwoman this day – and the warriors resumed their hunt with renewed enthusiasm. The hunters spotted the fox on the Plains of Nasu, and Miura-no-Suke fired an arrow into her heart. She fell, and her body transformed into the Sessho-seki, the Killing Stone.

Tamamo-no-Mae’s scent is soft skin musk, brushed by white tea leaf, rice flower, black locust flower, white sandalwood kodo soke, dry ginger, benzoin gum, and Amacha.

7/26 Hands.

"Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain." -Carl Jung

From Geoffrey Farmer’s "The Intellection of Lady Spider House" at the Art Gallery of Alberta

"Down a dark dead end Farmer calls the Alley of Immigration, there is an opportunity to peer through a black curtain for perhaps the most bone-chilling moment of the experience: an encounter with David Hoffos’s lifelike projection Marianne Sitting, from the Scenes from the House Dream series. The woman sits on the floor, tapping her toe, checking her watch and – wow – looking directly at you, it seems." The Globe and Mail,Oct. 30, 2013

The Palace of Fine Arts in the Marina District of San Francisco, California, is a monumental structure originally constructed for the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition in order to exhibit works of art presented there. One of only a few surviving structures from the Exposition, it is the only one still situated on its original site. It was rebuilt in 1965, and renovation of the lagoon, walkways, and a seismic retrofit were completed in early 2009.

In addition to hosting art exhibitions, it remains a popular attraction for tourists and locals, and is a favorite location for weddings and wedding party photographs for couples throughout the San Francisco Bay Area, and such an icon that a miniature replica of it was built in Disney's California Adventure in Anaheim.

Built around a small artificial lagoon, the Palace of Fine Arts is composed of a wide, 1,100 ft (340 m) pergola around a central rotunda situated by the water. The lagoon was intended to echo those found in classical settings in Europe, where the expanse of water provides a mirror surface to reflect the grand buildings and an undisturbed vista to appreciate them from a distance.

Ornamentation includes Bruno Louis Zimm's three repeating panels around the entablature of the rotunda, representing "The Struggle for the Beautiful", symbolizing Greek culture. while Ulric Ellerhusen supplied the weeping women atop the colonnade and the sculptured frieze and allegorical figures representing Contemplation, Wonderment and Meditation.

The underside of the Palace rotunda's dome features eight large insets, which originally contained murals by Robert Reid. Four depicted the conception and birth of Art, "its commitment to the Earth, its progress and acceptance by the human intellect," and four the "golds" of California (poppies, citrus fruits, metallic gold, and wheat).

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palace_of_Fine_Arts

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Text_of_Creative_Commons_...

Description: "The Deaf, Dumb, and Blind Girl" Julia Brace article, continued.

Full text: Article continued:

Transcend even the sagacity of a spaniel. Yet keeping in view all the aid which these limited facilities have the power of imparting, some of the discoveries and exercises of her intellect are still, in a measure, unaccountable.

As the abodes which from her earliest recollection she had inhabited were circumscribed and humble, it was supposed that at her first reception into the Asylum she would testify surprise at the comparative spaciousness of the mansion. But she immediately busied herself in quietly exploring the size of the apartments, and the height of the staircases; she even knelt, and smelled to the thresholds; and now, as if by the union of a mysterious geometry with a powerful memory, never makes a false step upon a flight of stairs, or enters a wrong door, or mistakes her seat at the table.

Among her various excellencies, neatness, and love of order are conspicuous. Her simple wardrobe is systematically arranged, and it is impossible to displace a single article in her drawers, without her perceiving and restoring it. When the large baskets of clean linen are weekly, brought from the laundress, she selects her own garments without hesitation, however widely they may be dispersed among the mass. If any part of her dress requires mending, she is prompt and skilful in repairing it and her perseverance in this branch of economy greatly diminishes the expense of her clothing.

Since her residence at the Asylum, the donations of charitable visitants have been considerable in their amount. These are deposited in a box with an inscription, and she has been made to understand that the contents are devoted to her benefit. This box she frequently poises in her hand, and expresses pleasure when it testifies and increase of weight; for she has long since ascertained that money was the medium for the supply of her wants, and attaches to it a proportionable value.

Through her habits are peculiarly regular and consistent, yet occasionally some action occurs which it is difficult to explain. One morning, during the past summer, while employed with her needle, she found herself incommoded by the warmth of the sun. She arose, opened the window, closed the blind, and again resumed her work. This move-

Publisher: The Juvenile Miscellany. Vol IV, No. 11. Press of Putnam and Hunt, Boston.

Date: 1828

Format: text

Digital Identifier: AG54-JB-0010

Rights: Samuel P. Hayes Research Library, Perkins School for the Blind, Watertown, MA