man cave

BLDGBlog shares an interesting feature article on the system of subterranean warehouses and supply-dens that the US has catacombed in Norway and other places on the periphery of the American Military Empire and the challenges for accounting for all these hidden stashes, that allow the military to deploy anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice with front-loaded equipage. In characteristic fashion, BLDGBlog also shares some clever and insightful commentary on the exercise, speculating that it is akin to the pharaohs including all the comforts and luxury of the living in their tombs—or of a back-up copy of France being created in China.
Formerly, during the land-grabs and claim-jumping of the colonial powers, control of remote lands, like Diego Garcia, Saint Helena, Tristan da Cunha, the Falklands, Gibraltar, Hawaii, Alaska and countless guano-islands for refueling, shore-leave and to maintain a sphere of influence—all of which seems a bit more adoring (if less invasive) than something hidden and under perpetual lease.

it happened on the way to the forum: opiate for the masses

After the divine disappearance of Rome's founder and first king, the quite polar-opposite figure of Numa Pompilius was elected as monarch.

This tradition of nominating kings, though absolute rulers for life, and sometimes reluctant ones, is a marked statement in the fable of Rome, as opposed to hereditary rule and divine-right, which seemed to court disaster among other nations. Numa's vastly different vision and direction also offers some explanation for the Romans' pathetic beginnings. Sabine by birth, maybe as an apology for abducting the tribe's women and compared to Romulus, Numa was an a disciplined æsthetic soul. Being called out of retirement and much content to take long walks in the countryside and converse with the gods, the new king sought to turn the fledgling city away from battle and towards peace and introspection, culling a concord that lasted throughout his reign until the posture of Rome suffered another inversion.

Drawing from influences from the Greeks and the Etruscans to the north, Numa created the Roman religion and embellished the panoply with superstition and ritual that were to endure throughout the Roman civilisation. To occupy the standing-army that Romulus had created and to placate the populace, Numa invented a host of obligations and prestigious offices, including that of the the chief priest, Pontifex Maximus (the great bridge-builder, which is a title that the popes of Rome carry to this day), calendar reform and the cults of useful gods, like Terminus, the god of boundaries, and Janus, the two faced deity of war and peace that looked forwards and backwards.  Numa's institution were enduring and the following semi-legendary kings of Rome, seven in all, contributed to the Roman ideal and waxed between war and peace, until Lucius Tarquinis Superbus (the Proud) whose abuses caused the citizenry to reject all monarchs and spurred the creation of the republic, though far from democratic in its practices—though kept together in part due to inherited piety.

know thy selfie

Writing for Aeon magazine, philosopher Simon Blackburn delivers a thorough and thoughful analysis on the differences among vanity, narcissism and self-esteem and the interplay that too often results from the misapprehension of one for another. Bravery to do the needful is one thing—else we would too easily wither away from those challenges that we ought to confront, but the hubris that comes with never courting any real resistance or dissent is quite another, and particularly treacherous when it comes to assaying those things that are not instantly condemned or applauded, like leadership and relationships. Rather than acknowledging that pride and over-confidence has made us prone for a fall, praise for ourselves and for those kindred—who'll echo that praise, quickly turns into arrogance. If the first few sentences were not scathing enough, the spectres of all the great thinkers of the past become an absolute haunt, hopefully to disabuse us from our vanities—not for accomplishment but for admiration. What do you think? Does the medium rather make something harmless—or even invert them into something of a vulnerable catharsis?

everything zen

Free to download, there is an engaging application meant, rather than provide another distraction, to sharpen one's focus and induce relaxation—perhaps mindfulness, through zen exercises in the form of bio-feedback. I think that this is something worth a try. ॐ

it happened on the way to the forum: regnum romanum

The podcast is dead; long live the podcast. Searching for something to make the long commutes home pass a little quicker—and without the distraction of giving lip-service to learning a new language with those audio-lessons, I rediscovered a cache of podcasts, easy too download and enjoy on the drive on some really engrossing subjects. There are hundreds of episodes (possibly discontinued) available at no cost, which are far from dry lectures, which cover the entire history, from legendary beginnings, the monarchy, the new republic, the imperium and downfall—with lots of exciting cliffhangers and interesting asides. Just at the start of this adventure, I was really impressed with the stories of the early, semi-legendary kings and the highly moralising and indemnifying way the fables had been crafted over the millennia to make a myth of civic-pride and belonging. I really did not know what stories the Romans made for themselves to mark the transition from the sack of Troy to recorded history, but the tale picks up with Prince Aeneas and the other refugees from Troy received as guests by the kingdom of Alba Longa in central Italy, and the king of the Latins weds his daughter to the exiled prince, whose ancestors rule the land for generations.
Familial strife came around when the brother of the rightful king took control of the treasury, including the gold brought from Troy and installed himself as ruler. In order to prevent any heirs from reclaiming the thrown, the uncle had the king's daughter locked away and sworn to celibacy. The gods had other plans, however (and this is really one of the few times that there is divine intervention in the human affairs of Rome), and the god Mars—or according to some sources, the demi-god Hercules—sired twins by the king's daughter. Outraged, the uncle ordered the children drowned in the Tiber by a huntsman—although the river was low at the time and the huntsman was loath to slog through the mud and so just left the twins in a basket. The babies were found by a She-Wolf and a Woodpecker (possibly an ancestor of the twins transformed into a bird for rebuffing the amorous advances of the witch Circe) who took care of them, until a shepherd and his wife found them and raised them as their own. Eventually word of these wonder-twins got back to the wicked uncle and he decided to investigate. Cued into the truth about their birthright, Romulus and Remus, as they were called, defeated the wicked uncle and restored their grandfather to his rightful place. While the could have inherited Alba, the twins wanted to found a new settlement, Romulus opting for the Palatine Hill and Remus for the Aventine. Having learnt the art of augury from Pictus the Woodpecker, they proposed to settle the matter that way.

When Remus refuses to relent to his brother's interpretation, however, much like his wicked uncle, Romulus kills him and goes on to found the City of Rome and establish its first political and military institutions—the Senate of Patricians, descendants of the Trojan refugees, and the Legions, a militia where rank is bestowed by what kind of horses, weapons and armour each can afford to bring to defence (and offence) of the city. Having gotten off to this start, Rome's neighbouring tribes did not want anything to do with the new city, including Alba Longa, fearful that Romulus would to try usurp more power. In order to grow in size and strength, increasing the population which only consisted of bureaucrats and soldiers at that point, Romulus began inviting in any and all of the dispossessed—and pirates, thieves, highwaymen, mercenaries and other unsavoury exiles came to the new city to start over. It was a good ploy to grow the new city but as the immigrant population was exclusively male, Romulus realised that the city would soon wither away. As bringing in more personae non grata made the Romans even less desirable, Romulus concocted a plan to abduct wives for his people. A bit of trickery similar to Odysseus' Trojan Horse, Roman announced a huge feast to celebrate the god Neptune and invited all the local tribes as a gesture of good-will. Many came, including the Sabines, who were strictly against inter-marriage. At the height of the party, the Romans advanced on the Sabine women and tried to steal them away. Their husbands, fathers and brothers quickly came to the rescue and intense fighting followed. The women then through themselves into the fray, standing in between fighting Roman and Sabine, imploring them to stop the fighting and offering themselves to their Roman abductors, proclaiming that they would rather die themselves than live as orphans or widow-makers.
This did not, of course, go over so well either but the Kingdom of Rome saw its founding. I wondered why Rome would choose (if it had a choice in the matter) to have such unscrupulous beginnings with expatriates, fratricide, a citizenry of brigands and rape, when they could have limned a more flattering and authoritative origin. Maybe this license becomes clearer in episodes. It is also pretty remarkable how Rome was built in a day—in terms of its signature and guiding organisations at least, but I suppose that that is pretty common for the semi-mythical. If it is not already the case, I suspect that people—five-hundred years from now, will have forgotten about the pantheon of America's Founding Fathers and be satisfied knowing only this George Washington, who was born of a Cherry Tree—with the wooden teeth to prove it—and single-handedly defeated the British and wrote the US constitution and the Republic emerged whole, like Athena bursting from the head of Zeus, fully-formed. Romulus' reign lasted about forty-years and was assumed into the realm of the gods—deified as Quirinius, the embodiment of Rome—while making a public sacrifice.

unkraut or worldwide weed

Surviving the past three winters or so, exposed on the balcony, is a venerable old dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) that one day took up root in this since vacated pot. Even after the monk and botanist Gregor Mendel developed the theory of heredity by selecting for visible and measurable traits over successive generations of peas in a pod in the mid-1800s, many people still held to the once popular theory of spontaneous generation: that flies and worms and other vermin did not have natural parentage and arose out of the slime and muck and generally poor house-keeping.
I wonder if people believed the same about weeds (Unkräuter)—although the concept of weeds in gardening is a relatively new invention and heretofore certainly was not applied to the dandelion. The common and polite name for the flower does not have anything to do with its yellow bloom that some might find reminiscent of a lion's mane, but it is rather a corruption of the French for teeth of the lion, for its jagged leaves. That seems a little less iconic, but the modern name is a euphemism (Greek for “a holy silence”) its old reputation, when still considered Kraut—an herb with medicinal properties, rather than some worthless, old Unkraut. Originally, the plant was called in French pissenlit—wet the bed—because it was a diuretic, and native to all parts of the earth, there were many colourful, local variations on that phenomena. Being the lingua franca, it sought to clean up the world's vocabulary a bit. A similar sort of mannerly substitution occurred in English by inventing the words donkey and rooster to avoid saying something offensive. Tending a few weeds should cause no alarm, no matter the company.