Sunday, June 28, 2009

On The benefits of the Elixir according to Cyliani





The Legend of the Stone has spread everywhere: who has not heard at least once that the alchemists were looking for that magical elixir which turns vile metals into pure gold, and cures all kinds of diseases, gives youth, perfect health, and and extremely long life?I have just found in Cyliani, a french alchimist who wrote this work in 1831, a most interestic section on how the Elixir works its way in man.
Read carefully, You won't regret it.



i*******************************************************************************




"Everything that exists in the universe that is material or physical or purely mineral, even the gases, note this avowal". "Man is triune. His body or his shape is animated by a soul. This is the junction of diverse forces by the help of which the spirit imprints its shape or matter. The soul is directed by the Celestial Spirit which is an emanation of the divine action and, consequently, imperishable". "Only man’s form perishes. The spirit for which the soul serves as a tie or an envelope, separates itself and man’s form. Deprived of this vital celestial spirit, is delivered to the reaction of its constituent principles. Spirit and soul live then spiritually in seeking the centers that are suitable to them and, after the lapse of a certain time, man or the being or the spirit or the spiritual life which goes on always perfecting itself, separates itself from his soul or from his glorious envelope to enter into its universality. This means that man dies twice. This is to say, twice changes his form. But man or the spirit lives eternally. From what I have told you, you can now no longer doubt the immorality of the soul. "This is all that I am allowed to teach you now to satisfy your desires". "Now do you want to know how the Universal Medicine acts on the animal economy? Consider as I have just told you how only man’s form is mortal and you will see that only the solid aspect perishes. As these latter are all mineral, all can be regenerated by the principle or mineralizing spirit which, by its various modifications, forms the various products of this same principle and by its mysterious power which re-establishes the balance and allows the spirit freely to enter and to leave through our proper form just as water passes through a sponge. Because the upsets of our body only come, excepting mechanical disturbances, because the currents of life cannot circulate freely. But the virtue of the Universal Medicine is purely medicinal and nit surgical.It cannot replace an amputated limb or one that is entirely destroyed, which means that the person who takes it in good time, generally at the two equinoxes, can live without infirmities for several centuries unless nature has predestined a short duration of his life due to his physical make-up which never ceases to combat the efforts of life".



***********************************



Original French:Tout ce qui existe dans l'univers de matériel ou de physique est purement minéral; les gaz le sont eux mêmes; prends note de cet aveu.L'homme est un composé triple; son corps ou sa forme est animée d'une âme: celle-ci est la réunion de diverses forces à l'aide desquelles l'esprit régit sa forme ou la matière. L'âme est dirigée par l'esprit céleste qui est une émanation de l'action divine et par conséquent impérissable.L'homme ne périt jamais que par sa forme alors l'esprit auquel l'âme sert de lien ou d'enveloppe s'en sépare et sa forme, privée de l'esprit vital céleste, est livrée à la réaction de ses principes constitutifs. L'esprit et l'âme vivent alors spirituellement en recherchant les centres qui leur conviennent et au bout d'un certain temps l'homme ou l'être ou l'esprit ou la vie spirituelle, qui va toujours en se perfectionnant, se sépare de son âme ou de son enveloppe glorieuse pour rentrer dans son universalité, ce qui fait que l'homme meurt deux fois, c'est-à-dire change deux fois de forme. Mais l'homme ou l'esprit vit éternellement. D'après mon récit tu ne peux maintenant douter de l'immortalité de l'âme.Voilà tout ce qu'il m'est permis de t'apprendre ici pour satisfaire tes désirs.Maintenant veux-tu savoir comment la médecine universelle agit sur l'économie animale? Considère comme je viens de te le dire que la forme ou le corps de l'homme est seule mortelle, tu verras qu'il ne périt que du côté des solides. Comme ces derniers sont tous minéraux, tous peuvent être régénérés par le principe ou l'esprit minéralisateur, lequel par ses diverses modifications forme les divers produits que nous connaissons. Ils se trouvent donc tous ramenés à leur état primitif par l'action de ce même principe et de sa force étrangère, qui rétablit l'équilibre et permet à l'esprit d'entrer et de sortir librement à travers notre propre forme comme l'eau à travers une éponge; car le dérangement de notre corps ne vient uniquement, exception faite des indispositions mécaniques, que des courants de la vie qui ne peuvent librement circuler. Mais la vertu de la médecine universelle est purement médicinale et non chirurgicale, elle ne peut remettre un membre coupé ou détruit entièrement, ce qui fait que la personne qui en prend de bonne heure, habituellement aux deux équinoxes, peut vivre sans infirmités plusieurs siècles à moins que la nature n'ait prescrit une courte durée de son existence par son organisation, qui vient sans cesse contrarier les efforts de la vie.

Friday, May 22, 2009

The valley of the Dead Dry Bones


Talking of "fairy tales", and stories (mythoi) that , albeit seemingly irrational, ring true, are the ones contained in the Bible.
Only a few are more powerful than the prophecy of Ezekiel concerning the Resurrection of the Flesh. This passage, quoted by many but mysterious in the highest degree, is known as "The Valley of the Dead Dry Bones".
PS I think this prophecy contains an important clue as to the very mystery of time. Just notice how the Lord recreates life, playing, as it were, the movie we call death in reverse order..
Ezekiel Chapter 37
הָיְתָה עָלַי, יַד-יְהוָה, וַיּוֹצִאֵנִי בְרוּחַ יְהוָה, וַיְנִיחֵנִי בְּתוֹךְ הַבִּקְעָה; וְהִיא, מְלֵאָה עֲצָמוֹת
1 The hand of the LORD was upon me, and the LORD carried me out in a spirit, and set me down in the midst of the valley, and it was full of bones; ב וְהֶעֱבִירַנִי עֲלֵיהֶם, סָבִיב סָבִיב; וְהִנֵּה רַבּוֹת מְאֹד עַל-פְּנֵי הַבִּקְעָה, וְהִנֵּה יְבֵשׁוֹת מְאֹד. 2 and He caused me to pass by them round about, and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry. ג וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלַי--בֶּן-אָדָם, הֲתִחְיֶינָה הָעֲצָמוֹת הָאֵלֶּה; וָאֹמַר, אֲדֹנָי יְהוִה אַתָּה יָדָעְתָּ. 3 And He said unto me: 'Son of man, can these bones live?' And I answered: 'O Lord GOD, Thou knowest.' ד וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלַי, הִנָּבֵא עַל-הָעֲצָמוֹת הָאֵלֶּה; וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵיהֶם--הָעֲצָמוֹת הַיְבֵשׁוֹת, שִׁמְעוּ דְּבַר-יְהוָה. 4 Then He said unto me: 'Prophesy over these bones, and say unto them: O ye dry bones, hear the word of the LORD: ה כֹּה אָמַר אֲדֹנָי יְהוִה, לָעֲצָמוֹת הָאֵלֶּה: הִנֵּה אֲנִי מֵבִיא בָכֶם, רוּחַ--וִחְיִיתֶם. 5 Thus saith the Lord GOD unto these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live. ו וְנָתַתִּי עֲלֵיכֶם גִּידִים וְהַעֲלֵתִי עֲלֵיכֶם בָּשָׂר, וְקָרַמְתִּי עֲלֵיכֶם עוֹר, וְנָתַתִּי בָכֶם רוּחַ, וִחְיִיתֶם; וִידַעְתֶּם, כִּי-אֲנִי יְהוָה. 6 And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the LORD.' ז וְנִבֵּאתִי, כַּאֲשֶׁר צֻוֵּיתִי; וַיְהִי-קוֹל כְּהִנָּבְאִי, וְהִנֵּה-רַעַשׁ, וַתִּקְרְבוּ עֲצָמוֹת, עֶצֶם אֶל-עַצְמוֹ. 7 So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a commotion, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. ח וְרָאִיתִי וְהִנֵּה-עֲלֵיהֶם גִּדִים, וּבָשָׂר עָלָה, וַיִּקְרַם עֲלֵיהֶם עוֹר, מִלְמָעְלָה; וְרוּחַ, אֵין בָּהֶם. 8 And I beheld, and, lo, there were sinews upon them, and flesh came up, and skin covered them above; but there was no breath in them. ט וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלַי, הִנָּבֵא אֶל-הָרוּחַ; הִנָּבֵא בֶן-אָדָם וְאָמַרְתָּ אֶל-הָרוּחַ {ס} כֹּה-אָמַר אֲדֹנָי יְהוִה, מֵאַרְבַּע רוּחוֹת בֹּאִי הָרוּחַ, וּפְחִי בַּהֲרוּגִים הָאֵלֶּה, וְיִחְיוּ. 9 Then said He unto me: 'Prophesy unto the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath: {S} Thus saith the Lord GOD: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.' י וְהִנַּבֵּאתִי, כַּאֲשֶׁר צִוָּנִי; וַתָּבוֹא בָהֶם הָרוּחַ וַיִּחְיוּ, וַיַּעַמְדוּ עַל-רַגְלֵיהֶם--חַיִל, גָּדוֹל מְאֹד-מְאֹד. 10 So I prophesied as He commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great host.

Friday, March 27, 2009

The Two Paths to Freedom

The Old Masters of the Grand Way recognized Four main paths to Freedom, as clearly stipulated in this fragment from the Chemical Marriage of Christian Rosenkreuz (second day):

*****************************************

Hospes salve: si quid tibi forsitan de nuptiis Regis auditum.Verba haec perpende. Quatuor viarum optionem per nos tibi sponsusoffert, per quas omnes, modo non in devias delabaris, ad Regiamejus aulam pervenire possis. Prima brevis est, sed periculosa, etquae te in varios scopulos deducet, ex quibus vix te expedirelicebit. Altera longior, quae circumducet te, non abducet, planaea est, et facilis, si te Magnetis auxilio, neque ad dextrum,neque finistrum abduci patieris. Tertia, vere Regia est, quae pervarias Regis nostri delicias et spectacula viam tibi reddetjucundam. Sed quod vix millesimo hactenus obtigit. Per quartamnemini hominum licebit ad Regiam pervenire, ut pote, quaeconsumens, et non nisi corporibus incorruptibilibus conveniensest. Elige nunc ex tribus quam velis, et in ea constans permane.Scito autem quamcunque ingressus fueris: ab immutabili Fato tibiita destinatum, nec nisi cum maximo vitae periculo regredi fasesse.


God save thee, stranger! If thou hast heard anything concerning the nuptials of the King, consider these words. By us doth the Bridegroom offer thee a choice between four ways, all of which, if thou dost not sink down in the way, can bring thee to his royal court. The first is short but dangerous, and one which will lead thee into rocky places, through which it will be scarcely possible to pass. The second is longer, and takes thee circuitously; it is plain and easy, if by the help of the Magnet, thou turnest neither to left nor right. The third is that truly royal way which through various pleasures and pageants of our King, affords thee a joyful journey; but this so far has scarcely been allotted to one in a thousand. By the fourth shall no man reach the place, because it is a consuming way, practicable only for incorruptible bodies. Choose now which thou wilt of the three, and persevere constantly therein, for know which soever thou shalt enter, that is the one destined for thee by immutable Fate, nor canst thou go back therein save at great peril to life. These are the things which we would have thee know, but, ho, beware! thou knowest not with how much danger thou cost commit thyself to this way, for if thou knowest thyself by the smallest fault to be obnoxious to the laws of our King, I beseech thee, while it is still possible, to return swiftly to thy house by the way thou camest


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I shall only contemplate here the two main ones, known as the DRY PATH (Via Sicca) and the HUMID PATH (Via Humida), as the other two are mixed ones (the third is the Amalgamated path, and the last one is the Royal Path, the fastest but also the most dangerous). Also, I shall confine myself to their image in the human domain, which is paramount.Both ways tackle the problem of WILL. How can I manage to go beyond my petty self, and escape from my own trap?

The two ways bifurcate.

The Dry Path says: from now on , TAKE FULL CHARGE AND RESPONSIBILITY FOR ALL YOU DO. LEARN TO WILL. STOP COMPLAINING, FINDING EXCUSE.SELECT, INVESTIGATE, CHOOSE, AND , STEP BY STEP, BECOME THE MASTER OF YOUR OWN LIFE

The Humid Path says: from now on, RELINQUISH YOUR PETTY LIKES AND DISLIKES, DECIDE NOT, GIVE IN, GIVE UP. THOU SHALT NOT CHOOSE. JUST SAY: LET THY WILL BE DONE, AND LIVE

Striving for full control, striving to lose any control..... what could be more different? Yet, the Sages assure us that the two paths, Fire and Water, both lead us to ultimate perfection.

Two characters: one, the Magician & Doer, the other, the Mystic & Poet.

They shall meet again at the end...

Sunday, March 1, 2009

A sentence by Emile Cioran

Cioran was a consummate master of lapidary aphorisms.
Here is one, dear to my heart:

On ne réfléchit que parce qu'on se dérobe à l'acte.
Penser, c'est être en retrait.

We reflect for no other reason than to avoid doing.
To think, is to be in withdrawal

It is true. I have pondered enough. To me, now, there is nothing else but Doing.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

A sentence by David Lindsay

A couple of years ago, after stumbling upon Colin Wilson' s pronouncement that " Voyage to Arcturus is the greatest novel of the XX Century", I rushed to read David Lindsay's masterpiece, and other works of this neglected master. Lindsay was also a philosopher of sort, and some of his aphorisms are truly sparkling. Here is one, which I shall use in my own autobiography:

The conditions for extreme mental suffering are these; a strong will, a tender heart, and a clear intellect.

A strong will, a tender heart, and a clear intellect. Three pieces, with the middle one loose.
A sure recipe for pain..

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Musical Rambling XI: Eivør Pálsdóttir 's vocal magic



After the mesmerizing photos of the brave Rebekka Guðleifsdóttir I feel like indulging a bit more in this country of sagas, this last speck of Dreamland, the far north....

And what could be better than the voice of Eivør Pálsdóttir? There was a time in which music was magic, conjuring the elementals, and the voice was the wand which commanded the unknown..

Monday, November 10, 2008

Rebekka Guðleifsdóttir's Fairish World


I have confessed that I believe in Fairies. As a matter of fact, I do believe in more: somewhere, perhaps next door, there is a different world, FairyLand, where fairies and other magical creatures live and prosper.
Once upon a time the boundaries between our world, The Gray World, and FairyLand were somewhat more porous.
Not anymore.
Yet, every now and then, some terse eyes can sometimes cross those boundaries and take a glimpse of that enchanted land.
Such are the eyes of Rebekka Guðleifsdóttir. I have nothing more to say, but this:
click and watch

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Poetry Readings VIII: Stef Grassi's Frosty Trap


This fragment is from the notebook of Stefania Grassi, a contemporary tuscan poet, from her 2006 visit to Russia. It was not intended for publication, at least in this preliminary form, but I find it nonetheless extremely powerful as it is, a speck of burning heat in the midst of Moscow's frost.

A minimal metrical editing has been done by myself.

TRAPPOLA

Sapesse
la neve
ricalcare
la striscia
di desideri
non formulati
E il fuoco
starmi
dentro
con meno
danno.
Preparerei
io stessa
cumuli
di carta
per farlo
divampare

Ingoiando
calore liquido
dalla bocca
finalmente
aperta.

Ma troppo
a lungo
è stato
freddo
per poter
sciogliere
i capelli
e vedere
ciò che
stavo
guardando.
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TRAP
If only the snow knew
to trace the footprints
of unformulated desires
And the fire follow me
with less damage.
I would prepare
myself
heaps of papers
'to make it blaze
Swallowing
liquid heat
from the mouth
finally open.
But all too long
it has been cold
to untie
my hair
and see
what
I
was
watching
(translation by PolyMathicus 2008)
Stefania Grassi retains all the rights of the above. No copy or redistribution is allowed without explicit permission of the author. She can be contacted at her blog Aobliquo.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Musical Rambling X: Libre Vermell


The Libre Vermell found in the monastery of Monserrat is a magnificent example of sacred music with an underlying profane texture.

It is precisely this mix of religious and secular, holy and earthly, that fascinates me to the extreme.

Here is one of the 10 surviving songs, Cuncti sumus conanentes, in the magisterial direction of Jordi Savall.


Earth and Heaven are not that far, if our hearts are open..

Friday, September 26, 2008

Poetry Reading VI: From Daumal to Pradal

Rene' Daumal was no minor fellow: in his brief life he managed to be a mountain climber, a writer, an orientalist, a poet, and most important of all, a Truth Seeker.

Recently I have found a small poem of his which left an indelible impression when I first read it, years ago. Here it is:

Je suis mort parce que je n’ai pas de désir,

Je n’ai pas de désir parce que je crois posséder,

Je crois posséder parce que je n’essaye pas de donner.

Essayant de donner, on voit qu’on n’a rien,

Voyant qu’on n’a rien, on essaye de se donner,

Essayant de se donner, on voit qu’on n’est rien,

Voyant qu’on n’est rien, on désire devenir,

Désirant devenir, on vit..."

*************************

I have died because I do not have desires,

I do not have desires because I think that I own,

I think that I own because I do not try to give.

Trying to give, one see that one has nothing,

Seeing that one has nothing, on tries to give oneself,

Trying to give oneself, one seer that he is nothing,

Seeing that he is nothing, one desires to become,

Desiring to become, one lives...

(poor translation is mine)

*********************************

Now comes the funny part: after I posted it somewhere on the Social Web, Caroline Pradal, a french artist and a contributing member of AristoKracy, wrote this small poem in reply (she of course retains the copyright of this delicious creature), which I found witty and lovely (and I am sure Daumal, were he still alive, would forget her little "impertinence"):

Je suis en vie parce que je n'ai que des désirs,

J'ai des désirs parce que je les possède,

Je les possède parce que je les donne.

Essayant de donner, on voit que l'on a tout,

Voyant qu'on a tout, on essaye de ne rien donner,

Essayant de ne rien donner, on voit que l'on est Tout.

Voyant que l'on est Tout, on ne désire plus Etre,

Désirant ne plus Etre, on meurt...

***********************************

I am alive because I have only desires,

I have desires because I own them,

They are mine because I give them.

Trying to give, you see that you have everything

Seeing that you have everything, you try not to give

Trying not to give, you see that you are All.

Seeing that you are All, it no longer wants to Be,

Desiring not to Be, you die ...

(translation by Caroline Pradal, all rights reserved)

Saturday, September 6, 2008

The Theological Dream of C.S. Lewis

The same friend who prompted me to look into Chesterton is the motor behind my current reading: I am happily finishing The Great Divorce, by Clive Staples Lewis.

It is a small book, so small one can easily carry it in a pocket. Nevertheless, it is filled with wisdom, and uncanny insights. One wonders if it is only the product of a fertile fantasy, or something more..


What I found ironic here is that it was written as a response to The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, by William Blake. And yet, as different as their vision of the beyond is, these two bright fellows agree on one thing: the door to Heaven are in forgiveness.

Nay, not just forgiveness, that has been repeated ad nauseam.

Forgetfulness is the right word. Forgetting the evil we received and we imparted, that is the key.

Hell remembers, Heaven forgets..



Sunday, August 17, 2008

Poetry Readings V: Lispector's Dangerous Clarity





Scouring Youtube for a recitation of Clarice Lispector 's A dangerous Clarity I found these two videos. Which one to choose? The first one energetic, vigorous, almost dry, the second more intimistic, introspective, refleshingly humid. I feel a tad like Buridan's ass. Well, there is a way out: I shall not choose. They are both right. A poem, a real one, has many identities, it supports an almost endless number of interpretations. A poem is reborn each time is recited. Always the same, always different.

Hear the voice of the most dangerous clarity.


A Lucidez Perigosa

Estou sentindo uma clareza tão grande
que me anula como pessoa atual e comum:
é uma lucidez vazia, como explicar?
Assim como um cálculo matemático perfeito
do qual, no entanto, não se precise.
Estou por assim dizer
vendo claramente o vazio.
E nem entendo aquilo que entendo:
pois estou infinitamente maior que eu mesma,
e não me alcanço.
Além do que:
que faço dessa lucidez?
Sei também que esta minha lucidez
pode-se tornar o inferno humano
- já me aconteceu antes.
Pois sei que
- em termos de nossa diária
e permanente acomodação
resignada à irrealidade -
essa clareza de realidade
é um risco.
Apagai, pois, minha flama, Deus,
porque ela não me serve para viver os dias.
Ajudai-me a de novo consistir
dos modos possíveis.
Eu consisto,
eu consisto,
amém.

my translation:

The Dangerous Lucidity

I am feeling a clarity so great
that erases me as a real and common person:
it is an empty clarity, how to explain?
like a perfect mathematical calculation
which, however, is not needed.
I am as, it were,
seeing clearly the void.
Nor do I understand what I see
for I am infinitely greater than me
and I do not reach myself.
Besides:
what do I do with this clarity?
I also know that this clarity of mine
can turn into a human hell
- it happened to me already-
Thus I know that
- in terms of our daily
and permanent arrangements
resigned to unreality-
this clarity of reality
is a risk.
Quench, God, my flame
for it doesn't help me to live the days.
Help me to consist
of the possible modes.
I consist,
I consist,
amen.


Sunday, August 10, 2008

Musical Rambling IX: Sainte Colombe's pensive viola da gamba



I owe to a great friend the lucky discovery of the austere delights of music for viola da gamba. Amongst the greatest practitioners one must number the Sieur de Sainte Colombe, whose aloofness in life is magnificently reflected in his impeccable music.

When the fumes of turbid sentimentalism fog one's spirit, this music acts a potent medicine.


Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Ibsen's oxymoric farewell message



Recently I have been taken by the fancy of writing a play. As I have absolutely no precedent to rely upon, I decided to follow the old adage: climb on the shoulders of giants. There is hardly any giant in the world of modern playwriting larger than Henrik Ibsen (just look at his stately face, it tells volumes about the man).

So I have spent a few days reading some of his late plays. It would be quite tempting to indulge in some impromptu ramblings on these monumental works, particularly because I have watched Master Builder in the 1960 interpretation starring E.G. Marshall and Lois Smith, a truly outstanding performance.

I shall leave Ibsen's plays and characters to another time. Reading bits of his biography, I found out about his senile love for the young Emilie Bardach, with whom he corresponded for a while, and to whom the impetuous character of Hilde in Master Builder is perhaps inspired.

Here is his last message to Emile, dated September 20, 1889:

Hohes, schmerzliches Glück , um das Unerreichbare zu ringen

which translates:

High, painful luck, to struggle for the unattainable

Dear old Ibsen....

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Aldo Andreotti's Math Lesson


It was long ago in Pisa. Scuola Normale Superiore, Science Division. The students were waiting anxiously for the famous geometer, Aldo Andreotti, a legend of modern day italian mathematics.
The place: a lecture room, in the old Palazzo dei Cavalieri. Time: evening, before dark.
November, perhaps. Perhaps not.
At a certain point, a clumsy, chubby fellow shows up and announces that Prof. Andreotti will be late, and that he will start the lecture in his stead. There was nothing remarkable about it, the fellow writes formulae monotonously, one after the other, on the wide chalky blackboard.
Time passes, endless, tedious time.
Then, suddenly, as if materializing out of thin air, Professor A. shows up. He stares at the formulae, dismisses briskly the chubby and clumsy fellow, and begins writing, as if talking to himself.
He may have continued for a few minutes, he may have asked a few questions, I have no clear recollection.
Once again, as suddenly as he had appeared, he stops.
He sits on his chair, his jaws contracted, and looks at all of us, with a deep, almost annoyed, penetrating eye.
There is a sense of oppression, of thick clouds gathering, a palpable mute tension.
Professor A. finally open his mouth and utters the following words, in a strong tuscan accent (how strange it sounded in that momentous event):
- Let me tell you one thing. Math is hard, very hard. I worked all my life to understand it, and it is still hard. Each day. You must be prepared to work just as hard, or you better not waste your time, better go out and work in the fields-
(the last sentence, -andate a lavorar' ne' campi - echoes in my mind like a harsh, ironic mantra)
Then he pauses, an unfathomable pain engraved in his face, he toils with something on the desk, perhaps a cheap packet of cigarettes:
-The lesson is over-
I will never forget that class, Professor Andreotti, as long as I live. It took me so many years to understand it, but now I know. You were right, math is hard, and so is everything worth while in this world.You better be prepared to do your best, or let it go, before it is too late to regret it.
PS For the cognoscenti, Aldo Andreotti appears in the monumental and very idiosyncratic mathematical autobiography of Alexander Grothendieck, Recoltes et Semailles. Andreotti is one of the rare individuals whom AG seems to remember with affections, from his previous academic life.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Poetry Readings IV: Gerard De Nerval's Divine Enchantress

Recently I have been visiting, after so many years (too many, alas!), my native homeland, la bella Italia, and have drank once more the heady cocktail of life that Toscana offers to all. In a brief stop from my restless motorcycle rides up and down the Apuan Alps, I was glancing into the greenery of the Mediterranean landscape, and all of a sudden the first verse of Nerval's Myrtho resounded like a hypnotic melody from a never forgotten past:

MYRTHO

Je pense à toi, Myrtho, divine enchanteresse,
Au Pausilippe altier, de mille feux brillant,
A ton front inondé des clartés d'Orient,
Aux raisins noirs mêlés avec l'or de ta tresse.

C'est dans ta coupe aussi que j'avais bu l'ivresse,
Et dans l'éclair furtif de ton oeil souriant,
Quand aux pieds d'Iacchus on me voyait priant,
Car la Muse m'a fait l'un des fils de la Grèce.

Je sais pourquoi, là-bas, le volcan s'est rouvert...
C'est qu'hier tu l'avais touché d'un pied agile,
Et de cendres soudain l'horizon s'est couvert.

Depuis qu'un duc normand brisa tes dieux d'argile,
Toujours, sous les rameaux du laurier de Virgile,
Le pâle Hortensia s'unit au Myrte vert!

here is my translation:
Of you I think, Myrtho, divine enchantress
Of proud Posillipo, bright with million fires,
Of your face flooded in the clarity of the East,
Of black grapes mixed with the gold of your braids.

From your goblet I too drank euphoria
in the furtive flash of your smiling eye,
When at Iacchus' feet I was seen suppliant
For the muse has made me one of Greece sons.

I know why over there the volcano erupts once more…
Because yesterday you stroked it with your agile foot,
and suddenly the horizon was buried in ashes.

Since a Norman duke broke your clay gods,
Forever, under the branches of Virgil's laurels,
The pale Hortensia & the green Myrtle entwine !

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

The Grail of Java Web Development



Almost a year ago, in a post on metaprogramming, I announced that I would spend a few lines on my experience with Grails. I must tell you why I needed it: I wanted to develop some quick-and-dirty R&D Web prototype for my former employer, and also another one for my own pet project (a bleeding edge social web application, more later...).

I am a java fellow, not too keen on web programming (yes, I have done J2EE, servlets, a bit of Spring, and all that jazz, but my core interest is algorithms dev, not web architectures, plus patience is most definitely not my chief virtue), thus I needed something that would get me going real fast.

Rails? yes, but I had no time to learn Ruby well enough, and moreover I had some java code I wished to reuse, without any further ado.

The choice was obvious: Grails.


I have got to say that the very first minutes were truly blessed: seeing an entire web app coming out of nowhere was extremely gratifying. Customization? Well, it was a bit of a pain, to tell you the plain truth. Groovy is easy, but is still another language, and things are not entirely trivial when it comes to going beyond a simple CRUD app. However, all in all, big thumbs up.

The best part is, there are many plugins available.
You need security? ACEGI plugin.
You need search? Worry not, there is a searchable plugin based on Compass and Lucene.
Do you want to do some fancy Ajax stuff? Plenty of choice. For instance, the GWT plugin.
Bottom line: you have (most of) the tools you need.

Is Grails scalable enough for a true enterprise app? Some say yes (I tend to believe them), some say no, but fact is, I do not know yet for sure (I''ll tell you in a while). What I do know is, if you want to develop some web prototype at the speed of light (almost), and you do not want to go out of your familiar java turf (why should you?), stick to Grails.

PS I have already written on Graeme Rocher's blog this one, but I am going to repeat it here and now: as a social web researcher/developer, I would love to see some plugins dealing with the OpenSocial API, or perhaps a FaceBook API plugin, i.e. some way to get a template of a social web app right off the shelf, as it were. As I am a big believer of the programmable social web, I think this step would skyrocket Grails to another dimension of adoption and success. Hopefully something along those lines will be available soon.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Stephen Jay Gould on Deep Time


Stephen Jay Gould's book Time's Arrow, Time's Cycle is dominated by a grand theme:
Deep Time

In our age of computers, we talk of billions of years with nonchalance. The fact that we can compute these huge expanses of time fools us into believing that we can grasp them. But, is it so? Can we genuinely understand even, say, a period of mere 100 years? I would answer in the negative. Our entire life experience is confined to a few decades at best, and the age of our grandads is already mythology.

No, we cannot understand Deep Time, beyond a sense of awe. It is thus sobering to realize that this notion is quite new in the history of ideas. Only a few hundred years ago the world was young. Then, Deep Time appeared to hunt us forever.

We are not just microbes in space, our life is ephemeral in time as well. Let us never forget how ephemeral....

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Musical Rambling VIII: Sonny Rollins' Healthy Madness

Someone once said: Energy is the Eternal Delight.

He most certainly knew what he was talking about. There are moments where you just need this one: sheer, unmitigated, unbridled energy.

When I do need it, I have a single stop to make: Sonny Rollins. Here the old powerful man is playing Tenor Madness. And madness it is, just a bit, but of the most healthy type.

Feel the vibes and be happy

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

On Risotto And The Old Virtue Of Patience


Italian cuisine is chiefly popular for pasta and pizza. Nothing wrong with either one, of course, but I have a dream: that at some point in time risotto will be added to the short list of remarkable italian dishes. Risotto was, with Polenta, the staple food for northern italians, when life was slow and deep. It still reigns amidst the splendors of Northern Italian Cuisine, as a polymorphic and finely dressed little prince...
I have another, more self-centered dream: that, once I have defeated my despicable indolence, I will become a Master in the Noble Art of Risotto Making.
Well, Master I am certainly not, at least not yet. I have started my apprenticeship, though, and I want to share with you the basic secret: the single most important ingredient in Risotto (aside good Arborio rice) is the old Virtue of Patience.
You must stir, continuously, slowly, at a moderate fire regime. Risotto is unforgiving: too much fire, too much hurry, and you''ll end up with a heinous magma.
There is, to be sure, a true alchemy at work here: the action of fire has to take its dutiful place, a fire nurturing the gastronomical miracle.
Epicureans et savants, to the stove!
PS Do not save on the wine. A risotto deserves the very best there is.
PPS. There are plenty of good resources on risottos (try here, for a starter). Keep in mind that the basic recipe is deceptively simple, but the variations endless.