Greece 2023: Delphi IV

(Editor's Note:  Apparently if I use a Incognito window, whatever is interfering with the ability to upload pictures does not create issues - so we are back in business!)

Beyond just the ruins of Delphi, there is a museum where they have many of the statues and carvings that have be found on the site.

A carving that might have been under the roof of a temple (Metope) or lower down.  Note the lion laying waste to some poor soul.

The Sphinx of Naxos.  Dating from around 500 B.C., this stood on a 12.5 m column near the Temple of Apollo.

A meeting of...someone?  Nothing I can remember, but do note the chariot race.

From the Myth of the Dioscuri (Castor and Pollux):

The Calydonian Boar:

I believe this was Theseus and the Minotaur:

The Omphalos, literally the Navel of The Earth.  In Greek mythology, Zeus set two eagles to fly around the world and they met at Delphi.

Inscription from the the Roman Era.  I am tickled that the word "Macedon" is clearly legible.

The Charioteer of Delphi.  This bronze statue was part of a larger piece consisting the Charioteer, his chariot and four horses, and possibly four grooms.  It was cast in the 470's B.C., likely to commemorate a victory in a chariot race by the tyrant Polyzalus of Sicily.  It was buried in a rockslide in 373 B.C., thus preserving the piece instead of it being melted down at a later date.

Imagine if more of these works had survived.

The craftsmanship and detail belie the fact these were they were produced long ago, in a "primitive" society.

A Visit With Mom November 2023

One of the driving reasons for my time constrained trip out was to make sure to visit my mother.  Even if it is only once a month, I like to go for my own sanity if nothing else.  It is not as if I really contribute anything to the management of the situation all, and certainly I have no expectation that my mother remembers such things.  The visits really are for me.

The visit this month was on my own as my sister and brother in law were out of town for the weekend.  By nature these make for even shorter visits - at least when I am there with my sister we  just have a conversation between ourselves and my mother listens in, occasional perking up if my sister mentions anything about teaching, her career for almost 40 years.

My mother mostly sits in the main large room now along with all the other residents, either on couches or in chairs, covered with blankets as it is Winter.  Some times we will just sit down on the couch and visit as it seems less disruptive than getting her up and out to the front to visit.  Today was no different; I thought - thought - I recognized her from the back as I came in.

It was jarring to me to see her this month:  her hair is longer this month as it was last month (she has not worn her hair this long in 60 years or more) but she looked far more frail than I have seen in recent months. Part of this is not a surprise:  my sister had said the staff had noted she has been eating less and less and my sister had been buying protein drinks for her.  Still, I had not expected this much of a change in a month.

Her attention was off to her left, looking at something that was either on a shelf or a person in  a chair.  My attempts to engage her in conversation were fruitless; by far this was the least communicative she has been.   I could not even engage her enough to get her to turn and look at me.  I tried a couple of different tracks - weather and the fact Thanksgiving is coming up - and when neither of those were successful, I said my goodbyes and retired back to parking lot. 

The entire visit was less than five minutes.

It is not as if any of this is unexpected:  this is the course of the disease.  But reading on the course of the disease is one thing; seeing it openly and actively played out is something else entirely.  In some portion of my brain, there is the vain hope that at some level there is still something of my mother that will respond when we come to visit, even if it is a small thing The reality is that such things seem simply hopes at that:  vague good wishes that have no ability to manifest themselves.  For all of my wishing - my hoping - that things will be otherwise, it is simply not so.

I will continue my visits so long as my mother is there to receive them.  What I likely have to let go of is the sense that there will be any visible sense of recognition, or perhaps even interest.  In either case I need to respect how she is when I arrive, even if I do not react to.  

Time enough for such thoughts on the long drive home.

A November Visit To The Ranch And Odds And Ends

 

A very short trip out to The Ranch this month, just enough time to visit my Mother and make sure the house has sprung no new leaks.  All told wheels down to wheels up, about 48 hours here.

It is not my preferred schedule.  I had originally planned to arrive on Wednesday past, but I received an offer to do an event with my Sensei (and when Sensei offers, you drop what you are doing and go). 

It has a Autumn feel here; the oak leaves are falling off the trees and clogging the driveway (something that needs to be raked up this time out) and it is easily dark by 1800.  The wind is blowing as I write this, the rain having stopped in the immediate locale (thankful, no roof leaks to date).  I will see my Mother and rake leaves and try and pack a few more things before I lumber back to New Home.

Last night's adventure was a trip to Vigil Mass to watch Uisdean Ruadh's young acolytes go through their paces. I am not Catholic of course, but I have enough of a background in Anglican and Lutheran services that I pretty easily blend in.  Dinner was Mongolian BBQ, one of my favorite sorts of food - mostly because it is one of the few restaurants that reliably has lamb.  

This coming week is a rarity I have not really had since July:  even though I am returning on Monday night, I do not work again at Produce (A)Isle until Saturday.  My assumption is that this is do to the Thanksgiving holiday and trying to balance out all the schedules of the people that need to get their full time hours (I am back to 17 hours the following week).  I therefore get a Tuesday night and all of Thursday and Friday off.  Such a surfeit of time not working; I honestly expect it to be filled with naps and some work on projects that I never seem to have time to get to now (including, I think, uploading all remaining photos from Greece and get the skeleton of those posts ready.  Blogger/Google continues to be....difficult).

The New Job is continuing to go well - although we had a "hard reality" town hall this past Friday.  In short, we need to focus on a very specific set of activities to move us to the next phase.  Between now and January (probably February) everything has to be related to that set of tasks.  As a result, all new spending is halted unless it directly relates to those activities.  If it does not go as planned....well, they have a burn rate that they need to hit and they will likely do what they need to to make it. 

In talking about it with The Ravishing Mrs. TB, her comment was "If you get laid off again, maybe it really is a sign".

A sign of what was not really discussed - but yes, probably a sign.

Truth

 

Greece 2023: The Best Sign In All Of Greece

 

The Collapse CXXVI: The Plan

 24 June 20XX +1

My Dear Lucilius:

By the time I awoke this morning – almost at my normal time; I seem to be recovering – there was a great stir. The Scouting Party had returned; our plan was to be presented later in the day.

You know the feeling of waiting for the meeting that everyone anticipates because of the subject or the announcement everyone knows is coming, but has not been made: there is a sharpness of anticipation to the air and to interactions. Some may talk about the what if’s, but most (especially we who are “more experienced”) will simply hold their tongue; pondering without actual facts simply creates anxiety and fear that may or may not manifest itself.

At 1400 – after the scouting party had the opportunity to rest and eat – the plan was presented.

The Locusts had established themselves in the town of McAdams, about 6 miles away and, almost directly west of where we were. Originally it was a ranching town that became a sort of vacation spot on the local lake; its main buildings were a few stores along the road, a small grouping of homes (largely vacation homes) and a combination post office/general store by the lake. The Locusts had moved into the post office/general store and pushed or pulled cars over as a front line wall, thus giving them a protected rear and a clear view out to the road on either side.

The difficulty was going to be to lure them out. To do this, there was a plan.

Up to the recent past, the locals had used that road with little incident; even now, one could sometimes slip through. The plan was to fake a broken down transport some distance away (but not too far) and lure them in. Given the paucity of supplies, it was felt it would be sufficient as it did still reflect a situation that occurred from time to time.

The group would split into three sub groups. The first – the largest, with the Colonel – would be stationed to the north of the truck, overlooking the lake and road. They would wait until the trap was sprung. The second – a smaller group – would also wait to the north and swing in behind the Locusts as they passed by, getting between them and McAdams. Their job was simply to prevent anyone from getting through. The third – led by the Captain – was the commando group They would come around from the lake side after the shooting started and assault the post office/general store, relying on surprise and reduced personnel to enable their assault.

We would pack 5 days of rations and head out tomorrow, making a wide circle heading South and then coming back in towards the road. That would take approximately one day. On the second day, the trap would be laid by locals. We would then wait. They anticipated at least one day, perhaps two, before a scouting party of Locusts had discovered the lure, returned with word of it, and came back with a larger force.

The lure obviously had to be large enough and tempting enough to hold their interest – and get enough individuals to try to haul things away.

Someone raised their hand. Water? Food we could carry, but water was a thing we could not do without, long term.

In this case, luck – and hydrology – favor us. The area between the lake and the river has a number of creeks we can avail ourselves of, and even the second party would be stationed by a small creek (the third party – the lake party – would have their fill of water).

With that, they began subdividing us. The largest group – 25 or so – included the Colonel, Young Xerxes, and what could only be interpreted as men and women “of a certain experience”, either hunting or military. The smallest group – 5, including the Captain – could all be mistaken for nothing other than ex- military. The middle group – about 10 – represented the “swing east and hold the line group. The young woman who had helped with my firearm – hereafter know as “The Leftenant” – was the leader. It was to this group that myself, Blazer Man, and what could be interpreted as “the back benchers” were assigned.

It was Blazer Man that suggested we call ourselves “The Old Contemptibles” after the British Expeditionary Force in World War I. I laughed out loud; the Leftenant gave us a very quizzical look and probably regretted having been noticed for her leadership.

We leave this evening.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Greece 2023: Delphi III

(Editor's note:  Apparently uploading pictures from your phone works.  Onward and upward!)

The Temple of Athena Pronaia (literally "The One Before") was the temple that would have greeted suppliants on their journey to Delphi.  There was originally a temple complex here, dating from the 7th Century B.C.

Looking back towards the Sacred Way:

Remains of the temple of Athena

The Tholos of Delphi.  At its height, twenty column supported a vaulted roof decorated with friezes and carvings.

The view from the modern town of Dephi, below the ancient site. You can clearly see the bay where the ships would have docked.  The suppliants would have come up through the olive orchards to ascend to Delphi.

Of Morning Walks and Scooping Dog Residuals

(Editor's note:  What you should be seeing here this morning are more pictures of Dephi. Sadly, Blogger now fails to allow me to upload pictures either from Brave or Chrome.  No explanation really, just "Error" and that is that.  Your patience is appreciated; hopefully it will be resolved soon.)

Every morning Poppy The Brave and I go for a walk around our neighborhood.

The walks are not long - perhaps a little over a mile at the longest - and are not the sort of thing that one does for exercise, at least for me: the amount of sniffing and "whoofing" and peeing makes for much more of a meander (I have had to make peace with this.  If I want to do aerobic work, I have to come out after.).   And, of course, the inevitable "squatting".

Once upon a time, Poppy never used to use the facilities when we walked.  The first few times it happened, I was in a bit of shock.  I walked back home to get a bag, until I figure out that this was now a thing and started carrying one with me.  Even that has been an evolution:  first I brought a bag and and paper towel, then realized that people just used the bag to pick things up.  

(The bag issue has become a non-issue.  Every day I work at Produce (A)Isle, I find bags that individuals have pulled off and left to stand.  I just put them in my pants pocket and bring them home).

Every morning, one bag.  That is a lot of "waste" product, as it were.

Oddly enough in our world of "Use less, consume less", one never hears anything about the use of plastic bags - or even what we should be doing with the material itself.  If I sit and think about it for a bit, the amount that is generated between cats and dogs in the U.S. every day is likely a staggering number - a mountain of excrement, as it were.

And yet, not one word.

Leaving one's animals droppings on the sidewalk or lawn is considered poor sportsmanship, at least here in the suburbs.  One guides one's dog around the offending pile, harumphs a bit at someone that cannot follow basic etiquette, and continues on until the squat starts and one patiently waits, bag in hand (who trained who, precisely?).

I have read the occasional article or chapter about composting cat and dog droppings, but for various reasons it never seems to have caught on - which is fine, of course:  having been to places where they never seem to clean up their scat, I am grateful for the lack of odious aromas (And flies.  So many flies.).   It is probably indirectly the sign of a wealthy society where we do not consider such things as necessary for maintaining fertility of the soil (as well as avoiding parasites, of which I am not a fan).

But it does make me think, as I stand there waiting for Poppy to finish her business:  I am taking an organic, compostable, and recyclable material, putting it in a plastic bag (arguably recyclable, but will it be now?) and placing it in a trash can for disposal in a landfill.  Never once have I heard anyone suggest we should do anything else.

It does make me question:  are we truly dedicated to the sorts of things people claim about "Use less, recycle more" or just those things that we consider anathema to us?  After all, almost everyone loves dogs.  

Their leavings, not so much.

Produce (A)Isle and Economics

 Friday night when I opened my e-mail, one of the on-line bookstores I purchase from notified me that two books that were on my wish list were now available.

As it had been a fair time since I had been there - so long, in fact, that I did not remember which books it was talking about - I went there.  Sure enough, there they were:  a book on the Varangian Guard and a book on Orthodox Spirituality.  Adding them to the other book I had in the cart - also on the Varangian Guard - put my total at $42.80 (with tax but no shipping, as there is no shipping cost when the purchase is above $15.00).

I looked.  I entered my credit card information.  And then I started doing my Produce (A)Isle math.

My princely wage, as you might recall is now $16 an hour, which is 3% more than I started at 6 months ago (and, in percentage and amount, more than I anticipate receiving from my day job this year).  Technically I probably receive around $14.70 an hour after taxes. 

And so I did the math.  Those books would cost me 3 units (hours) of labor on Produce (A)Isle.

They are still sitting in the shopping cart.

I do not know why my mind somehow grasps this better as a unit of measure than my day job amount (which is more, to be perfectly honest).  I suspect it is because in common with most desk jobs there is not a sense of how much effort I am putting in for that salary - the pay is ultimately for results, not hours worked, and so the per hour amount can become meaningless when one spends a great deal more time working (at one time, I believe I calculated my salary at my previous employer to be almost the same no matter how I got promoted based on hours worked).  This is not the case on Produce (A)Isle:  I can clear understand how many banana boxes I have to move or salads I have to rack or bad fruit I have to pick out to get that amount of money.

Suddenly, every expense takes on a new meaning.

As a counter example, my training with The Berserker is approximately 8 units of labor on Produce (A)Isle every six weeks, or one Saturday workday.  In this case I consider it a valuable exchange for the knowledge and guidance (To be fair to myself, I do feel the same way about books and seldom if ever have told myself or a family member not to buy one).  But I clearly understand the cost of what I buying.

It also puts saving activities in perspective.  For example, I now spend about one hour a week darning socks.  Yesterday (today as I write this), I did 8 to 9 socks, one tabi sock for Iai, and my cheesecloth for yogurt.  Assuming the cost of tabi was the same as regular socks (it is not), I darned about $16 worth of clothing in an hour.  The labor/cash exchange was equal, excluding the exercise of the skill and the knowledge I put off spending the money one more week - which is not monetary but valuable. Last week I sewed the inside of my Produce (A)Isle jeans that were ripping on the inside seam. I am not sure how long it will hold (it has held to date), but a truly new pair of jeans would cost 3 units of Produce (A)Isle labor.  Even a used pair would cost 1 to 2 units of labor.  In that case I definitively came out ahead.

Applying this measure to everything makes all the difference. I have a standard by which I can measure the value of everything - yes, something things are an investment rather than an expense, but it helps with the initial spend (Depreciation of such things is beyond the limited use of this model - how do I put value on something like a generator [51.5 Labor Units] or a Pressure Canner [13.5 labor units]?).

It certainly seems to make saying "No" a great deal easier - after all, how many banana boxes do I really want to move to get that?

A Recurring Thought and Times

 One of the remarkable things is that when you have blogged for a while, things come back.  

During my daily reading of My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers, I came across this quote:

"I have to learn that the aim in life is God's not mine.  God is using me from His great personal standpoint, and all He asks of me is that I trust Him, and never say - Lord, this gives me such heartache.  To talk that way makes me a dog.  When I stop telling God what I want, He can catch me up for what He wants without let or hindrance.  He can crumple me up or exalt me, He can do anything He chooses.  He simply asks me to have implicit faith in Himself and in His goodness.  Self-pity is of the devil; if I go off on that line I cannot be used by God for His purpose in the world.  I have "a world within a world" in which I live, and God will never be able to get me outside it because I am afraid of being frost bitten."

It was underlined, so I had obviously thought is was important.  "That would make a good blog post" I though to myself.  Turns out it had - almost five years ago to this day (18 November 2018).

Five years ago, I would have been two years into my previous job.  Nighean Gheal would have been finishing her college, Nighean Bhan starting hers.  Nighean Dhonn would have have been finishing out secondary school.  I would have been to Japan to train for the first time.  My life would have probably seemed shockingly put together, at least compared to now.

Funny how circumstances change, but the words Chambers wrote remain strikingly relevant - if I am willing to hear them.

In Flanders Fields (Armistice Day 2023)

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place: and in the sky

The larks still bravely singing fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: Short days ago,

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved: and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe

To you, from failing hands, we throw

The torch: be yours to hold it high

If ye break faith with us who die,

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

Lt. Colonel John McCrae 03 May 2015

On Schedule And Balance

Life seems to have reached a sort of homeostatic state, if I will allow it to exist as such.

Work Job #1 Monday through Friday.  Work Job #2  (Produce (A)isle) Tuesday and Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons/evenings.  Iaijutsu class Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday morning.  Church and Rabbit Shelter on Sunday.  Gym Monday, Wednesday, and Friday (in theory; still trying to lock this down).

Add to this one week a month at The Ranch (or parts of a week thereof) and this has become the rhythm of my life.

On the one hand, there is a great deal of regularity to it.  For example, on Tuesday and Thursdays I always leave Job #1 at 1630 to get to Produce (A)isle by 1700.  I arrive home from Iaijustu class almost the same time ever evening and morning.  I will be at the Rabbit Shelter on Sunday by 1300 and likely home by 1600.

On the whole, the hours are very cut and dried.

On the other hand, clever readers will notice relatively few gaps of free time that are not interchanges between one thing and the other, where I am doing things like feeding animals and eating.  That largely comes down to Friday evenings, mid-day Saturday for about two hours, and Sunday afternoons.

I had written earlier this week about paring down my activities.  This schedule has really forced the issue.

Is it a terrible schedule?  Other than my inability to sleep for periods at a time, not really.  It is predictable.  It covers a combination of things I have to do and things I want to do.  In the fringes (read mornings) I have the opportunity to do all of the personal sorts of things I need to (like, for example, blog).    

It also has the benefit that the random Thursday off really feels like a "true" day off.  Free time has never feels more enjoyable than when it is unexpected.

How long can I do this?  Hard to say.  I am hard pressed to think what I would drop if needed - really I would love it to be Job #1 but I am not independently wealthy to the point that is a possibility.  But I can easily see making this work for a longer period of time than I anticipated.

The difficulty, I suppose, really lies within myself:  am I willing to accept this rhythm as it exists?  Willing to use those precious free hours in ways to move other initiatives forward instead of just randomly clinging to them as "mine, mine, mine"?  Or am I only willing to ever be unhappy about the whole thing?

Coming to terms with what "is", instead of what "should be", makes for uncomfortable personal reflection.

The Collapse CXXV: More Waiting

23 June 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

The only thing more impatience inducing than waiting is more waiting.

Rising today was not different than rising the day before. The scouting party was still gone. Breakfast was a repeat of the day before. We were politely reminded to stay indoors to reduce the potential of being observed.

For most of us – scrabbling to make a living for the last year under unexpected circumstances – a sudden forced confined inaction made for a restlessness that I have not experienced in years.

There were card games, but these began to escalate in volume and were called to a halt. Someone started an impromptu open-hand class and before long a group was in one section grabbing and locking. Someone else found the mats for the gym and soon enough flipping was added to the regimen.

The constant thought at the back of my mind – at the back of many, I suspect – was the looming unknown of what was to come. It clung to the mind no matter if reading or eating or watching others train. One desired the return of the scouting party for knowledge that all were safe, if no other reason; the fact that with their return other wheels would begin to turn served comfort, I suspect, to no-one.

As part of the day’s rushing languid tide of time, I found myself in a conversation with Blazer Man.

He was, like me, of an older vintage, a teacher by trade (history, of all things). He had worked in the system until, like many of us of a certain age, he simply could not do it anymore. He hung on long enough for his pension, then he and his wife relocated here after years of coming for vacation.

His wife, unexpectedly, passed within a year of the move and he suddenly found himself at a loose end. Years of planning for a decade or two of enjoyment were gone. Left on his own, he found himself becoming involved in every local historical and civic organization he could to fill the void and pass the time. Which, it seems, ended up also being in the volunteer militia.

It was a pleasant conversation, one that I have not had the opportunity to really engage in for a very long time. After the backgrounds for both of us were introduced and rambled through, we found ourselves slipping away into the sorts of things that historians (amateur and professional) talk about: Was the fall of Roman Republic foreordained, or could it have been saved? If Philip the Second of Macedonia had lived, could he have succeeded like his son Alexander did and if so, would he have left a more stable kingdom?

You have no idea (well, actually you do, Lucilius) how such a conversation can lift the spirits. There is nothing to make the time pass and helping to turn the mind away from a troubling present like a conversation that engages the passions and mind. It was, in this time and place, a drink of clear water to a very parched throat.

It did not make the worry go away or the scouting party return any more quickly. It did, however, ease a mind (my own) that needed something else do dwell on except the iron truth of the present.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Greece 2023: Delphi II

"The lord whose is the oracle at Delphi neither utters nor hides his meaning, but shows it by a sign." - Heraclitus

Drawing of The Sacred Way of Delphi:

(Source)

An informational plaque on the Temple of Apollo at Delphi as it was possibly then.

The Temple of Apollo now:

An offering built by Crateros, one of the generals of Alexander the Great:

If memory serves, this was the stone from which the oracles were give.  A tripod was put in the three triangular holes on which the Pythia sat; the hole in the center is from which the gases would emanate.

Delphi also had a theater, originally built in the 4th century B.C.

Probably uncomfortable seats, but great views.

Above the temple complex and the theater complex was a stadium where the Pythian Games were held every four years in honor of Apollo.  They were one of the four great Panhellenic Games and ran for almost 1,000 years (6th Century B.C. to 4th Century A.D.).

Again - Uncomfortable seats, but what a view.

Greece 2023: Delphi I

The Temple of Pythian Apollo at Delphi on Mt. Parnassus was one of the great sites of the Ancient Greek world. In mythology, the god Apollo killed a great serpent there (traditionally the male serpent, or Python).  The site became known as a place where Apollo would grant prophecies through his pythia (Female high priest).  Delphi as a site was mentioned in The Illiad (circa 800 B.C.), so its history as a site of worship was long established. by the time we reach Classical Greece.

Ascending from the port of Krisa, one would make one's way through olive groves (still extant) to the the side of Mt. Parnassus where, at certain times of the year, questions could be asked of the god Apollo through his priestess.  One would walk what was called The Sacred Way, past statues of renowned men, through the buildings erected by cities known as Treasuries where offerings were kept and displayed to show their devotion to the god, to the temple of Apollo. There, one would ask the question of the Pythia as she sat above a fissure in the earth where fumes from the decaying body of the Python would continually seep up (we now know these as hydrocarbon natural gasses from the earth; it is thought that they caused the priestess to enter a transcendent state and hear the god's response.).  Above the temple was a amphitheater and a stadium for plays and sporting events in honor of the god.  

The heyday of the complex was the Ancient and Classical Ages of Greece; in 278 B.C. it was destroyed by Thracian tribesman and never fully recovered, except for a brief renaissance under Hadrian in the Second Century A.D. (Also, it is noted that due to earthquakes, the gas emanation may have decreased or been eliminated thus "denuding" the oracle of her powers).  It was eventually converted into more of Christian use during the Byzantine era.

A painting of Delphi as it would have appeared at its height:

(Source)

A stone from the entrance.  I show this because as can be clearly seen, this is Greek.  At least 2300 years later, this is writing that can still be read. Even dead, they still speak.

This would have been the location of stalls, or possibly some of the statues.

 

The stones are so large, and in many ways fit so closely together.  We will see this at Mycenae as well.

The amount of work to quarry and move these stones - up a mountain - was tremendous.

Ruins of a city Treasury:

The Treasury of Athens.  This is the one structure reconstructed at Delphi.  It is said that the spoils taken from the Greek victory at Marathon in 490 B.C. from the Persians were displayed here.

Looking upwards towards the Temple of Apollo:

This bronze object (the original was moved to Byzantium) was created to memorialize the victory of the Greeks over the Persians at the Battle of Platea in 479 B.C. (I got bonus points from our tour guide for knowing this.)

Looking down from the Platean memorial.  You can see how steep the hillside is.