Rainbow over the minicipality

Rainbow over the minicipality

Saturday 24 December 2016

Lost Professions



Lost Professions
Our image of history, such as regularly represented through Visual Media, omits everything that has been forgotten.  We only see what we know for sure existed, and yet when we do the research we find that the popular image is quite wrong.
For example, the period of History that used to be called ‘the Dark Ages’ is usually portrayed as grey and sombre.  Churches in particular tend to be as grey as they are today, but a bit newer, and castles are invariably shown to have huge, stone walls inside all the rooms, with occasional, massive pieces of furniture.  However, the Late Middle Ages, approximately from 1070 to 1470 (1), was a very colourful period.  Churches had huge wooden screens that entirely filled the area from floor to ceiling and wall to wall between the Nave and the Transept, and it was all intricately carved and brightly painted.  Just as the Parthenon was brightly and by our standards garishly painted to the horror of the Romantic tourists who adore the weathered white.  Castles, did not have bare walls in the areas where the Upper Class lived, because they were always covered by tapestries or other wall hangings.  In Hamlet, hiding behind the arras is an important plot development.  The Churches were all stripped during the Reformation.  Anyhow, our popular idea is wrong on this, but it is not what I intended to write about.
Scriveners are a forgotten Profession that we rarely see in the background of scenes, because all Big Houses must have employed a team of people from the Estate to copy documents and write letters.  One could read and write oneself, but one would have staff who could read and copy accurately.  It must have been a common occupation.  We see women at spinning wheels or looms, or embroidering, but many must have sat at a table with a quill and ink.  Writing must have always been part of ‘women’s work’, but believed to be ignorant by men, they mostly were happy to let men think they were illiterate.  This is sure to have been the case when the men were themselves illiterate. (2)
I was going to write about various women’s activities especially in the largely women-only worlds of most villages and Big Houses, the two Social Structures of the Middle Ages.  Most men were away at Crusades or other military activities, or they were in Holy Orders.   Young aristocratic women must have enjoyed partying, as would women in the village, probably separately.  Women had what is called ‘cottage industry’ where they spun, wove and sewed in their own homes to provide the endless demand for new, pretty clothes for their ‘mistresses’.  Wagner’s Spinning Song is a good portrayal, but rarely on television or on the big screen have I seen much of this work happening. 
History was written by men and it is the men’s stories of kings and heroes and the big politics of States and estates, but life ‘at home’ went on in a traditional way for centuries, often oblivious to the goings on that eventually formed our historical knowledge and image of the periods.  Sometimes they collided, such as when an army marched through an area, say, down a valley, going from village to village, pillaging supplies and satisfying the soldiers’ carnal desires.  If people were really un-lucky, a battle would happen in their local fields.  Sometimes, someone’s son, brother or betrothed would be in one of the fighting armies.  But History isn’t usually written about ordinary people, except in the Fairy Stories.  Of course, the Big Houses were something else again.  A Big House was an entire community of people, not just the Aristocrats who ‘owned’ it.  Often they were associated with a village, though not all villages were connected to a Big House.  Most women would have been left pregnant, when their husbands went to war.  There must have been village commerce amongst these cottages of women, though all would have supported her own kitchen garden and been largely self-sufficient, with the help of her un-married daughters and her daughters-in-law. 
It may be stretching it too far to suggest that these lonely, Aristocratic, young women would not have wanted to nurse their own infants.  We know wet nurses existed, but they might have been something of a Profession, with village mothers that have weaned their own babies continuing to nurse ‘well bred’ babies of the Upper Class, to free their mothers for whatever frivolous activities such girls would have indulged in.
Footnote: (1) It would appear that in most centuries, it was around the year seventy of that decade when things changed.  Think of after the English Revolution and after the American Revolution.  British Australia was founded in the seventeen-seventies.  The Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed in the year Seventy.  It wasn’t till much later in the Eleventh Century that the first Crusade got going, changing Europe for ever, though the initial Call was a result of the Millenium itself, by some accounts.
(2) In Australian Mensa Inc, members whose wife is not a member have no problem both attending, but when the member’s husband is not a member, there is a tension that is often palpable, and such couples rarely return for more functions, though membership becomes more important after that as it is for most Mensans who never go to functions with other Mensans.

Thursday 15 December 2016

Novel Numbers



Here is a new and novel idea about numbers, or I think it is new.  There is some debate about whether numbers, or which numbers, are ontological ‘things’. This is Mathematical Realism.   Perhaps only Prime Numbers have a life of their own, so to speak, as composite numbers can be assembled from them.  Fractions are created out of the prime numbers because they can be represented as a polynomial and even the transcendental numbers can be written as an infinite sum of numbers.  Philosophers from Kripke to Russell and with ever expanding, complex, new Number Theory, have grappled with accepting the ‘a priori’ truth of even the Number ‘One’ and from it the Number Line by assuming that non-existence has the ontological status of a number, called ‘zero’ to which One can be endlessly added.  But nothing is nothing, and we are imagining a continuum that in reality can only approach non-existence from either side but can never ‘not be’ because even the idea of something is a form of existence with ontological presence even if devoid of ‘substance’.  The Prime Numbers do appear to have real-world existence beyond our use of language and the ability to label things in useful ways.  Now, here is my new and novel idea.  It came to me while thinking of the pentagram, the five-pointed star that can be assembled into two different, regular three-dimensional objects.  The square root of five is an important number in this, so it occurred to me that perhaps it is the square root of five that is the real world phenomenon, not the integer five itself.  Then I thought how the square root of two is the length of the diagonal of a square.  That makes it exist in the real world in a fundamental way, as a length that exists for itself.  The number two, on the other hand, is a mental construct by people to count when there are a precise quantity of a multiplicity of single objects.  I say, ‘I have two hands,’ but I just have a hand and have another hand, the ‘twoness’ of my hands, their duality, is all in human imagination.  A similar argument for the diagonal of a cube that are the square root of three.  So, it is the square roots of numbers that are special,and exist in the real world in a way that our counting integers do not.

Saturday 29 October 2016

To the Brat! (Russian for 'brother'),

In recent times I have been trawling through memories and seeing them with a new understanding, particularly of our Father.  He was not what he seemed, I now believe.

I never thought of him as a 'Dress Designer' but he produced a range of Pret a Porte frocks under three lables every year through the 1950's.  He must have dressed our Mother, but I never knew that she or any of her friends were wearing dresses designed and manufactured by our Father. 

During the Olympics, I remember him at events (I was just old enough to go) dancing with all the Russian Women Athletes as well as the Russian Women Officials, who were reportedly spies.  I believe he was 'spying' and reporting secretly to the Government.  I went once to some event at some military shooting place, that was all very 'those sort of chaps' or whatever, higher ranks, and I was astonished at how he seemed to know everyone, but by then the Cold War was warming up and his abilities to speak Russian were no longer needed.  There is also a pendant from the Romanians in gratitude for his help, because he spoke that Language also, and I guess was asking them questions on behalf of the Government.  Remember the 'blood in the pool'? Just after Russia invaded Hungary?  Anyhow, like everyone doing that sort of thing, he could not speak of it, nor anything else that might be transpiring, so we never knew.  I have no idea what our dear Mother knew, but I assumed enough because she went along with it. 

The biggest revelation in my revised memories was to see that our Father had fallen out totally with his own Father.  Our Grand-Father died a few years before I was born, but after the start of the War.  I believe he was quite religious, having been part of the break-away from Elwood to form the Addas Congregations, and our Father was not, and I suspect this was a problem.  He went once per year on Yom Kippur, and one year I walked round with him to other Shules, as one did, and went behind the curtain to say hello to our Grand-Mother, so I was perhaps ten years old.  She must have died during the next year as we did not do it again.  The highway that was High Street, between St Kilda Shul on one side and Elwood on the other, only five minutes walk apart, was an enormous distance that was never broached.  Later I met people who had grown up on the other side of the highway, and their Jewish World was utterly different from mine, yet, physically it had been so close.  I think we suffered from a fractured chain of paternal/filial relationships.


Thursday 27 October 2016

The Southern Hemisphere

The Southern Hemisphere is not something we think of as a 'thing'.  It is more a location, and being spherical in shape is very difficult to contemplate in its entirity, especially when we are used to maps that are based on the Northern Hemisphere.

The world can be thought of with the South Pole at the top, or rather, tilted as is the axis of the world.  Then the world rotates clockwise, which is the natural way most things in Nature revolve.  It is the Northern Hemisphere that is on the bottom of the world.  We can imagine a spinning globe of a planet with a solid crust on the top.  As it spins, some of this crust breaks away and flows down the spinning ball.  Plate Techtonics is the crust of our world that is slowly sliding 'down', that is from South to North, in some great 'gravitational field' that is beyond our conception. 

Australia should position ourselves as leaders of the Southern Continents, and help South America and Africa develop and progress.  To a great extent, weather systems are distinct in the two hemispheres, for example, a Neuclear War in the North might not be fatal in the South, and other forms of social and economic systems could eaually be isolated.

We are generally thinking of China and India being the two great Northern Powerhouses that will overtake Europe and North America and with them locate nearly all Economic activity in the Northern Hemisphere.  However, eventually Africa and South America should rise.  Australia, Oceania, South East Asia as well as Africa and South America together, as a United Southern Hemisphere, could rival the North.  This could take a Century, by which time Antarctica will be populated with resettled refugees, amongst others. 

In two hundred years, the World Capital could be in a magnificent ice-palace at the Southern Pole.

Another reason why Australia should lead the Southern Hemisphere, and hence the world is that we have the oldest coninuous cultures amongst all human peoples.  The Australian Aboriginal Dances are memories of the way the world began.  It would be tragic if these memories were forgotten, but they appear (at the start of the 3rd millenium since the start of the Roman Empire) to be strengthening and spreading. 

Saturday 22 October 2016

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The Speed of Light is defined as 99792458 meters per second, but what is a meter and what is a second.  On examination, the meter is defined as how far light will travel in one 99792458ths of a second, which would be a meaningless circle of definitions excapt that we now take the Speed of Light to be a Mathematical Constant, in the same way the e and pi are constant so that now we just have a balance between the meter and the second. 

the second is now defined by a complex precision in the timing of a quantum fluctuation in a Cesium atom, and that is defined to be 9 192 631 770 times the atomic time scale chosen, perhaps because of its ease of measurement.  this is 30.66331898849837 times the Speed of Light. And why isn't the speed of light set at a simple billion, instead of this close approximation from the coincidental similarity of certain choices in our human-defined standards, like the cubit/inch/meter or the second?

This is not the same as the suggested minimum quantum of time itself, which is related to the incredibly tiny Plank's Number.  <p>


One day our species will have a totally different numbering and measuring system that will make us look to them as archaic, like Roman Numerals look to us.  The fundamental units will be redefined in terms of absolute values that exist in the world, not just what looks convenient to us, like the meter and the kilogram.  Measurements won't be linear like our present tape-measures, but exponential, so that the unit of measurement is related to the size of what is being measured.  It works in Science but we don't yet use it in normal, day-to-day life.<nl> I won't live to see it, sadly, probably not even if I had just been born this century.

It is such a waste of time thinking about these things, but it takes my mind of my imminent death.  I keep thinking that if the bleeding persists till Tuesday, I shall take myself to the new Cance Clinic and beg them to take me in.  Then I can cancel Mr C.... what's his name.  I might yet make it to the Opera.  That was the icing on the cake of pain, so to speak, finding the very day of the test was the day I had booked for the Opera, to see Anne Bolyne.  I don't have a proper diary/calendar.

Getting Personal!

what use is a personal Blog if I don't tell it my real, inner thoughts?  Like how I am freaking out right now because I am shitting blood.  Whom can I talk to?  Medicos?  Hah!!  Ten minutes to listen to their platitudes like "(I know it is probably fatal, but I'll tell you:) it looks small, see this Specialist in about it. (I know you won't see him for a month and then it will be another month for the test which can only happen on a specific day, no matter how inconvenient, but I'll tell you:) Nothing to worry about, you will be fixed up in no time."

One might pray, of course, but that freaks me out even more.  I dabbled in 'Ceremonial Magic' with a method of my own devising that I called "Faerie Magick" and called myself Uncle Gnaum.  I did my own progression, firstly working through the Tarot Pack till I reached the Magus, and then moved to the next series of training that took me up to the High Priestess.  I did a lot of amazing Meditations that were certainly all in my head, but I did feel totally connected to something Universal.  

The big secret that I have never told anyone is that I am a Cannabis Addict.  When I was having the Counseling at SECASA, I didn't tell Donovan and when I was seeing Anastasia at Relationships Australia, I didn't admit it, but always kept it a secret.  That Dr Anthony did ask about drugs in a very vague way, and I answered equally vaguely.  Perhaps then I used my oft quoted generalisation that I haven't smoked cigarettes for decades, which is true as I only smoke 'green'.


Saturday 15 October 2016

DanceHouse, 12th Tishri



Dear DanceHouse People,
How do I recover my white garment, washed in Murray water?  I don’t like this emphasis on colour.  What are we, the ‘whities’ who need our sins expunged by traditional washing.  I deplore the use of ‘black’ to define Aboriginal people, many of whom do not have very dark pigmentation.  It means the same as ‘nigger’ which has deplorable connotations, yet people like to own ‘black’.
We are coming up again soon to Australia Day, which Aboriginal people deliberately use divisively, by rejecting the general celebration of our nation in favour of a separate mourning of the ‘invasion’.  As long as this persists, Reconciliation will be impossible.  As an all-inclusive  nation, we need to find a different day on which to remember and mourn the tragedies of the past.  This shameful history should be commemorated by all Australians, not just those who can prove genetic, ancestral occupancy of Country since ancient times. 
I see from the DanceHouse Diary that DanceHouse is at the forefront of the divisiveness and internal social dislocation that tragically splits the world’s community of people.  ‘Anti-Capitalism’ is a failed philosophy that is ‘so last century’.  It is the sort of movement that has generated phenomena like Trump.  I notice that you charge a ticket price!  You should make your performances free and include a voluntary donation box at the entrance, where you would most probably take in more than you do selling tickets.  It is fine being an adolescent iconoclast, but it is quite unrealistic in the real world and the predominance of these divisive attitudes of unbridled hatred towards others produces the worst reactions.
In the second performance piece, where two people, apparently with international ‘dance’ experience. Just flopped around for an hour in a dark, undefined space, moving slightly closer and then further from time to time, which was as close to meaningless as anything I have seen.  As to the soundtrack, I think one of the conflicting voices repeated the Moslem declaration of faith, but the other sounds were meaningless to me.  Were they Xian chants?  It was essentially trivial movement to noise.  It was quite hypnotic, and I cannot say I did not enjoy it – on some level, but watching the trees move in the wind, which I often like to do, is just as entertaining.
Better explanation of the first performance piece would have been better.  Fortunately, I read the brief notes that were hidden away in the foyer and which I am sure most people did not read.  I did look at the plates, but there was no time to study them to see if there was hidden significance in what was drawn.  None of us knew what to do when we sat at the table.  I think one person gobbled up their scone without any idea of its significance, while I was horrified by what it all meant and found it very confronting and thought provoking.  I would not eat the bread because I am a vegetarian, let alone not a cannibal, but the shock of thinking about the slavery that used to produce this bread and the symbolism of Aboriginal blood would have prevented me from even one bite.  There was too much waiting without knowing what was happening and that greatly distracted from the experience. 
I liked the idea of the washing, but the projected lists of massacres was unintelligibly written and so spasmodic in its projection that only the idea of it had meaning and its realisation was a failure.  I thought the ratio between the huge, central performance space and the audience space along the dusty edges of the floor said something about your attitude to us, the people for whom you perform.  Clearly, from all this, DanceHouse is all about ‘us’ and I regret that I am an outsider and not one of ‘you’.  Gosh!  I so hate all this divisiveness. 
Please send me back my white garment, randomly numbered ‘1’.  It will become a treasured part of my wardrobe, remembering the context in which it was laundered.  The massacres were a long time ago, but the attitude of inter-racial hatred that is promoted mostly by Aboriginal people and their fellow-travellers is causing a perpetuation of the tragedies.  I understand that now days more Aboriginal babies are being removed from their families than before the Stolen Generation Report.  There are things wrong with our Economic System, but they need to be fixed, and that will not happen while people like you dream of replacing it with some sort of ideal, theoretical utopia, and constantly express this hatred and contempt for other humans instead of working within the ‘system’ to make it work for everyone.  This conclusion is the result of me reaching seventy years of age and having gradually observed the folly of my own youthful rebelliousness.  Fifty years ago I would have agreed with all your mythical anti-establishment values, but now I am just very depressed and disappointed to see that our global society is no closer to harmony than we were in centuries past.  The more things change the more they stay the same.
The Melbourne Festival gives us the opportunity for unexpected experiences.  Some are truly transcendental, but others just make me think, and sadly what I think is ‘same old same old – going nowhere’.  We must not forget the tragedies of the past, but we need a Sorry Day for all of us, not a divisive one from which us ‘whities’ are excluded.  BTW, I studied Aboriginal Cultures with Open University a few years ago and got a High Distinction, so I feel I have a right to comment on these issues, not that anyone listens or agrees. 
Regards,
naum@tered.org