Thank You, 2024 Edition

 In what has become an annual tradition (apparently since 2019 - who knew?), I like to take the last post of the year to thank you, my readers.

Actual readership numbers are always something that at best have been somewhat difficult to assess on Blogger - yes, I can pull up daily, weekly, monthly, annual and even "all time" readership, but I have no real idea what that means.  In some cases those are quick hits and departures, on occasions they spike (highest number of views was on 26 October with 6,600) probably due to an unintentionally provocative title on my part or ending up on a "list" somehow - but somewhere in there is a regular readership of some form and fashion.

All writers write to be read by someone, somewhere.  And that seems to be getting a little less likely every year, it seems.  Part of the reason is that the focus of the InterWeb has shifted from long form writing to short form "social media" or posts that emulate it.  Part of it also seems to be due to the fact that those who write such things - especially for money - are finding their incomes dropping with an apparent change in advertising algorithms that seem to be reducing advertising income on a great many sites (Not just on Blogger:  The Tube of You content creators and even dedicated Websites like The Art of Manliness have noted this), which encourages them to either stop writing or to start things like subscription only models like SubStack.  And finally, there is an aspect of generational readership that reads such things, a readership which I suspect leans largely to the "older" side of things.

It is not a complaint of course; like it or not we must take reality as it presents itself.  Which makes every reader all the more precious.

And so once again, thank you.

Thanks for taking the time out of your one and precious life to spend some time with me - be it regularly or periodically.  Thanks to those that are comfortable and willing to comment.  Thanks to those who never comment but persevere in reading.

Thanks for heroically sticking with me and what I write, no matter how unplanned or turgid it might be.

I will spare us all the year in review (it has been mentioned more than once this month), but this was obviously not the year I intended to have at all.  What in some ways made it bearable (and continues to do so) is the fact that I have an outlet that I can (within limits of reason) lay out what is on my mind and heart - "wearing my heart upon my sleeve for the jackdaws to peck at", as Iago states in Othello. I have stated more than once that this serves as both journal and therapy for me.

I cannot claim I know what 2025 will bring, although one hopes for a bit more stability than 2023 and 2024. But stable or not,  I will be here with undoubtedly new adventures, observations, and perhaps even the occasional coherent thought.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you so very much.

Your Obedient Servant, Toirdhealbheach Beucail

There Is No Place Like (New) Home For The Holidays

For Christmas this year, I was able to head back to New Home (many thanks for your patience in my responses to comments).  It was good, but it was definitely not the visit I had anticipated having.

Christmas itself was delightful and leisurely as they have come to be.  We were up far earlier than Nighean Bhan and Nighean Dhonn (not sure when that reversal of rising happened, but it is real) and unpacked our stockings - in a first, Old St. Nick was helped by each family member choosing another family member for a stocking, which resulted in some nice surprises.  Breakfast was our traditional monkey bread (biscuit dough covered in brown sugar and baked) and quiche, followed by the opening of gifts and a conversation with Nighean Gheal in South Korea - this year's gifts included long sleeved shirts (for New Home 2.0), books (what a surprise), and various and sundry small surprises (including a portable CD/DVD drive for my computer so I can watch movies and play games).  The afternoon passed with off and on Christmas special viewing, reading, and general lackadaisical behavior.

But the real surprise - when it hit me, sometime on Christmas Day - was that this was really going to be my last visit "home".

Oh, not home in the sense I am never going back (I have a graduation to attend in May).  But "home" in the sense that the next time I go back, it will not be the place that I and The Ravishing Mrs. TB will dwell.

Part of that was hinted at through the week:  all the empty space in the house where our furniture now in New Home 2.0 used to be, things missing there that I used to use regularly, the pickup of the car by the third party (leaving me effectively car-less, a true visitor relying on others for transport).  Part of it was looking around and seeing things that I had worked on removed:  The garden area has been stripped of its fence and posts with nothing growing there, the garage half empty with a very few things that I needed to decide on, my closet space already beginning to occupied by Nighean Bhan's clothes once we move out.

On one hand, it prompted me to take care of some outstanding issues that had really waited for months or years for me to resolve:  packing up seeds and grain into Mylar pouches with oxygen reducers to transport, identifying the few things in the garage that I needed to make sure were either retained or thrown away, finding all the work that will need to be done on the house after we leave, work that I had kind of "let go" and not attended to during my time there.

On other hand, it left me with a sense of finality.

Given my experiences to date, it is likely unwise of me to proclaim we might never live there again:  Nighean Bhan may very well make her home there and the attraction of potential grandchildren may be too much to resist for The Ravishing Mrs. TB (well, to be fair, maybe for me as well).  At the same time, the paucity of visits being reduced to once every six months or so left no other conclusion that the reality that in a real sense, I was no longer a resident.  I was a visitor.

I am not sure why this discovery surprised me, but it did.  The math has all been there - I had not been back since July of this year to move the rabbits and would not be back again until May of next year.  But somehow,  despite all of that, I still somehow held in my soul that this was still in some way my "home".  It was not, really:  life had moved on and somehow I had not moved with it.

Perhaps it was because the only other experience I have had is Old Home, which is where I grew up and so somehow never felt like I had left.  But that is not really true of New Home:  it was a place I lived and had a lot of good experiences in but where I do not live anymore.  

What a surprise to go back and find out that the uprooting you have felt over the last 9 months really was that:  an uprooting, not just a change in scenery.

He Who Busies Himself

 

On Small Businesses

One of things one gets when on InstaPic is postings of things that The Almighty Algo believes you would like to see.  One of these - I cannot remember if it was in a rabbit post or just showed up - was an artist that drew rabbits (I know -you are shocked that this attracted my attention).  The drawings was simple and told a story.  And then there was another one.  And another one.  It turns out he produced some picture every day.  His name is Will Quinn (website here).

He became an artist I subscribed to.  Every day he posts a rabbit; every day now I get up looking for it.  At one point - in October of this year - he posted that he was selling calendars of his drawings.  They are cute and something that I thought would appeal to Nighean Gheal, so I ordered one.  In the order I noted that I was hopeful that I could receive it soon, as I was going to see her in a few weeks (for the Master Sergeant's funeral, as it turned out).  I waited, the Master Sergeant's funeral passed - no calendar.  I was not terribly upset - after all, it was short notice.

The calendar arrived this week.  In it was a note from Mr. Quinn, apologizing that he could not get the calendar to me sooner and by way of apology, providing a couple of additional small pictures - so now I have three to provide to each of my children.

The note and offering touched me - not just because of the gift, but that he had taken the time out of his day to care enough to "make good" on something that was merely a request from someone he had never met.

Looking at his note, it made me consider the fact that, on the whole, I find myself dealing with small businesses more and more.

Another one I now purchase coffee from is Binky Bun Coffee.  They were originally a find from my local independent rabbit supply shop (yes, such a thing exists).  Sure, I can get a great deal more coffee for the price at Costco, but I do not get 15% of my purchase donated to a rabbit rescue. And I do not get personal handwritten notes thanking me for my purchase (and an occasional sticker)  Is it less coffee?  Sure.  But it means that it is something I savor and drink less of overall now (apparently the fancy pod coffee thing that came out with me includes a unit that you can pre-load with your own grind), which - given my blood pressure - is probably not a bad thing.

I compare this with the plethora of packages that have magically appeared at my door over the last two weeks (I have become the receiving destination for gifts):  random packages, dumped on my doorstep (sometimes literally in the dead of night) with no notes, no extras.  There is no sense of connection; it remains a transaction, nothing more.

Do both options provide jobs?  They do, and undoubtedly the people that drop off my packages at some level are not bad people either.  But one experience makes me good after shopping; the other just gives me the thing without any joy.

Can I do this for everything that I buy?  Likely not of course:  we just simply are not longer there as a society.  But everything I can do, every small business I shop at, pushes back that sense of soulless commercialism just a bit.

How odd that - once again -something that we used to take for granted has become a novelty

2024 Turkey: Semā

We are leaping a little forward in our itinerary, but given that we had just finished our visit to the Tomb of Rumi and the Sultanhani Caravanserai, this entry seemed make more sense here (and round out the theme).  In this case we are now in Kappdokia (English Cappdocia), where we are headed next.

One of the opportunities we had as an "add on event" was to see a , or Devish Ceremony.  As you might remember, the Mevlevi Dervish order was banned in Turkey in A.D. 1925; however, it is still allowed to "exist" as a cultural property.  This demonstration, therefore, was intended as a cultural demonstration only (although given the nature of ceremony and the practitioners, I would argue it was much more to them).

The ceremony took place in another Seljuk caravanserai -in this case the Saruhan Caravanserai, built in A.D. 1249 by the Seljuk Sultanate.  Although smaller than the Sultanhani, it gave just the right atmosphere to the ceremony.

What we came to see is the Semā, the ceremony of the dervishes (semazen) which (per the pamphlet we received) "..represents an entire mystical journey, a spiritual ascent through love, which the dervish deserts his ego, finds the truth and arrives at 'The Perfect'". Having come back "...he returns from this spiritual journey as a man who has reached maturity and a greater perfection, so as to love and be of service to the whole creation, to all creatures without discriminating in regard to belief, class, or race."

While ceremony was completely without photography or video, the dervishes (or so they are in my mind) kindly gave us a short follow-on for pictures and video.

(Author's note:  The following is based both on the pamphlet provided and more information via Wikipedia here.)

The ceremony itself is divided into seven parts:  The "Nat-i Şerif", or eulogy, to the Prophet Muhammed and to all the prophets before him.  Next comes the "Kum-Be", a drum sound to symbolize the creation.  The third is an instrumental improvisation on the ney, a flute (of which we saw examples at the Tomb of Rumi), representing the first breath which gave breath to all life.  Next is the Greeting, where they greet each other by crossing their hands over their chest and bowing to themselves and to the Sheikh, which symbolizes souls saluting souls concealed by shapes and bodies.

The fifth part is the actual whirling (the Semā).  The dervishes shed their outer robes of black (hirka) symbolizing death and the grave and reveal robes and jackets of white (tennūre and destegül) the shroud of ego.  On his head he wears a brimless headdress (siekke), symbolizing the tombstone of ego.  

At this time they walk to the floor, begin walking in a circle, and then begin whirling in the same circle.  During the dance, their right hand is held up to receive God's beneficence, the left hand turned downward to the earth to channel that beneficence to the earth.  The right foot propels them in a counterclockwise motion 360 degrees as they silently chant God's name.  The purpose of this, per the pamphlet, is for "conveying God's spiritual gift to the people upon whom God looks with a Divine watchfulness.  Revolving around the heart, from right to left, he embraces all of humankind, all the creation with affection and love".

There are four salutes, or "Selams".  They represent man's birth to truth by feeling and mind, the rapture of man witnessing the splendour of creation, the dissolution of the mind into love and the sacrifice of love, and the return of the dervish to the earth.

The service concludes with parts six and seven, a reading of Koran and a prayer.  

Enough explanation.  On to the ceremony.

The greeting:

Preparing to whirl.  The crossed arms, done at the end of each stage, represents the number one, attesting to the unity of God.

The dervishes start by walking in a circle to the music, then they begin to dance.

The Sheikh remains in the center of the circle, slowly turning.  At times, he raises his left hand as if in blessing and puts his right hand over his heart.

The ceremony floor:

The interior of the caravanserai:

Drums:

One of the rooms to the side of the courtyard was filled with this small lamps.  Originally lit by candles (I assume), they are now all electrified (although they may close to overloading that circuit).  It was magical beyond compare (see video below).

Of all the things we did and saw in Turkey, this remains one of my truly favorite experiences.  There was nothing but peace and tranquility that almost visibly manifested itself from this ceremony.  Were we to have this kind of religion and respect each other (even if we cannot agree), it would be indeed a more merry world.

Night And Day

Always be the light in everyone else's life. You never know how dark their nights may be.

Christmas 2024

 

(Madonna and Child.  Book of Kells, Ireland, circa A.D. 800.  Source)

"Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  And this will be a sign to you:  You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manager.

      And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying:  "Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill towards men!"  - Luke 2:  10-14

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given:  and the government shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall be called Wonderful Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Price of Peace." - Isaiah 9:6

Nollick ghennal erriu! (Merry Christmas!)

Turkey 2024: Sultanhani Caravanserai (II)

As mentioned yesterday, the Sultanhani Caravanserai was divided into two sections:  An outer court and and inner building.  The inner building was used in Winter to protect from the elements (also in our visit, remarkably cooler inside even in the late Spring).

There was a display of handwoven rugs in building. The rug below is from the 19th Century:

Camels and donkeys from the 20th Century:

Looking up:

Sadly, there was not date on this one, but I loved the colour combinations:

The inside was spacious.  Plenty of room for traders and their animals:

Of note, at this Caravanserai all travelers - regardless of race or religion - were offered food, drink, and shelter for three days without cost.  Undoubtedly the Seljuk Sultans realized some money from spending on travelling supplies, but it was also meant as a sign of the wealth and munificence of the Seljuk Sultans.

A pigeon flaunting the anti-bird enforcement devices.  Life lesson:  Become ungovernable.

Returning back to the courtyard:

Looking through the arch of the mosque:

Bonus round:  Goat's milk ice cream.  I think this was coffee flavored.  It was amazing, and arguably better than gelato.

Turkey 2024: Sultanhani Caravanserai (I)

The Sultanhani Caravaserai, built in A.D. 1229 in Konya, is a rare instance of a Seljuk building which remains intact.   The Seljuk Empire, as you might recall, had an inland empire in Anatolia prior to that of Ottoman Turks, reigning over a large area of the now Middle East and Central Asia from A.D. 1037 to 1194, reduced in size from A.D. 1194 to their final defeat in A.D. 1308.

The purpose of the caravanserai was to encourage trade - in this case, trade along the Silk Road that led from China to the Mediterranean and eventually Western Europe and Africa.  Many traders did not make the entire trip across Asia; they would stop at trading posts like this to exchange goods for certain portions of the route.  Thus, the caravanserai became a meeting point of different cultures and peoples.

A caravanserai (or caravanseray) was a sort of roadside in for traders and travelers.  In the case of the Sultanhani Caravanserai, strong walls made both for protection from the elements as well as protection from potential thieves and robbers.

(One of the entry gates)

The Caravanserai was divided into two main parts, an outer part consisting of an open space, an arcade on one side and a series of small rooms on the other, and a small building in the center (below) which was a small mosque.

The arcade:

An entry door to one of the rooms:

An interior room.  These could serve as storage rooms, quarters, or work areas.

Another view of the mosque.  This is the oldest square mosque in Turkey.

Another interior: