Philosophy, Thoughts, and Musings – Page 37

Why is the Crane on a Starry Field?

Though those of my lineage have no heraldic arms, I have taken as a personal emblem a crane on starry azure field, with a chief charged with three golden dragon flies. As a motto, I have adopted, Humilitatem Initium Sapientiae. A phoenix gold and red crest with gold and black mantling support the shield.

The crane was adopted as the central figure of my emblem because of its rich symbolism and because, simply, my Slovak surname translates into crane. The crane was placed on a starry field because I so oft look up in wonderment into the night skies. Indeed, I recall with regularity the beauty of the words from a small little text called the Christianica, which I was given decades ago by Father Richard for serving as a catechist at St. John Catholic Church in Albion, Michigan. In particular, I remember the following lines (a most felicitous juxtaposition of some verses from Psalms and Genesis) that have a particular resonance with me:

Lord, when I look at thy heavens, the work of they fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast established;/what is man that thou are mindful of him?/ Yet thou has made him little less than the angels and given him dominion over the works of they hands;/ thou has put all things under his feet.

Wonderment at the cosmos. Humility at our place in the cosmos.

**“Lord, when I look at thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou has established; what is man that thou art mindful of him?”**

I was further moved to place the crane on a starry sky when I read the Fable of The Crane and the Peacock by Avianus. Here is the full translation of the fable:

The story goes that Juno’s bird disparaged the Thracian fowl, when she shared their joint feeding ground. For a quarrel had arisen involving their different kinds of beauty and they were protracting a long argument on a case easy to settle. The peacock contended that the parts of his body gleamed in manifold loveliness, but that a dingy back gave the crane a dun colour, and at the word he arrayed about him the canopy of his uplifted tail and shot an arc of light upwards to the sky. The crane, though unable to rival the other in any glory of plumage, is nevertheless said to have used these words in mockery: “Countless may be the array of colours variegating your plumage, yet you, the wearer of the gaudy tail, are for ever kept close to earth. But I soar aloft into the air on my wing for all its ugliness, and am wafted nigh to the stars and heavenly powers.”

Avianus, Hadrian, Florus, Nemesianus, Reposianus, Tiberianus, Phoenix, Rutilius Namatianus. Minor Latin Poets, Volume II: Florus. Hadrian. Nemesianus. Reposianus. Tiberianus. Dicta Catonis. Phoenix. Avianus. Rutilius Namatianus. Others. Translated by J. Wight Duff, Arnold M. Duff. Loeb Classical Library 434. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1934, p. 705.

On the Advantages and Disadvantages of the Internet Era for the Naturally Curious: The Case of the Lion of Lyon on an Eighteenth Century Jeton

See the source image — **“In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.”**

Long ago a doctor observed that, in his opinion, I most certainly had an attention deficit disorder. He in particular noted that my habit of reading three or four or more books (each a few pages or chapters at a time) simultaneously rather than sequentially (one book in its entirety, one after another), sealed the deal, as it were, for his diagnosis. The reality now is even worse than the kind doctor could have imagined for in any book with end notes or foot notes, which I review most assiduously, I am often immediately diverted by the notes to hunt for additional relevant information. I hunt either in my library for the information or on the internet. I describe that hunt, and the ensuing hunts that usually result from the initial hunt, just as a tumble down a rabbit hole. For, you see, I tumble down rabbit holes in pursuit of knowledge almost daily, never considering how in the world I will get out again, just as blithely as Alice tumbled down her rabbit hole.

It happens easily enough, these tumbles. Consider the macro photograph of the AR jeton of Lyon which I posted about earlier. All things considered, the jeton was one of many items I was photographing that particular day merely to practice my photography skills. I was, in point of fact, attempting to develop my skills in lighting the coins which I was photographing with more precision and subtlety. I was not attempting to undertake any particular study of the individual items themselves. However, when I happened to glance at the photograph of the jeton, which is admittedly poorly lit overall (my skills are still inadequate and developing!), I was struck, as I had previously mentioned, by the presence of the lion’s phallus, which I had never noticed previously when viewing the jeton. This was not, in spite of the subject matter, a prurient observation, so much as an amused observation that the engraver would add such fine detail to the piece which is not readily visible to the naked eye. It was also a catalyst to further research (much like those cursed notes in a book). In short, I stumbled into a rabbit hole.

My curiosity was piqued, first and most naturally, as to whether the lion was generally depicted on the arms of Lyon in the 1750s in so anatomically correct a manner. Though my library does contain a number of heraldic works, those works do not include anything that would address French heraldry so, of course, I immediately went to the internet. Much to my pleasure and surprise, Wikipedia has a very robust and well researched entry on the arms of Lyon.

Wikipedia was kind enough to instruct me as to when Lyon was granted its arms and the various forms the arms have taken over the years. I learned many things, including how Lyon sided with the Royalists during the French Revolution and, for its efforts, was officially disestablished. I also learned that, after the restoration of the monarchy, the lion in the shield was shown carrying a sword to signify its combativeness against the revolution. A nice touch, to be sure. And, of course, with each change to the shield, and each twist of history, I went down another rabbit hole to learn the story behind the story. Before I knew it, several hours had gone by. I had learned many interesting things, none of which I had planned on learning that day. Indeed, none of which I would have even planned on learning that day if I had sketched the day out. As I recall, I was working on my photography skills that day and the jeton was merely a tool in that exercise.

My lack of discipline regarding the initial task at hand allowed me to be diverted for an extended period of time, but I learned much about topics that I shall likely never have occasion to visit again or otherwise put to productive use. I confess that I cannot much regret the experience, for it was enjoyable and all knowledge has value. Yet, I am convinced that I must develop a more rigorous schedule, so that even in retirement, I accomplish some of the projects that I have a mind to complete. I can only stumble down so many rabbit holes before the day, then the week, then the month, then the year, is lost.

Reflections on the Brevity of Life

“Long life, and short, are by death made all one; for there is no long, nor short, to things that are no more. Aristotle tells us that there are certain little beasts upon the banks of the river Hypanis, that never live above a day: they which die at eight of the clock in the morning, die in their youth, and those that die at five in the evening, in their decrepitude: which of us would not laugh to see this moment of continuance put into the consideration of weal or woe? The most and the least, of ours, in comparison with eternity, or yet with the duration of mountains, rivers, stars, trees, and even of some animals, is no less ridiculous.” -Montaigne

When I read the above passage in Montaigne’s Essays, especially the reference to the short lived creatures described by Aristotle, I thought of the incredibly short lived midges that make an appearance at my home every year. When they do, I have often reflected on the extreme brevity of their time among us, and then by extension, our equally brief time among the cosmos. And yet, at the same time, reflecting on the mundane midge, and the brevity of their and our own vitality, I am amazed nonetheless, and rejoice at the wonderment of it all.