Farewell, Maurice

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Farewell, Maurice (art)
Originally uploaded by anselm23

We were doing ERB testing today, and I had a lot of time when I was at my desk but couldn’t really get too absorbed in any one project or lose track of what was going on around me.  As a result, I had some time to work on this … sketch? painting? drawing based on the cover of Maurice Sendak’s bookIn the Night Kitchen.  I wanted to do something to honor this great children’s author, and celebrate his life, and what he meant to me.

Via Flickr:
Made with Paper

Maurice Sendak died. I saw that Paper was ‘sponsoring’ a memorial for him, and I figured I’d join in the mourning.

As a kid, I had the opportunity to meet Mr. Sendak on several occasions. My mother worked for Farrar Strauss and Giroux, his hardcover publishing company, and I shook his hand and thanked him for his books and the difference they made in my life, when I was still only under ten years old.

I think. I have to admit the memories are a little fuzzy. But this book that was my favorite is this one, In the Night Kitchen, published in 1970, the year I was born.

Meditation on the Knight of Air

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As I said at the start of the meditation on the Knight of Disks, I’m doing these studies as part of RO’s coursework in Hermetics.  It’s proving to be a quite useful study, but I know that this will not be of interest to at least some of my readers. Feel free to skip over this reading.

Meditation on the Knight of Swords
(you can see an image of this card here)

The Knight of Swords is a figure in green armor, on the back of a pale yellow horse. Three birds fly with him in formation, which appear to be swallows.  Below him, contrails of clouds separate him from the deep blue ocean below.  Dragonfly wings like helicopter blades support him — translucent, ethereal.  He holds two swords in his outstretched hands — one long and small-sword or epée-like, one short and more daggerish.  He fights Florentine-style: two-handed, half in a direct manner, and half indirectly.  We, the observer above him, cannot see his face clearly. The horse rides with purpose, without direction from the rider by bridle or bit or harness. There is no obvious saddle — the relationship between rider and ridden is a perfect partnership. There is no distance between them.  Swiftness is implied by the diagonal movement across the card.

Written in calligraphic or cursive script within the dragonfly wings are the words, east, west, north and south.  This knight knows where he is going — The world revolves around him, and directions revolve around how he directs his attention.  He names the corners of the world.  This can also mean that his wings are fixed — he flies despite his wings, not because of them.  They are merely a symbol of his capacities, and not a means to his power.

For now, he steers a course that is south-by-southeast — far more southerly than easterly.  In most of the traditional elemental systems I know, East is the direction of Air, and South is the direction of Fire.  This suggests that one should use the intellectual capacities one has to pursue one’s passions.  Likewise, the two swords suggest a being at a high level of training or skill — no one starts learning to fight Florentine-style: it’s a method for advanced practitioners. Likewise, no one fights on horseback without saddle or stirrups or bridle without being confident of their horsemanship. The knight is a master of many intellectual arts, but he carries that knowledge in his body and muscle memory. It is not a brain-knowledge alone; he knows it with his being.

The Knight of Swords makes partnerships, too: On his left hand are the three swallows. They may be lesser beings, but they are friends and companions. He spares them not a glance; he trusts them to do their part in the approaching drama with grace and loyalty and accuracy. They will carry out his plans to the best of their ability.  Likewise the horse rides him into battle with open eyes.  He will not falter, but indeed charges full speed in the direction he is commanded.  The Knight of Air is to be trusted; he knows what is necessary, and following his directions leads to success, and eventual victory.

The contrails of clouds below him are akin to wounds; the Knight has passed this way before with two swords.  Unlike the Knight of Disks, the Knight of Swords carries no shield.  He goes into battle fully armored, but without additional defenses.  He is on the attack, and not prepared to make a stand.  He is mobile, agile, and ready to fight; but he will not stand his ground nor back down.  The short sword in his left hand has a smooth sphere of a guard — this is logic and reason, the blade that does not reach far but which few ever realize is being employed until too late.  The other, the long curved sword in the right hand, bears an abstract pattern like a trilobite, or waves on the beach.  This is the blade representing memory and narrative — the weapon of the thinker which reaches farther, punches harder, does damage faster — yet has more surfaces on which an opponent’s blade may catch or bounce.

Atop the knight’s helm is a six-pointed star: the Knight of Air reminds us that even armed and armored, every being is joined to the divine — a star shines over them, as an angel watches out for them, and illumines their path through the realms of intelligence and thought.  Their drive and skill is both a link to the divine, and a reminder of their race and value in the world.

This:

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http://xkcd.com/1053/

A few weeks ago, I was in a diner having breakfast, and this kid came over to me.  I’m not good at judging kids by size to determine what grade they’re in, but let’s say she was in third grade. I’d never seen her before.  She said, “Are you [student]‘s history teacher?”

In some surprise,  I said yes, and looked around.  [Student's mom] was sitting about two tables back from me, with a family, and she waved at me, and I realized that this girl was the daughter of the people she was sitting with.

She asked me a question about ancient Greece, which I answered as best I could. I’d like to think it was a pretty darned good answer, but it’s the way of things that you don’t always find out the end of the story, or if the knowledge stuck.  The kid asked some great follow-up questions, I responded in kind, and eventually she decided she’d picked my brain enough and went back to breakfast with her folks and my student’s mom.

Sometimes I think that’s how education really should be.  A lot of short conversations in the ordinary course of your day. A lot of short question-and-answer sessions about the world, and why things are the way they are.  Not tests, not quizzes, not orders to produce on schedule.  Just, “Hey, can you answer my question? You can? OK, how about some follow-up on that?  Yes? Great. Thanks for filling me in.”

As XKCD today says, it’s so much more fun telling people for the first time about something, than it is to berate them for not knowing it in the first place.  On my better days, I’ve made a career out of telling people some things they’ve never heard about before, often for the first time.  And it’s a wonder.

Taiji Day 67: Find the Snap

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In Eight Pieces of Silkthere’s this motion where one hand sinks below the groin, and the other rises above the head, palms out towards the ground and sky.  Then they snap into place, so the fingers are now pointed directly at the ground with one hand, and at the sky with the other.  It’s a wrist-lock, of sorts, and it needs to have some ‘snap’ in it to be worthwhile.  But finding that ‘snap’, that ‘click’… is going to take some time.

On the ten repetitions I tried to do this morning, I got maybe one snap. I’m not sure what I did to get it, though.  Experiment and practice is in order.  Yet the key here is to have some sense of what one is looking for, and then go for it.  Recognize it when you find it, and then learn to cultivate that practice.

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