God of Wine

My first post in the greek mythology series will be dedicated to the God of Wine (because we all love it so much), Dionysus.
Dionysus was also the patron deity of agriculture and theatre, and was often known as "The Liberator", promoting freeing one from one's normal self by means of madness, ecstasy or wine. His Roman parallel was Bacchus, here depicted by Caravaggio:



Dionysus was the son of Zeus and Semele, a human mistress (and the daughter of king Cadmus of Thebes).
When Hera, Zeus' wife, found out about Semele's pregnancy, she decided to befriend her to get to know the real truth and manipulate Semele. Semele indeed confided in Hera, and was fooled into asking Zeus to show himself before her in all his godliness, to prove his status.
Semele begged and begged for Zeus to do this, and when he finally did, draped in thunder and lightning, she died because humans were not meant to see the gods without disguise.
Zeus hurried to rescue Dionysus out of Semele's womb, and sewed him into his own thigh. A few months later Zeus gave birth to Dionysus on the island of Ikaria.

The stories about Dionysus are plenty, so I will just encourage you to read about them here

Apparently he loved traveling, and at one point he went to India and didn't want to leave. Much like us, hehe.

There was also a list of names deriving from Dionysus which I found quite interesting:

Dion, Deon, Deion, d'Eon
Denise (also spelled Denice, Daniesa, Denese, and Denisse)
Dennis, Denis or Denys (including the derivative surnames Denison and Dennison)
Denny
Nis (as of the Nordic surname Nissen)
Nils (Nicholas is another origin)
Dénes (Hungarian)
Bacchus (Roman)
Dionisio, Dyonisio (Filipino), Dionigi (Italian)
Διονύσιος, Διονύσης (Dionysios, Dionysis; Modern Greek)
Deniska (diminutive of Russian Denis, itself a derivative of the Greek)

NILS!!!

Imagine having one hundred eyes...

Darling readers (especially Shane and Sofie), here comes a post from a ghost. Ha ha, that was a completely spontaneous rhyme, which made a lot of sense in this context. I have been a blog ghost and for that I am sorry. I’m not going to make promises of writing every week from now on etc., but I WILL try to be a better blogger now that summer is gone and everyday life is back, which tends to include more internet time. Shanes’ philosophizing in the facebook-video made me realize and re-remember how inspiring and perspective-enhancing our communication from our different parts of the world is, and that I don’t want to be the blog-pooper (?).

Perspective heaven, it’s time to talk about Argus: my favourite Greek mythology character (credits to the Norwegian wikipedia site).

Argus Panoptes was a huge monster, with one hundred eyes covering his entire body (pan=many, optes=eyes). As we all probably know, Zeus – the king of the greek gods and the god of heaven and thunder – was a god with numerous feminine sexual acquaintances. One time Hera, who was Zeus’ very jealous wife, made Argus guard one of Zeus lovers. Zeus did of course not approve of this and Asked Hermes (the messenger of the gods and the god of trade and music) for help. Argus always used to let some eyes sleep while keeping some awake. In this way he could see all day and all night, letting nothing come past his vision. Hermes however had his silver flute, which had the power of putting things asleep instantly. He played his flute in front of Argus, and Argus’ hundred eyes fell asleep all at the same time (some versions say that Hermes put Argus to sleep with boring talk). This gave Hermes the opportunity to cut off the poor monsters' head, so that Zeus could have access to his mistress.

Later, Hera took all of Argus eyes and put them on the feathers of the peacock.

This story explains the expression “argus eyes” and well as why peacocks’ feathers have eyes on them.

Worries, Hockey, and Arugula

Dear Friends,

There's been some silence from my end on this blog too! I suppose no longer being unemployed in San Francisco has something to do with it. Anyway, it's school time again, but there was a wonderfully full and fun month in New York beforehand, and I'm confident that this year will be just as full and as fun, if a little bit more of the former than the latter.

Anyway, as maybe you know already, I worry a lot. Much of the time, it's unwarranted, but sometimes, it's warranted. I hate it when it's the latter case. These days, I've been worrying quite a bit.

I went to Toronto right before school started, which was lovely; before I left, I planted beets, carrots, arugula, lettuce, and chives in little milk crates in my front yard, a fall vegetable garden! (I planted them in the crates because of the possibility of lead contamination in the soil, which I have yet to send for testing.) When I got home, a mere four days later, they had already begun to come up. As I told you both, and as I wrote on my new Official School Blog (which is exciting but which will never replace Perspective Heaven), I took this as a good omen for the new school year. I think it was, because I biked all the way to school and back the next day without almost getting hit by a car even once.

But these days, Hurricane Gustav has struck quite mightily, and my poor little vegetable sprouts are drowning. I should have just taken them inside, but I didn't think of it in time. And the problem with calling something a good omen is that when it changes, you begin to think of it as a bad omen. As the rain pounded down yesterday, I watched Sarah Palin's RNC speech on Youtube. She's a good speaker; she was sarcastic, funny, and confident. I understand her appeal, to a certain demographic.

She's also a fucking psycho: believes that Creationism should be taught in public schools, is against abortion even if the mother is a victim of rape or incest or both whose life is in danger, supports off, has an environmental policy "so toxic it would make the incumbent, George Bush, blush," is gun-happy and (obviously) pro-war, and promotes converting gay people to heterosexuality through the power of prayer. Et cetera.

It's obviously a very particular demographic she appeals to; the very demographic Obama has so offended with his arugula and bitter comments (the latter of which Palin alluded to in her RNC speech, predictably). I think the question is just how important that demographic is going to be in this election, and that, I suppose, is the million dollar question. It was certainly important in the last election. A little shining hope I have, though, is that it's been very clear from the start that Obama has been mobilizing people to vote who have never voted before, people who have felt so disenfranchised by American society that they didn't consider it worth their time to show up at a polling booth. We have a very low voter turn-out rate, after all, comparable to India's at the time of Independence when something like 70% of the population was still illiterate!! So the demographics of the American voting pool are changing, with this election. I hope they change enough.

Sometimes I wonder if in my worry, I might be committing the same Obama-esque elitism and underestimating a great many people in small towns across America. I mean I'm from San Francisco, I live in New York, and I grow arugula in my own garden! I hope that I am, and come November, the majority of the country will see that this woman, whether you agree with her policies or not, is in no way fit to be one heart attack away from the most powerful position in the world. But I don't know. Unfortunately, Simon Woods agrees with me, and there are also letters like this one, which strike me as particularly ominous:

To the Editor:

Many of us who feel that Hillary Rodham Clinton was treated very poorly by the Democratic National Committee and Barack Obama’s campaign are delighted to see Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska as John McCain’s choice for vice president.

And yes, we are voting for Mr. McCain, because even though we are Democrats, we do not feel represented by the Obama-Biden ticket. There are 18 million voters who just might share this thought.

Joaquin Etcheverry

West Palm Beach, Fla., Sept. 1, 2008

We'll see, I guess. I miss India a little bit (like always), so I'm going to go eat Maggi and watch Monsoon Wedding. Love you guys.

Silence

Dear Friends and Other Readers,

I apologize for the major lack of blogging lately. I am working 9 - 5 every day, and when I'm not, I tend to stay in the sun, where there is no internet.
Also I guess the fact that we all met up in early June sort of caused the blog to get a bit superfluous for a while, considering we debated the world and other issues pretty much around the clock for a whole week. But now the longing for the good conversation has kicked in yet again, ironically because I was sitting outside my aunt and uncle's summer house where I am staying at the moment, alone, listening to the extreme silence of the waves hitting the shore a couple of meters away.
I love the silent sounds but I also love the good conversation.

I have been thinking about this lately because I have a summer project for school where I have to record how an interior changes from sunrise till sundown based on some external (environmental) factor and I decided to analyze sounds. It was amazing how sitting in my boathouse listening for a whole day made me realize that there are silent-sounds and noise-sounds. Like birds are silent sounds because they're always there, like the water against the boats, like the wind in the trees. Unlike the construction work our neighbors are doing at the moment and my mum's footsteps on the floor above, the noise-sounds.

Anyway, what do you think girls, do you listen to things? Like the cars on the street outside your flat, do they make silent-sounds or noise-sounds?

Here is my noise laboratory:

Shane Crochets

maroon&green peek-a-boo, originally uploaded by shanecrochets.

Well, I guess you already knew that; as Else and I recalled, I typed that very phrase into her cell phone the infamous night of "There's too much blood in my alcohol stream!" Anyway, all the delightful crocheting I did in the UK with you guys, as well as my current unemployment, has prompted me to take my hobby to the internet, and now I have started a new crochet blog for myself. I have also started a shop on Etsy, but so far, so bad. We'll see though. I guess it just takes some time, and in any case, it doesn't hurt to put things up there!
So I just wanted to share that. It most definitely does not mean that Perspective Heaven isn't my first love, though, just to clarify. And you should let me know what you think about the crochet blog and shop!
Love love.

Travel Guides for the Lost!

Once upon a time, Sofie and I dreamed of creating our own guide to India. We wrote it on notebook paper in Varanasi, beginning, most logically, with Paud.
Now, as I have told Else on Skype today, a friend of my dear friend Emily is going to spend next year in Pune! So I have excitedly scribbled this out for her:

pune - Upload a Document to Scribd

Read this document on Scribd: pune

It's a little unclear, because such is my spatial awareness and memory, but it was so fun and I thought maybe it would be fun for you guys to see it! Additions? Corrections?

Artemis, or, All about my Sister

Remember when we were going to make a series of posts about Greek mythology? I think we still should. Therefore, today's post is going to be about Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt, and also about my sister, Jil, because it was her birthday on Monday and I'd like to celebrate her, and also because if Jil were a Greek goddess, she would be Artemis.Artemis was the daughter of Zeus and Leto (a daughter of the Titans and one of Zeus' many lovers), and the twin sister of Apollo. She was all about contradiction: the goddess of the hunt, she spent her days chasing down animals and killing them, but was also considered their protector. This was a role she took seriously; for example, after Agememnon killed a stag in her sacred grove, she punished him by stalling his ships on their way to Troy and forced him to sacrifice his daughter in order that they might sail. More contradictory still, Artemis was a vehemently virgin goddess, yet was also worshiped in cities as a goddess of fertility and goddess of fertility and childbirth. Even in within the realm of the latter, she's paradoxical -- she's the protector of women in childbirth, but it's said to be her arrows that shoot them down when they die in labor.
Why is my sister like Artemis? Well, I guess she's contradictory too -- anyone interesting is. Artemis was the goddess of purity and, while hunting, she ran a lot, and Jil has recently embarked on a mission of purity that involves a lot of running. She's trying to detoxify herself in order to spend two months hiking through the New Zealand wilderness in the fall. According to pantheon.org, Artemis' "main vocation was to roam mountain forests and uncultivated land." Sounds like Jil alright.
But enough about Artemis. More about my sister. One thing you should know about my sister is that she's HILARIOUS. Cases in point:
1. Last winter, we were driving home from Lake Tahoe. My dad and I were sitting in front of the car and Jil was sitting in the back, filling out university applications. She was a little frustrated: "Fuck college!" she said. "It's not like I know my GDP or shit!"
2. A few days ago, my sister and I were in Santa Barbara visiting my grandfather. We were at the graveyard, looking at my grandmother's tombstone. My grandfather stood on the empty patch next to it and said, "Well, this is where I'm going to be buried." "Oooh!" said Jil. "Let's take before and after photos!"
3. That evening, my sister and I were hanging out at my aunt's house. I was sitting on the couch, crocheting, and she was lying on the bed with her legs up against the wall. She told me to think of a topic of conversation, and I asked what she wanted to talk about. "I don't know," she said. "Honestly, I'm only thinking about one thing right now." "What's that?" I asked. She replied: "How FUCKING tan my legs look against this wall!"
4. It's Pride week in San Francisco right now, and Jil was trying to convince me and her friend Cristina to accompany her to the dyke march this coming Saturday. "Come on, Cristina," she said. "I know my calculus. It says YOU + ME = DYKE."