An interesting path...

Recently I took a course that focused on Renaissance art and the history of the tarot. The instructor is an art historian, jewellery designer, and artist. His name is Robert M. Place and he is also a well-respected tarot historian and deck designer. I came to know him in a round about way.

While browsing in a used book store, I came across an intriguing tarot deck. It was bound only by a single rubber band, with no box or ‘little white book’ to indicate the title of the deck, but I fell in love with the artwork. The images were unfamiliar and seemed to resonate with me, so I bought the deck and managed to track down the name after all. It turned out to be the Alchemical Tarot, illustrated by none other than Robert M. Place. Funny how things in life like that happen. It turns out he is a warm, compassionate person and has even granted me permission to use his images in my tarot readings. His artwork has a simplicity in design that I enjoy from an aesthetic view and it reminds me of the woodcut printing style from the middle ages. And as always with the tarot, each card is replete with symbolism, and his deck is no exception.

The two-part course focused on the historical aspects of the art in the tarot and the influence of the art movement as the Renaissance was beginning. And the wonderful thing about this course is that where I started is not where I ended up at all! I love when that happens. We covered the true history of the tarot and compared the images from the earliest decks and managed to end the first night looking at a picture of the ‘heavenly spheres’, and the philosophical aspects of this construct. It was during the Hellenistic period that the concept of these spheres was posited- much like the layers of an onion. The layers encased the earth. Each sphere was a step on the ladder. Seven steps up, or seven steps down, depending on one’s direction. The goal was to move from vice to virtue.

Within this construct also arose the notion of ‘music of the spheres’, which was not really music at all, not like we know music today. No, this ‘music of the spheres’, of the sun, the moon, and the planets was a mystical, mathematical, and philosophical construct. It was based on how the planets moved about the earth and how they were geometrically related and perfect, all seven heavenly bodies in a celestial song, with a mathematical resonance that was at once perfect and divine.

Here is the interesting part- a sort of ‘synchronicity’ in my studies: At the time I took the class, I had also been reading Johannes Kepler’s biography and how he had been working to prove the earth was in motion around the sun and mathematically he knew the movements were elliptical instead of spherical. And eventually he wrote “Harmonice Mundi”, or “Music of the World”. He understood the original theory of harmony based on Pythagorean mathematics (as described in a book written by Galileo Galilei’s musician father, Vincenzo). There was a harmony to the universe and the planets themselves- known as the “Harmony of the Spheres”. I was so intrigued by this concept I found a copy of Kepler’s work (a translation with introduction by Stephen Hawking) but I could not understand much of it for the mathematics were far beyond my reach. It was incredibly frustrating. Since I don’t understand the language of math it felt like I was missing out on something mysterious and incredible.

So you see, the path was one from art and symbolism, to ‘music’, to mathematics. How interesting that these things are interwoven, especially when one looks at all aspects of a particular era of history. Each history includes philosophy, politics, religion, the arts, the sciences, all of which are juxtaposed against the backdrop of the social fabric of the time. Of course, the more I read, the more I learn. But with this comes the realization that really, I know so very little, which simply spurs me on to continue my own independent study.


Image: by William Cunningham, The Cosmographicall Glasse, London 1559.

The Ocelot

Earlier this year I took a vestibular rehabilitation course. We were discussing clinical indicators as they relate to the visual system which is neurologically tied to the vestibular apparatus. When the professor discussed "oscillopsia" my mind went off on a tanget all its own! Oscillopsia is a condition where the eyes cannot focus and everything in the visual field appears to oscillate, the effects of which can be mild to severe. It is not the least bit fun. But, from this lecture arose this silly poem.

The Ocelot

Hidden in the wild lives a shy Ocelot
With big yellow eyes, he is covered in spots a lot.
He lives and plays beneath the sweet melilot,
This is a tale of how he became quite distraught.

Ocelot noticed his vision was not quite right
Everything looked blurry and bouncy- what was wrong with his sight?
He had trouble seeing by day, and even more so by night
With everything doubled and trebled, it gave him quite a fright.

Ocelot travelled to consult with the smartest and best
He underwent tests in the east and in the west
Enduring each procedure in the name of his quest
When it was all over, he quietly curled up and took a long rest.

The doctors convened, wearing crisp white coats
They scratched their heads and cleared their throats
They had listened and looked with their specialty scopes
But finding the cause of the problem seemed beyond all hope

Ocelot tried to remain cheerful, and carefully crept out of the room
Desperate and despondent, he had to find a cure, and soon
So he set out for the jungle under light of the moon
But with his vision in treble, his ship was marooned

Morning dawned bright, making Ocelot blink,
He had to get his bearings, he had to stand up to think
There was no time for sorrow; he had to get his vision in sync
Besides, as he stood there, he realized there was a terrible stink!

He followed his nose, taking small steps to steady himself
And there, under the flowers and leaves, near a low wooden shelf
Ocelot spied what looked like a wobbly, crinkly, wrinkly old elf
Who took one look at Ocelot and knew he needed help.

“Frenzel’s my name, and I know quite a lot.
There is magic and mystery in my potions and pots.
To figure it out I will examine your eyes and check out your spots,
I will cure your condition, of which the doctors learned naught”.

“Well, I can rule out chlamydia, eclampsia, and diarrhea (!)
It’s not dropsey or hydrops, or even tospy turvia,
What you have is special, so let me share with you my idea:
You, my dear Ocelot, have a clear case of oscillopsia!
“The syndrome you have is named after Dandy
For cases like yours, I have a modus operandi
I will give you the treatment, which is really quite handy
But the best news of all is we can treat it with candy!”

His troubles are now over, which means quite a lot
Remembering to take his once daily 'oscillopsipop'
Ocelot has sprung back to shape and is feeling tip top
He spends his days playing, and pouncing, and purring a lot!

~DR

An exchange of ideas...

Recently I had a brief email exchange with a scientist friend of mine. He is a computational physicist and I am a dreamer, so you can imagine the questions I have for him. We were discussing symmetry and perfection as it relates to the ideas of the Greeks. Plato saw symmetry as a reflection of perfection. This comment came from my questions as to why the Greeks held the Platonic solids to a near mystical status. It was becaus of symmetry and beauty. Then it made me think of the beauty and design of our universe.

Then my friend commented that "advances in fractal mathematics and chaos theory have rejuvenated the concept of magnificent order in the universe. Even in the most chaotic of systems there is mathematical predictability. Order implies intention or design. Design requires a Designer". I wrote back and told him his comment of ‘Design requires a Designer’ is so apt with many of the historical (and current!) ideas waiting for us to explore. Like the celestial crystal spheres of the Ptolemaic times, eventually shattered by Copernicus, Galileo, and Kepler, the atomic theory of Bohr is a perfect example of the “As above, so below” principle. His atomic model of the atom was the macrocosm in microcosm. A perfectly ordered world at the atomic level.

Like the scientific revolution that occurred near the time of the Renaissance, there was another revolution that occurred at the beginning of the twentieth century of equal importance. Sommerfeld, Pauli, Heinrich, Einstein, Bohr, et. al. were discovering an ever smaller universe at the atomic level. Pauli postulated the neutrino 30 years before it was proven. He believed there to be a fourth quantum number, but could not visualize it. He likened himself to be similar to Kepler. Both shared what was newly termed by Jung in 1913 the “collective unconscious” and each had an intuitive sense that there was more than they were able to prove. For Kepler, it was the force of gravity (or the ‘fifth element’), but his work laid the path for Newton. Pauli was obsessed with the fine structure constant his mentor Sommerfeld had discovered. This obsession lead him into treatment with Carl Jung, in whom he found a soul of similar light and passion, but with the intuitive aspects that he had been missing, but suspected were there in his work.

Wolfgang Pauli was very unlucky in love. By day he was a brilliant physicist, admired by his colleagues, and celebrated by Einstein. Pauli made huge contributions to his field, challenged his contemporaries (Niels Bohr among them), and worked relentlessly to solve some of the most intriguing mysteries of the universe. By night he caroused the bars, haunted the red light districts, and fell into the arms of dance hall women. He was so tormented at his lack of success with women he eventually became a patient of Carl Jung. As they got to know each other, they became friends and eventually collaborated on a book. Both were fascinated by the number 137, the fine structure constant of the universe. A number without dimension. A number, that if changed by even four percent, life as we know it could not exist. This slight change could destroy all of the carbon and oxygen in every star of the universe and life on our planet could not exist or would be dramatically different.

How amazing it all is, really. The term Elegant Universe definitely applies.

Here is a secret wish of mine. I want to go study at the University of Toronto. They offer a degree called the “History and Philosophy of Science and Technology”. I have wanted to take that course of study for the past 15 years, but it is not in the cards for me. So, I just read a lot about it all. It would be nice to have someone to talk about these things with to hear other opinions outside of my own. Plus, need someone to help me understand the importance of numbers and why the work they way they do.

Confessions of a bibliophile...

In every room of our home there are shelves lined with books. It is a collection that continues to grow and represents a lifetime of a love affair with books. There are easily thousands of books; I counted them once. But as I sat one Sunday morning, enjoying a mug of peppermint tea, I began to wonder. I wondered how many hours were spent writing the millions of words in the books that line the shelves in our home. Hundreds of hours, easily; thousands, certainly. Millions? Perhaps. How much time was spent dreaming, scheming, plotting, sketching, writing, re-writing, editing, and reading? Certainly writing a book is a labour of love.

The books that line our shelves tell many stories… some true, some imaginary. The books also tell the story of our life- first separate and then together. Collectively, our books have become mingled and are nicely no longer ‘yours’ or ‘mine’; they are ‘ours’. What a wonderful transition. They tell of our interests, our passions, our wonderings, and our longings. They represent the many stages of our lives and give us a visual inventory of the many things that have crossed our minds. Our interests are diverse yet the books have sparked many hours of intriguing discussion and respectful debate.

There are the books about travel… when I had a wanderlust for countries other than my own. There are books of adventure… for the armchair mountain climbing enthusiast I had become. There are books on science and nature… to fulfill my curiosity of the world around me, at the microscopic and macroscopic level. Quantum physics and string theory are fascinating topics and sit proudly on the shelves, right next to the philosophical tomes pondering the reason for all things. There are books about stars and the cosmos; books about men who were imprisoned for their ideals and books about how the Flat Earth Society fell from grace.

There are books about God, books about the afterlife, about angels, about prayer, about civilization long before Jesus was born. There are even some bibles. There are bibles in English and Russian; there is even an illustrated Children’s Bible. Depending on my mood, I can revel in the formal beauty of the King James Version, or I can read the lessons in the New International Version language, which is more informal and quite contemporary. There are encyclopaedias about life in biblical times, books about biblical geography; a biography of Sarah, and one of Moses. The collection of these books reads more like a bibliography held by a religious scholar than for a curious reader who was encouraged to not get involved in religion when growing up.

There are books about pyramids and the magical number Pi. There are tales of wonder and beauty… from the Great Wonders of the World, to the Illuminated Book of Kells. Books of calligraphy are shelved near books on the Japanese art of origami. There are books of fairy tales, tall tales, folk tales, and an Encyclopaedia of Imaginary Places! Ghost stories from modern times and from Victorian times reside there; as do stories of science fiction from the 1930’s. Horror is there also, juxtaposed by stories of true crime. Sometimes what is fiction and what is fact are not as clearly drawn as real and imaginary characters are capable of things beyond our wildest imaginings.

On the shelves are books that will tell you how to make money and invest it. Books that tell what trends are coming and books that tell us how to simplify and give up what the mass marketing gurus have convinced us to buy. Keep it Simple, and Simple Abundance reminds us of how little we really need. When we have had enough of the fast-paced, hectic world, we can stop and read stories that are like old-fashioned chicken soup; these stories offer a cup of comfort and nourishment for the soul.

When we feel like it, we can go back in history and read famous letters and speeches. We can read treatises from some of the world’s most powerful leaders and the greatest cowards. We can glimpse into the past through a biography of a young girl who remained hidden within the walls of a neighbours home while she blossomed into a young woman, only to be betrayed and then die before her freedom was granted. We can cheer for the troops as we read about their bittersweet homecoming. They were glad to be home while at the same time heartbroken that they were forced to bury their comrades on foreign soil. They remind us of the beautiful feeling of the warmth and comfort a woman’s body can give when held pressed close while fighting off the cold sweats that come with the nightmares as they are haunted by the memory of those they left behind. There is wisdom in the written word shared by a woman who learned the ways of the world, who shares the richness of her experience through eyes that could not see and ears that could not hear.

There are books of poems and sonnets and plays. They are filled with words written to give our hearts a voice. There are words to describe the indescribable: joy, sorrow, hunger, pain, longing and lust. Heavy words of leaden moments offer searing truth. Other words of ethereal gossamer encourage our imaginations to drift to places as gentle as the mists that cling to the craggy mountain-tops in an imaginary land, free to ebb and flow on the currents of the winds of imagination. There are alliterations and illusions, tricks of imagery and sorcery to take us beyond the everyday mundane to places of dizzying heights and then safely back down again.

There are books that can tell us how to make things and fix things, how to buy things, and how to sell things. Some of these books give us the history of everyday things, and there are even books that explain seemingly unexplainable things. Miles of lists and piles of trivia keep us entertained and give interesting glimpses into the biggest, the tallest, the largest, the smallest, the oldest, the youngest of any person, place, or thing. These books contain the most obscure, and useless facts which have been painstakingly researched, organized, and catalogued.

Some books show us how to improve on our hobbies, chock full of creative ideas and interesting perspectives on topics ranging from gambling on cards and horses, to how to deconstruct a massive crossword puzzle, to how to string beads and knit fabric. We have spent many happy hours reading about our favourite activities which bring a greater sense of satisfaction to our everyday lives.

These many books have been collected over the decades, both before and since our lives came together. They are now a record of us. We have spent time browsing through dusty, disorganized bookstores, seeking treasures in the wildest places. We have also browsed through bookstores that are neatly organized, like ‘used-book libraries’, so meticulous and lovingly have the owners paid homage to the written word. We have had the good fortune to travel to bookstores across the country, in big and small towns, always finding something that we just had to bring home and add to our personal library.

The books we have collected have now become part of our family… our own little library we visit time and time again. They are lined up on the shelves, ready to share their riches. They keep us company on cold winter nights with topics for warm conversation as a perfect accompaniment to a whiskey served neat and a gently puffed pipe. The hours spent writing them are given back ten-fold by the hours we spend enjoying them.
Without them our lives would somehow be very empty indeed.