Memo hat mich auf eine kleine Filmreihe bei YouTube aufmerksam gemacht, in der es um das Indogermanische, die Erste Lautverschiebung und das Vernersche Gesetz geht. Was für eine fantastische Idee! Lasst Euch nicht von der schlechten Tonqualität am Anfang abschrecken, das wird schnell besser. Ich hab mich enorm amüsiert! Die Illustrationen … hihihihi …

Zu Teil 2 und 3 …

Estamos en un comedor familiar. El papel pintado está ajado, hay humedades en las paredes, desconchones en el techo y la alfombra hace tiempo que dejó de limpiarse. Una simple bombilla cuelga del techo y, sobre la chimenea, pueden verse los sobres de las facturas, aún sin abrir, aún sin pagar. A la mesa, con su mantel sucio y roto, se sientan Hansel y Gretel, callados y pensativos, mientras su padre, que tras el cierre de la fábrica lleva meses sin trabajar, revisa con apatía las ofertas de empleo del periódico. La madrastra, sentada en el sillón, mira la televisión y sueña con una vida mejor.

Es la imagen de la desesperación, la única razón que puede llevar a que unos padres abandonen a sus hijos.

Gracias a su ingenio y coraje, Hansel y Gretel consiguen sobrevivir. Así lo consiguen muchas familias, día tras día.

Referencias:

• Grimm, Jacob; Grimm, Wilhelm; Browne, Anthony (il.), Hansel y Gretel (Hansel and Gretel, 1981), México, FCE, 1ª edición, 1984, ISBN: 968-16-7062-0.

Como a pesar de haber recibido una educación superior todavía conservaba cierta inteligencia, decidió no consultar con ningún psicólogo o psiquiatra y sentarse a reflexionar en una banqueta.

(de La Princesa y el Guisante)

Un cuentista espiritual (que no místico) dijo que habíamos…

…abandonado los principios de la economía de mercado para salvar el sistema de economía de mercado.

Sus palabras me recordaron los Cuentos Económicos de David Anisi. Cuando los leí pensé que eran un simple divertimento pero, pensándolo mejor, me di cuenta de que son algo más.

Afroamericanos víctimas de una inundación hacen cola para conseguir alimentos y ropa de la Cruz Roja bajo la atenta mirada de un cartel que reza "EL MÁS ALTO NIVEL DE VIDA/ NO HAY ESTILO DE VIDA COMO EL (ESTILO DE VIDA) AMERICANO" - Foto: Margaret Bourke-White, Louisville (Kentucky) EE.UU., Febrero de 1937.

El traje nuevo del emperador (sobre el paro) comienza así:

Aquel monarca llevaba varios años con una china en el zapato. Su reinado no iba del todo mal, pero bondadoso como era, no dejaba de preocuparse de la suerte de una buena parte de sus súbditos afectados desde hacía bastante tiempo por una desdicha: el desempleo.

Unos apuntes de La Bella Durmiente (sobre el libre mercado):

Aunque aquel rey no era supersticioso, por seguir la costumbre de la familia consultó a los videntes en el nacimiento de su hija. Estos le auguraron que la princesa llegaría a gobernar, cosa que le pareció excelente al soberano, pero que podía existir un grave problema: que entonteciera antes de ser reina.

[...]

Una vez coronada, y mientras la tontuna se enseñoreaba de todo su ser, la reina dirigió sus primeras palabras como tal a su pueblo.
- Amado pueblo – dijo con emoción – mi gobierno estará basado en el sabio principio de que lo mejor es no hacer nada, por ello tomaré el nombre de Nada I, mi lema será el de “laisez-faire”, y por coherencia no diré nada mas.

Pasaje de El Enano Saltarín (sobre el fraude):

- Decidme vuestro nombre – solicitó el rey.
- Perdonadme – contestó aquel ser – pero mi nombre es un secreto. Escuchadme en cambio lo que tengo que deciros. Conozco los problemas de vuestras tierras y os ofrezco mi ayuda para solucionarlos. La idea básica es muy sencilla y ya se está practicando con éxito en el País Maravilloso. Consiste en solucionar los problemas con palabras.
- Siempre he pensado que es el único camino. – contestó el rey – siempre se trata de dialogar, negociar y entenderse: sólo con las palabras puede hacerse eso.
- No me habéis entendido, majestad. – replicó el del secreto nombre – se trata de cambiar las palabras que designan a los problemas para que esos problemas se desvanezcan. Así la pobreza deja de ser, por ejemplo, un estado para convertirse en un leve tránsito dejando de llamar “pobre” al pobre y denominándolo “todavía no rico” , el enfermo se convierte en un “temporalmente alejado de la salud”, el feo en “el que incorpora otros criterios de belleza”, el engañado en “alguien que se alejó de la verdad”, y así sucesivamente.

Le oí decir en una ocasión que debíamos convertirnos en serpientes (siempre intenté seguir su consejo). Ganas de Escribir le rinde un merecido homenaje.

Referencias:

• Anisi, David, Cuentos Económicos, Edición electrónica gratuita disponible en el espacio de su autor de la web de la Universidad de Salamanca y en  eumed.net, 1999, ISBN: 84-689-6094-2.

«Oh, espejo, espejo de mi alcoba,
dime, ¿quién es la más bella de todas?»
y el espejo respondió,
«Aunque tú eres muy bella, reina mía,
Blancanieves es más bella todavía.»

Reconozco mis prejuicios. Me acerqué a él creyendo que se trataba de una versión más del clásico de los hermanos Grimm, pero no es cierto. Con esta versión de Blancanieves me pasa como con el Pinocho de Innocenti, que se ha convertido para mí en la referencia de un clásico.

Me gusta cómo “rescata” la figura del padre (ausente en el original) y como lo llena de amargura (y culpa, quizá) tras la muerte de su esposa.

Su única desdicha era que el rey no iba a visitarla demasiado a menudo, pues le producía una enorme tristeza acordarse de la reina, su madre, a la cual aún amaba.

Me gustan sus ilustraciones.

Me gusta el final que le da a la madrastra, cambiando los zapatos de hierro al rojo vivo por los pétalos de una flor que, víctima de su propio odio, estruja entre sus manos olvidando que están envenenados.

También me gusta la traducción de Miguel Ángel Mendo (uno de sus blogs) o la cuidada edición que combina muy bien el texto con las ilustraciones.

Y aquí paro, pero podría continuar.

Referencias:

• Poole, Josephine; Barret, Angela (il.), Blancanieves (Snow-white, 1991), trad. Miguel Ángel Mendo, Madrid, Kókinos, 1ª edición, 2007, ISBN: 978-84-96629-17-2.

Creation accompanies destruction. As something old dies, something new is born. Even Scripture attests to this, saying, “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”¹ The view of a rebirth or being “born again” is not unique to Christianity.² “For groups, as well as individuals, life itself means to separate and to be reunited, to change form and condition, to die and be reborn.”³ The process of rebirth is that of reincarnation or reincorporation. Eucharist itself is a rite of incorporation, simultaneously a incorporation into the world of the Church and separation from the secular world. The perpetual return to these acts of incorporation lie at the heart of the human condition.

Cyclical time best shows incorporation and reincorporation. With a linear view of time, less has changed than one might think. Man, modern or primitive, is a creature of habit. Years, months, weeks, days-each of these comprise part of a forgotten liturgy. The perpetual cycles of time exhibit the clearest examples of the creation-destruction relationship in the concept of rebirth. A pagan conception of cyclical time posits the rebirth of the universe after an inexorable death-everything born must die, but then everything dead must be reborn. In Stoicism there is a “final conflagration of all things.”⁴ Tied up with this “end of the world” was the archaic concept of the mortality of the gods. Originally, Zeus himself had to be protected from Saturn. Only with introduction of philosophy did the Greek gods lose their mortality. As recently as the Iliad, the gods were subject to physical wounds as in the case of Diomedes who injures both Ares and Aphrodite.⁵ Through history and philosophy the gods eventually became the immortals.

The mortality of the gods is maintained in Teutonic mythology. Though they live perpetually, they are susceptible to death, and given a long enough time-line, they are fated to perish. But the death of the gods and their world is not the sacred moment, but the birth of the world in the cosmogony. Much of this primordial affinity for the Beginning and prophecies of destruction are apparent in Christianity itself. The Revelation of St. John shows the world torn apart before its regeneration: “And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together; and every mountain and island were moved out of their places.”⁶ Whether literally fire or not, the heavens are torn asunder and heaven and earth are both destroyed and recreated. We have hints of what the next life might be like, specifically the Beginning. In religion, the “Future is behind us”⁷-the paradisaical Garden of Eden is the “sacred time” towards which liturgy looks and history progresses.

Even with the advent of linear time, liturgical time has persisted. Liturgy seeks to return to “sacred time”⁸ and to dwell in the holiest moments of history. The most blessed moments of the liturgical calendar are those of regeneration: Christmas, Good Friday, and especially Easter. Christmas marks the birth of God, Good Friday marks the death of God, Easter marks the resurrection of God. The liturgical calendar reenacts the historical events of faith: the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection.

Before each regeneration, there is a corresponding degeneration. Before Lent, there is Mardi Gras; before a wedding, there is a bachelor’s party; before the new year, there is new year’s eve. Though these are rarely endorsed by religious authorities, they remain ubiquitous. In some cases this “degeneration” is the pacification of demons or “Satan” but whether this behavior is “right” it is a pervasive phenomenon. Modern man continues to act mythologically even though he has forgotten his myths.

If the year is a microcosm of the cosmos, then the week would be as well. “Saturday” is most commonly attributed to the god Saturn, but according to Jacob Grimm arises instead from Saeteres-day, “the day of the insidiator.” This is a title of Loki, trapped until Ragnarök when he is freed and the world is consumed in fire. Thus, Saturday is the “mischievous” day of the week, even though modern man has forgotten the meaning of Saturday. The habit is maintained without the mythological context, even though “It’s a new week” is still very much employed. This is the source of “Sunday-morning Christians.” The new year and the new week, are both “fresh starts” and still experienced as special (if not “sacred”) moments by the most secular of modern men. The weekend remains a goal even to the most apostate: respite from labor and the beginning of a new week. The Sabbath as the day of rest establishes the new, pure, sacred time.

The holy moments of generation (and regeneration) are relived in the Eucharist, Christmas, and especially Easter. Cyclical liturgy seeks to inhabit Being itself, drawing as close to God as possible. The yearly cycle is part of this impulse which pervades all religions. Even the seven-day creation in Genesis leaves the Sabbath as an open day; unlike the others, it is given no end. Today is the Sabbath itself; Sunday is a microcosm of that cosmic Holy Day. “The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath.”⁹ As the man was not made for the world, but the world for man, so too was the sabbath made for man. After the process of creation, God rested-this is now. In Judaic tradition, the new day begins with the previous night, as the universe began with darkness. The new moon too begins with darkness, out of which light then proceeds. The entirety of human existence is the Seventh Day, the Eight Day is the end of this world and the beginning of the next.

Reliving the cosmogony continues as attempts to live close to God. People have the propensity for reliving holy moments as mere memories (memorials) but as participatory events (commemorations) such as new year’s celebrations of rebirth, seasonal changes, fertility rites, rites of passage, etc. The desire of human beings is the calm rest of Innocent Being, which can never be obtained in this life. Instead, the world follows the Heraclitean doctrine of “perpetual flux” or Siddhārtha Gautama’s “Fire Sermon”-always turning, always changing. The continual flow of the universe are perhaps the most frustrating aspect of human life. The static ecstasy (Becoming) of the human condition longs for reconciliation with ecstatic stasis (Being): “Everything is a Becoming, a flux without beginning (first cause) or end; there exists no static moment when this becoming attains to beinghood-no sooner can we conceive it by the attributes of name and form, than it has transmigrated or changed to something else.”¹⁰ This is the ultimate goal of all religions and the meaning of the image of the Phoenix: rebirth through fire, a return to Innocent Being.

The fires of eschatology are purgative flames which cleanse and regenerate degenerate beings. “Every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is.”¹¹ As fire destroys, it simultaneously creates. The destruction brought by God is not simple destruction but rather a creative-destruction. The ultimate goal of the violence of God is true peace. To put it a more shocking way, violence is the double aspect of peace. Hate too, is the double aspect of love. If God did not love us enough to hate that which harms his loved ones, would that be love at all? Against a violent world, the Prince of Peace returns at the head of an army to judge the living and the dead.

The entire world of beings suffers from “original sin”-the diffuse “guilt of Becoming weighs equally on men and gods, understanding and compassion must be extended to the blessed as well as to the unfortunate.”¹² Existence itself is grace, perfectly unmerited since “merit” requires the prerequisite of existence. The gratuitousness of existence comes from Being, the gratuitousness of Being comes from God. As a gift obligates gratitude, so too does existence itself obligate gratitude to Being. Martin Heidegger claims that man is the “shepherd of Being”¹³ and therefore waits on Being. How much more should we not wait on the source of Being itself?

The ethical obligations of grace are the essence of dwelling in the world. Forgiveness itself allows rebirth by suspending judgment of actions and ending their consequences.¹⁴ By forgoing sins, we nullify them, allowing rebirth to those whom we love. The universal gratuitousness of existence should obligate universal love for all beings. The response to the gratuitousness of existence is not license to misuse it but liberty to use it with great care. It is not a matter of the “will to power” but rather the will to let things be as they should be. An abused gift is an insult to the giver and is both ungrateful and ungracious. The image of the Phoenix reveals the possibility of grace in forgiveness-and such profound grace deserves profound gratitude.

If all existence is universal grace, our forgiveness of others should be universal too: “Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.”¹⁵ Seven is a Judaic number of completion, and Christ says that we should not merely forgive every time, but universally every time.

Seven marks completion, but the eight day marks a new beginning. Eight marks the newness after forgiveness, and the grace of Innocence Being. The days of the week are seven, but beyond time is the Eight Day, the recreation of heaven and earth by fire. The separation of the wheat from the chaff is also the incorporation into the body of the Chosen People. But incorporation is also separation from all other bodies-wheat from the chaff. Infants are circumcised on the Eight Day marking the covenant (Hebrew, berith, “cutting”) which incorporated children into the chosen people by separating them from the rest of the world. An octave begins again on the eight note, a new week starts on the eight day. Dying to the old man in order to give birth to the new man is a process of incorporation and is reflected in the image of the Phoenix. Baptism serves a similar role, revealing the symbolic union of the individual with the Church body and mirroring the cleansing of sins. Though elemental opposites, fire and water both serve with this atoning significance.

The ultimate atonement to Innocent Being is union with God or theosis. But this is not merely a final “state” but an unending process. Theosis is the telos of man, but it is not a static state, but rather an ecstatic state. Man arrives at union with God and then proceeds to learn ever more of his maker. Man’s perfection is to pogress in the perpetual process of always drawing nearer to God. Theosis is not heaven, it is now. Time need not be anything more than the unfolding of eternity, perpetual, unending. In the richness of our ignorance is the beauty of the possibility of the perpetual revelation of God, drawing us always to greater appreciation. Only through process is progress possible. The process of time is required for the progress of Being.

It is a gross misunderstanding of time to say, “Only in time, time is conquered.”¹⁶ Time is never conquered, time is good. The resolution of time kills-for example, according to Aristotle the “happy life” is only called such once it is dead. The discomfort with the “infinite” (or Becoming) is the discomfort with our own incompleteness and also the indescribable Being of God. But this is the entirety of the human condition, on earth as it is in heaven. Theosis is both the state of union with God and also the ecstasy of always drawing nearer. Death marks a threshold at which we see God face to face and are reborn.

Birth, life, and death is the natural life cycle. The resurrection marks not merely birth (natality) or the denial of death (mortality) but rather the fullness of life (maturity). As Adam was born as a mature man, so Christ was resurrected as a mature man. The pediatric and geriatric stages of life are merely part of the life cycle. The promise of the Phoenix is not the “new child” but the “new man.” The reborn Phoenix does not learn again how to fly, but leaps instantly into heaven blessed with a body glowing golden, transfigured by the very flames of death which destroyed it. While death destroys the “old man” once and for all, it creates the “new man” once and for all. The fires of death are the very radiance of the Phoenix’s new life. The Phoenix marks our re-incarnation in the new heaven and the new earth, the atonement to Innocent Being.

1John 12:24, KJV.

2While creation always accompanies destruction, destruction does not always accompany creation (viz., the creation of the universe ex nihilo).

3Arnold Van Gennep, The Rites of Passage (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960), 189.

4Patrick Sherry, Spirit and Beauty: An Introduction to Theological Aesthetics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 143.

5The Iliad,Book V.

6Revelation 6:14.

7Okakura Kakuzo, The Book of Tea (New York: Fox Duffield & Company, 1906), 151.

8Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and The Profane: The Nature of Religion(New York: Harcourt, Inc., 1957), 68.

9Mark 2:27.

 10Ananda Coomaraswamy, Buddha And The Gospel Of Buddhism (Boston: University Books, 1964), 95.

111 Corinthians 3:13.

12Rachel Bespaloff, “On the Iliad,” in War and the Iliad, trans. Mary McCarthy (New York: New York Review Books, 2005), 77.

13Martin Heidegger, “Letter on Humanism,” trans. Frank A. Capuzzi, in Pathmarks, ed. William McNeill (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 260.

14Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition, 2^nd edition, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 237.

15Matthew 18:21-22. 

16T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets (Orlando: Harcourt, Inc., 1943), 16.

Les paroles de Sonne évoquent un combat de boxe, et plus particulièrement l’un des matchs de Vitali Klitschko, considéré par beaucoup comme le meilleur boxeur du monde de sa catégorie. Le clip revisite à sa manière l’adaptation cinématographique du compte des frères Grimm : Blanche Neige et les 7 nains.