An ode to CO2

is there nothing it can’t do
photosynthesis and warming
flora fauna reconforming
judeO2 suborning
calamity construe
remorseful rehabilitation
militia green creation
taxpayer ass dilation
from paris to peru
blarney baal conforming
artificial brain rewarding
scientifical denorming
synthetic peer review
milspec creation complex
ngo citation redux
tax is tithing says my cortex
constipation or i’ll sue
politician duty grifting
little people spit obeying
hammer down to earth relaying
sickle government renew
there is nothing it can’t do

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Travel theme: Circles

When I was younger I traveled the world, dragged by my family from one country to another, back and forth across the Atlantic Ocean. I hope to travel widely again, in this newer century. Until then, my travels occur only through the vast loops of Internet connections that lead from my computer to the far corners of the earth and back again.

But what a magnificent journey it is! Some of what I find makes its way into the pages of my new novel. Other discoveries wait, scribbled in the pages of my notebook, saved in lists of my favorite sites, deposited in magical magnetic collections of ones and zeroes.

Source: Global Integrity.

“The world’s next great natural resource race will not be the traditional mad dash to mine, extract, and commercialize oil, gas, timber, minerals, or even water. … The prize: the ones and zeros that increasingly comprise the fabric of contemporary society – your data.” Source: Global Integrity.

The idea for this post came from the site, Where’s My Backpack? Although my blog doesn’t treat the theme of travel in same way, I couldn’t resist the temptation of posting some of the magic circles I’ve found on my own adventure.

The main character of my novel is a young Hungarian girl, Mina Ferenci. Captured by the Ottoman Turks in 1626, she is taken from her home town of Mako to Istanbul to be a household slave.

Mina's journey begins in Istanbul, at 41 degrees 00'28.85" N, 28 degrees 58'26.06" E.

Mina’s journey (in yellow) begins in Istanbul, at 41 degrees 00’28.85″ N, 28 degrees 58’26.06″ E.

Viewed from above, Istanbul is filled with circles - the minarets and domes of the mosques.

Viewed from above, Istanbul is filled with circles – the minarets and domes of the mosques.

Excerpt from Chapter 1: The Sublime Porte.

Groups of men were filtering into the courtyard through the four southern gates and Mina slowed to a walk and followed them along a straight wide path lined with cypress, willows and other trees she could  not identify. From the four minarets the call to prayer began, and from within the animosity in her gut she felt the urge to laugh. This time she did not suppress it and her amusement grew as the words spread out into the courtyard and beyond.

“God is most great,” sang the voices from the minarets. “I testify there is no other God but God. I testify Muhammad is the messenger of God. Come and pray. Come and flourish. God is most great. There is no God but God.”

Mina accepted the invitation and entered the inner courtyard through the gate. The shock of beauty almost took her breath away. A plateau of perfectly smooth white marble was walled in by multicolored stone columns supporting windowed galleries. Above the galleries, arches of the same multicolored stone looked like rainbows. A line of domes finished the top of each wall and the four minarets anchored each corner of the courtyard.

You might wonder how a girl could enter the mosque of Suleiman the Magnificent. In real life, she couldn’t. In the novel … well, I don’t want to give away too much of the plot. Mina does escape from slavery (of course) taking with her two maps that describe the trade routes across Anatolia to the Caspian Sea.

Maps have been enormously important throughout history, but a “map” has not always been what we understand it to be today. For instance, the Portolan Charts of the 1400’s, which appeared as Europeans started using the magnetic compass, “were made to get seafarers from home to another place and back again safely.”  Modern viewers, although we can identify certain features, would find them useless for our own travels.

1466 Portolan Chart, Petrus Roselli, Cartographer. "Features that usually appear on portolan charts include: a network of lines made within a circle, coastlines of lands, place-names, scales of distance, a compass showing cardinal directions, and indications of shoals, reefs, and islands along coastlines. Source: James Ford Bell Library, University of Minnesota.

1466 Portolan Chart, Petrus Roselli, Cartographer. “Features that usually appear on portolan charts include: a network of lines made within a circle, coastlines of lands, place-names, scales of distance, a compass showing cardinal directions, and indications of shoals, reefs, and islands along coastlines. Source: James Ford Bell Library, University of Minnesota.

Technology advanced, and Portolan Charts were succeeded by the modern map, with all its variations. Other inventions exploded into human consciousness, too, many of them related to astronomy and navigation. The “lead and line” — used by sailors for so long to gauge depth, speed and distance — disappeared from use. The Museo Galileo has some stunning examples of human ingenuity, like this “nautical circle.”

"Designed by Robert Dudley and made by Charles Whitwell, this large disk bears only a superficial resemblance to the astrolabe. In fact, it probably belonged to a more complex instrument described in Dudley's Arcano del mare. A ruler complete with circle also forms part of this navigation instrument." Source: Museo Galileo.

“Designed by Robert Dudley and made by Charles Whitwell, this large disk bears only a superficial resemblance to the astrolabe. In fact, it probably belonged to a more complex instrument described in Dudley’s Arcano del mare. A ruler complete with circle also forms part of this navigation instrument.” Source: Museo Galileo.

Other examples of the circle have no circular images to accompany them. With the invention of the printing press, books spread across empires and some authors sought to catalog all knowledge in a new form. As William N. West points out in Theatres and Encyclopedias in Early Modern Europe, Cambridge University Press, 2002, part of the word “encyclopedia” comes in part from the Greek root word meaning “circle.”

The capaciousness of the word “encyclopedia” in the sixteenth century and its almost utopian claims for comprehensiveness, compression, and speed of access, similar in tone and content to modern ones for the World Wide Web, are in part a result of its newness; like the word “theatrum,” “encyclopedia” was a sign for which a referent had to be imagined before it could be realized. From its beginnings, the term was unstable, implying a great deal about totality and mastery but difficult to pin down or even evaluate as serious or satirical. Although composed of Greek elements — enkuklios means “general” or “everyday” and derives from the root kuklos, “circle,” while paideia means “education” or “training” — it is in fact not the product of any Greek-speaking culture, but rather of one that read Greek voraciously, early modern humanist Europe.

With the encyclopedia came the idea of a museum, the Kunstkammer, or “art cabinet.” Elites of the Early Modern era collected treasures —  just like they do today, and for all the same reasons — but the manner of organization was entirely different. The History of the Royal Danish Kunstkammer, a 2002 essay by Bente Gundestrup of the The National Museum of Denmark , tells an interesting story:

Hans Christian Andersen concludes his tale The Princess and the Pea by telling us that ‘– the pea was put into the museum, where it can still be seen, if no one has taken it!’ Anyone who has read the story will probably recognize the ending, but they will almost certainly have been unaware of the allusions to one particular museum, and to a remarkable act of theft.

The absolutist monarchs of Denmark had created a multi-museum in Copenhagen – a Kunstkammer – containing all those things, which nowadays can only be seen by visiting a whole range of different museums. The collection reflected the Universe, with naturalia created by God, and objets d’art created by Man – all arranged and displayed according to an efficient, precise system.

This was the repository for some of the treasures of the realm. Here could be found the exquisite Dagmar Cross, as well as the two famous 5th century Golden Horns – found in 1639 and 1734. It was the fate of these Golden Horns that Hans Christian Andersen was hinting at. In 1802 they were stolen from the Kunstkammer and later melted down. The theft inspired Adam Oehlenschläger that same year to write his poem Golden Horns.

Kunstkammer der Regensburger Familie Dimpfel, 1668, Ulmer Museum.

Kunstkammer der Regensburger Familie Dimpfel, 1668, Ulmer Museum. Source: Kunst- und Wunderkammern.

And here this blog entry comes full circle, because Mina Ferenci, the former Ottoman slave girl, arrives in the Baltic in the company of one Adam Olearius. Therein lies a tale, but I’ll leave you with this final circle, the Great Gottorp Globe, currently owned by the Peter the Great Museum of Anthropology and Ethnology.

The Great Gottorp Globe is on display at our museum. One of the first planetariums in the world, it is unique in its size and construction, allowing an external globe with a map of the earth’s surface and an internal planetarium with a map of the starry sky to rotate simultaneously.

The globe was made in 1654-1664 under the supervision of A. Olearius in Gottorp, the resident of the Duke of Holstein. The planetarium globe of 3.1 meters in diameter was given to Peter the Great during the Northern War and brought to Petersburg in 1717. Initially, it was placed in a special pavilion on the Tsaristin meadow (now the Field of Mars). It is known that the Tsar frequently examined the Gottorp globe in the morning, such was the interest he took in it.

In 1717, the globe was moved to the tower of the Kunstkamera building. It was severely damaged in the fire of 1747, and its surface was destroyed. Thanks to the work of 18th-century Russian craftsmen, modern restorers, researchers and curators, visitors to the museum today can share the pride and amazement which this unique globe evoked among the people of past centuries.

The globe was made in 1654-1664 under the supervision of A. Olearius in Gottorp, the resident of the Duke of Holstein. The planetarium globe of 3.1 meters in diameter was given to Peter the Great during the Northern War and brought to Petersburg in 1717.

The globe was made in 1654-1664 under the supervision of A. Olearius in Gottorp, the resident of the Duke of Holstein. The planetarium globe of 3.1 meters in diameter was given to Peter the Great during the Northern War and brought to Petersburg in 1717.

The Crash of the Sun

Kaali Meteorite Crater on the island of Saaremaa.

Kaali Meteorite Crater on the island of Saaremaa. Source: Tina Gill.

You won’t find much if you search the Web for “the crash of the sun.”

Some of what you do find is less than palatable, unless you’re into the ambient/electronica/experimental music of the Italian band SBPS2. Down at the tail end of the nine Google results, you’ll find a link to Volume 23 of Estonian Folklore.

Estonia is a curious country. Snuggled up against Russia — if one can place such a cuddly word so near to that totalitarian nightmare —  with a frozen coastline on the Gulf of Finland, the country has been fought over by Poland, Germany, Denmark, Germany, Russia and Sweden. In the 1400’s it was part of Livonia, and despite the Christianization of the pagans the country still has its own curious identity.

The Livonian Confederation, 15th century

The Livonian Confederation, 15th century

In 1639, the characters from my novel travel by ship from Reval (present-day Tallinn) to Riga, and are forced to land on the island of Saaremaa to make repairs.

Ulf looked around at the crew members sleeping on the dry sand around him. Others had been sent for construction materials, food and water. From the west, borne on the soft wind, he could hear the bark of seals and the cries of birds. Master Jens turned the carcass of the dead bird over the open fire and continued the telling — the endless telling — of yet another boring story from the dying past.

“The island settlements to the east are ancient, and the place was known to the vikings as Eysysla. Eirik – a bastard son of the Norsk King Haakon Sigurdsson – invaded here 600 years ago, killing everyone he found and taking Danish ships as his own. But today it is a haven for healers. They say massive stones fall here from the sky, trailing fire and bringing magic elements. Don’t be surprised if witches appear to you out of thin air. And whatever they ask of you, don’t do it.”

Ulf wished the old man would just shut up.

As you can see, I am not Ulf. The story of the meteorite is real, and it fascinates me — as do the other stories that Master Jens tells. Volume 23 of Estonian Folklore tells what really happened.

The Kaali meteorite crash is the kind of unique and astounding event that must have become a topic of storytelling and singing for many generations afterward. As mentioned above, it evidently occurred around 2000 BC, on Saaremaa Island in the Baltic Sea. As recent scientific studies have established (Tiirmaa 1994), a meteorite of iron streaked from east to west over the Estonian mainland, broke  apart as a result of atmospheric friction, and hit the island in at least 9 places, leaving craters that can be seen to this day.

Tiirmaa (1994: 63) likens the event to a small nuclear explosion (minus radioactivity). … the amount of energy needed to form the main crater was equivalent to 1-4 kilotons (1–4 million kg or 2–8 million pounds) of TNT explosive. The largest fragment hit the ground and exploded with enough energy to create a crater 110 m in diameter, 22 m deep, with a rim 4–7 m above the ground.

It is hard to imagine what went on in the minds of the humans who saw flaming chunks of the sky fall to earth, heard the sonic boom of the streaking fragments and the ear-splitting crash, felt the ground shudder beneath their feet, and were engulfed by a great cloud of dust and ash. Trees, animals, and dwellings within a radius of 2–5 km from the site would have been destroyed, a forest fire would have been ignited, and the survivors would have had to run for their lives to avoid asphyxiation from the vaporized and pulverized matter and gases. This may have been the greatest meteorite impact ever in a populated area. It was truly a fearsome and spectacular event, more than enough to alter existing world-views and to inspire new tales and songs.

The long-tailed fireball would have been brighter than the sun, visible not just on Saaremaa but as far as 700 km (450 miles) away (Meri 1984: 55; Tiirmaa 1994: 65). Included in the area of direct observability are much of southern Finland and Karelia, the Novgorod area of Russia, the Polish coast, and lower Sweden.

At the end of the dissertation comes a song. The Kaali Meteorite Song. “Each song line is to be sung first by the lead singer [storyteller], and repeated by the chorus [listeners].”

Narrator: The night was dark. The sky-god Ukko decided to shed more light on earth.

Ukko struck to make a fire,
Struck a white-hot lightning fire.
From his flaming sword he struck it,
As the sparks did fly and sputter;
Fire hit against his fingers,
Sputtered sparks from sacred fingers,
High above aloft in heaven,
On the starry plains of heaven.

Narrator: He entrusted the care of the fire to the maid of air, for her to form and shape.

Into a new moon to form it,
Into a new day to shape it.

Narrator: But this did not turn out well.

Imbi rocked the baby fire,
Back and forth the little white one.
On her hands she held the fire,
Put the spark up on her fingers:
Fire fell from butterfingers
From the fingers of the guardian.

Narrator: The catastrophe followed

Heaven torn and lacerated,
Skyvault became perforated;
Fire tore through sky like blizzard,
Sped and crashed along the cloudline,
Through nine heavens it descended,
Through six spangled vaults of heaven.
Evil deeds it then accomplished,
Cruel deeds it perpetrated:
Burning up the daughters’ bosoms,
Tearing at the breasts of maidens,
And the knees of boys destroying,
And the master’s beard consuming.
And of all its deeds most evil:
Burned the baby in his cradle.
Went on burning many uplands,
Many uplands, many boglands,
Crashed at last into the water,
In the waves of Lake Alue:
And the fire rose up flaming,
And the sparks a rose all crackling.
Three times in a night of summer,
Nine times in a night of autumn,
Roared up to the height of spruce trees,
Sprang up high against the shorebanks
With the strength of furious fire,
With the might of angry white heat.
Even threw the fish on dry land,
Heaved the perch across the beaches.

English language ‘originated in Turkey’

The headline of the BBC article overstates it just a tad — they’re talking about the Indo-European family of languages — but the news is still exciting.

Modern Indo-European languages – which include English – originated in Turkey about 9,000 years ago, researchers say.

Their findings differ from conventional theory that these languages originated 5,000 years ago in south-west Russia.

Reading this, I was immediately reminded of The Baltic Origins of Homer’s Epic Tales, which I read a couple years ago.

… readers will discover how Vinci, working from the evidence of place-names and geographical features … comes to agree with these early social scientists and to conclude that “the original homeland of the Indo-Europeans lay in the northernmost part of Scandinavia …”

Trying to write anything else here would add less than nothing to a topic that is so fascinating to me that it defies description. If you haven’t read Felice Vinci’s book, go out and buy a copy today. You won’t be disappointed.

Tycho, Kepler and the Modern Philosopher’s Stone

Awhile back, I read Tycho and Kepler: The Unlikely Partnership That Forever Changed Our Understanding of the Heavens.

Today I read the Modern Philosopher’s Stone and was reminded of what I wrote in my novelist’s notebook:

Kepler said, about himself, that he was in a state of “permanent repentance about lost time and a permanent loss of time through my own fault.”

Naturally, this has nothing to do with what my fellow blogger writes about hydrogen and taxes. Why should it? I am merely reminded that Johannes Kepler — who was hired by Tycho Brahe — is considered by some to be the father of modern science because he was one of the first men to ask “why”.

Why did the sun revolve around the earth? Before Kepler, no one was very much concerned with the question “why”, because there wasn’t very much hard evidence, nor was any way to add to the evidence that had already been collected. So, for hundreds of years scientists and scholars pretty much ignored the problem.

Everything changed after Kepler published his Laws of Planetary Motion between 1609 and 1619.

The fact that I’m writing this blog entry, instead of continuing my novel, is my own damn fault. And even though I am not, nor will I ever be, like Johannes Kepler, I can’t help feeling that permanent sense of repentance.