Art before there were artists

Medieval border art is often presented as amusing trivia, as the whimsy of a bored copyist. I suggest the picture below some would so categorize. But is this explanation accurate?

It is possible that the composer of this picture, happy to be anonymous, believed himself to be rendering an accurate portrayal of the nature of man. We cannot speak of symbols in a world suffused with distinctions which unify. Let me point to the levels of man I propose this picture is meant to convey.

The dog, is the body of a man. Tough, effective in procuring the realities of food, and shelter.

The rabbit, in the saddle directing things, is man's emotional nature. Particularly astute since some see this layer as the source of the idea of sin.

And the preyer, a riff on the falcon, is the snail: the snail then is man's intellect. In its time, everyone got the joke, uneducated and clerical bigwigs alike. And they laughed, because they were comfortable in their own skins. And imbued with a vision of unity.

And this might be a good reading.

(Here's the  citation, something I rarely have to use, as a matter of principle.)

In Praise of Originality

If you NEED a translation, you will never know how accurate that text is.

The student, if so he calls himself, must have missed the point.

We refer here not just to a search for extra-terrestrial life: to look for a planet LIKE our own, is to miss entirely the gorgeous freshness which typifies our rocky perch.

Birds of a song

It is spring here, and the crows, a species of which the individuals are larger than your standard pigeon, continue their year round cawing. Their raucous cry is easy to identify. So is the mockingbird's sweet variations.  The crows will, in a group, harass hawks, for no doubt good reasons. Then they are against a blue sky, their black cursive selves streaks on a different board.

Sunday morning

This story about "the Bolivian Schindler"  reminds one that morality and goodness are not the same thing, not even especially connected.  Jesus knew this, Jan Cox also. Socrates may not have. I say this because of the account wherein Socrates refuses to flee, because, he honored the duty one owes to public officials.

Gravestones could be keys on a keyboard

Nice pictures at this link. They show instruments of flat stones,like xylophones, being struck to make music.
http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-mysterious-stone-instruments-that-keep-popping-up-in-vietnam

And to continue the article about "mysterious stone instruments", in a new direction:

Gravestones could be keys on a keyboard.

If so, that would not be original. SPEECH is the same thing. Because by the time the words are spoken, they refer to a past. There is no way to speak in the present tense--not "present" as in a current reality.

Spit and Run

From a brief perspective you could picture the goal of someone with a certain interest in the work Jan Cox sought to illuminate, as "hit and run." Hit and run thinking.

Yes we all do it. Yes we all do it most of the time, I would hazard. Most every moment. The goal then could be to, as soon as you recognize that tape running in your head, the words, -- you--get away. Exit the scene of the linguistic machinery. This means your escape is from words--- at least to lower their volume. A few seconds of escape may be enough to validate the quest. To vivify the effort.

The Shoulders of Giants

Quote:
. The polytheistic Etruscans had their own unique and distinct pantheon and practices, chief amongst which were augury (reading omens from birds and lightning strikes) and haruspicy....

This is from Ancient history Encyclopedia -- (http://www.ancient.eu/), their facebook page. The quote refers to practices begun before 500 BC.

The practises of augury are an early form of trying to understand one's life and world. Observing lightning strikes is not a spooky and benighted attempt to control destiny; it is an attempt to be objective. 

An objective approach to the world is not an modern invention. The idea that it is, suggests we are all still struggling to obtain objectivity, personally, and at a broader cultural level, today. If we cannot understand the gigantic contributions made by our forbearers, we cannot achieve a genuine appreciation of our times.