tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46605755798207744632024-03-18T18:59:30.388+01:00HarmoniaA Forum for and the Background of the Mediation of Dialogue
in Ancient and Modern AcademiesGeorgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-68961602949405788532020-05-08T16:38:00.001+02:002020-05-10T19:01:23.232+02:00Primavera<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">A third present, after the NHC fellowship and the SSHRC grant, was granted: a visiting fellowship at Clare College at Cambridge for the time after the residence at the National Humanities Centre in North Carolina. Thankful and humbled, honoured and centred I am. I could not have dreamt of a better place than Cambridge where I can discuss my book project on pleasure in its last stages. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Spring has entered the city of Toronto. Access to High Park has been forbidden but one can experience the blossom of the free cherry trees in front of the Robarts Library.</span><br />
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<span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Podrán mortar todas las Flores, pero no podrán detener la primavera. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Pablo Neruda</span>Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-37594259032855071372020-03-01T02:27:00.002+01:002021-07-23T22:07:57.380+02:00Delight, Honour, Pleasure. Seeing and Knowing.I am delighted and honoured to have received the great news that I will be the Philip L. Quinn fellow at the National Humanities Centre in North Carolina next year to work on my book project on Plato's Twofold Project on Pleasure. Prof. Quinn was both philosopher and theologian, and thus it is a special honour. To the delight, a further delight was added, the Canadian (SSHRC) Insight Grant.<br />
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A piece on the Choice of Lives in Phil. 20-22 was accepted (by Ancient Philosophy). So I am further pleased. As for the mixed seminar on Aristotle on pleasure, I think it is the best I have ever experienced so far.<br />
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To be sincere: if I would have to choose the most profound pleasure among all, I would forget all else and choose the one that is related to our seeing ourselves, not statically in a mirror but actively in a δρώμενον. On that seeing - as more fundamental than knowing - in the next project, after the one on pleasure.<br />
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Life in seeing, knowing, acting and creating develops step by step. Continuity in small steps from present to present. Presence. Centred delight and thankfulness.<br />
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A Canadian architect whose work I am fond of: Frank Gehry. He shapes buildings like ships with sails...This is a shot from the inside of the AGO.Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-72014537449218953782019-10-21T15:43:00.002+02:002021-05-21T22:51:18.224+02:00A Hidden Life, Terrence MalickPiece by piece I am moving on. All pieces address pleasure so it seems I am "stuck" with the topic for a while and till my book is finished.<br />
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The new Malick comes to town soon. Anticipating.<br />
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“But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”</div>
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― George Eliot, or else and more female sounding, Mary Ann Evans, Middlemarch (Quoted at the end of The Hidden Life)</div>
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I watched the best film I have ever watched. I<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"> love many directors and quite a lot of films but tonight I watched the best of them. I do not care whether I do injustice to all those excellent films. </span></div>
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It was the Hymn to the Earth that Heidegger was unable to write (his talk at the University about the Earth and his Vaterland was a disgrace to both). An appropriate hymn to the unhistorical acts (see Eliot, and keep in mind Nietzsche's definition of being unhistorical in his Untimely Meditations). Also a wink to turn our attention away from the many famous PhD holders and no PhD holders who supported the Hitler frenzy. Not in order to "show" there was resistance in the German-speaking countries but for the sake of revealing this concealed life of resistance, the resistance we are unable and unwilling to offer every time tyranny is present: in us or around us. As a good friend said, we do not need "more" democracy but greater resistance to tyranny.</div>
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The film was not political? When I read such nonsense in reviews (that was in NYT), I decide not to read more.</div>
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The technical aspects are stimulating as well. Terrence offers such shots for the first time. He focuses on the body and often does not take care of the faces, which are left completely out of the picture...<br />
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PS: Which philosophy faculty is going to award him the PhD title he so much deserves? Or, has he not accomplished the PhD he started with Gilbert Ryle on the Notion of World in Heidegger and Wittgenstein? And much more in his unique way?</div>
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-28927253490516733002019-06-03T01:22:00.003+02:002019-08-12T21:50:51.320+02:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRX-sCe0ZfJJgm02G5Z1MiS-zmqzbOOwFPH5pteijVmTOQ6u_oiKLdfVRHMiAYT2IAAQzyIM4ksY1Z65yrmSCHLvrRNhKKUy6GY14WCkzI7gKZxYSrGRX-XqgipQAHZ161_X-qNsWXh0k/s1600/Kleftiko%252C_Milos%252C_152805.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RRMv23nwImjxGppUWSXMTTh9cPHq8iow782jxepbz90VDUoaZZB1DygCO4acamLA9pWeTSvUb-i6Ge3vnN0j8e_W8U1fX5y4vxBWNIT7nPpEsM120-0zFtwMiijU1GvZwCCBf_AByrFU/s1600/IMG_1509.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RRMv23nwImjxGppUWSXMTTh9cPHq8iow782jxepbz90VDUoaZZB1DygCO4acamLA9pWeTSvUb-i6Ge3vnN0j8e_W8U1fX5y4vxBWNIT7nPpEsM120-0zFtwMiijU1GvZwCCBf_AByrFU/s320/IMG_1509.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Emerging Aphrodite (one of the many) in the SouthWest of the island Milos, Greece.<br />
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Μικρή Πράσινη Θάλασσα<br />
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Μικρή πράσινη θάλασσα δεκατριῶ χρονῶ<br />
Πού θά ‘θελα νά σέ υἱοθετήσω<br />
Νά σέ στείλω σχολεῖο στήν Ἰωνία <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br />Νά μάθεις μανταρίνι καί ἄψινθο<br /><br />Μικρή πράσινη θάλασσα δεκατριῶ χρονῶ<br />Στό πυργάκι τοῦ φάρου τό καταμεσήμερο<br />Νά γυρίσεις τόν ἥλιο καί ν’ ἀκούσεις<br />Πῶς ἡ μοίρα ξεγίνεται καί πῶς<br />Ἀπό λόφο σέ λόφο συνεννοοῦνται<br />Ἀκόμα οἱ μακρινοί μας συγγενεῖς<br />Πού κρατοῦν τόν ἀέρα σάν ἀγάλματα<br /><br />Μικρή πράσινη θάλασσα δεκατριῶ χρονῶ<br />Μέ τόν ἄσπρο γιακά καί τήν κορδέλα<br />Νά μπεῖς ἀπ’ τό παράθυρο στή Σμύρνη<br />Νά μοῦ ἀντιγράψεις τίς ἀντιφεγγιές στήν ὀροφή<br />Ἀπό τά Κυριελέησον καί τά Δόξα Σοι<br />Καί μέ λίγο Βοριά λίγο Λεβάντε<br />Κύμα το κύμα νά γυρίσεις πίσω<br /><br />Μικρή πράσινη θάλασσα δεκατριῶ χρονῶ<br />Γιά νά σέ κοιμηθῶ παράνομα<br />Καί νά βρίσκω βαθιά στήν ἀγκαλιά σου<br />Κομμάτια πέτρες τά λόγια τῶν Θεῶν<br />Κομμάτια πέτρες τ’ ἀποσπάσματα τοῦ Ἡράκλειτου<br /><br />Οδυσσεας Ελυτης</span><br />
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-19539436254833615462019-04-29T23:57:00.002+02:002019-06-01T21:16:38.141+02:00Borinska's Eavesdropping or the Desire to Make the Impossible Possible<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Borinska in "Andrei Rublev" by Andrei Tarkovsky.<br />
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"Hearing means bowing our heads in humility which is capable of accepting what the other person is sowing on the ground of our mind and heart. Like our rich, silent, creative earth, we should offer ourselves to the Other."<br />
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Devoted to Andrei Tarkovsky and his humble listening to Andrei Roublev, to Plato and his enigmatic listening to various types of hedonists, to Christos Hatzis and his wondrous listening to friends musicians and poets, and to a few others that have been and are capable of conducting genuine dialogue that presupposes vigilant listening.<br />
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PS: The academic year has come to an end and I can take care of the items on the research list, from pieces on the <i>Philebus</i> and the <i>Parmenides</i> over to moral psychology in late Stoicism and the chapter on the <i>Protagoras</i> in my book on pleasure and hedonism. Additionally, one wishes to get to know more of the Canadian culture and nature. So great fun in all respects.<br />
PPS: I cherish a gem on the early Stoa (if I have to choose only one), Malcolm Schofield's piece on the Present Moment, to which a gem on the later Stoics was recently added: Brad Inwood's 'Marcus Aurelius: What Kind of Stoic Are you?' Rarely does one come across pieces of art in interpretation of (ancient) philosophy. That undoubtedly belongs to the group.</div>
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-72840554729849019882019-01-31T23:59:00.001+01:002019-04-28T22:03:52.542+02:00Plasticity of the Present Moment, Marcus Aurelius<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh, how grateful I am!!! The paper on the plasticity of and how to live the present moment in Marcus Aurelius' <i>Meditations </i>got accepted! There is still some work to do, of course, as ever in writing. The peer-review process proves to be an adventurous wandering (or in one word and without additional drama, πορεία) of wonderful dialogue and a stimulating learning experience once again. This paper is very precious to me, for Stoic metaphysics and ethics of time and beyond, and will be devoted to Malcolm Schofield and his gem on "the Retrenchable Present Moment" in early Stoics, as it suits.<br />
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When gifts are given in an unexpected moment, one starts thinking anew about giving presents and being given presents. Doesn't it always happen like that with the real gifts that never emerge in archaic relationships of "giving and taking" of any sort?<br />
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First things first: the paper on Plato's argument in Phil. 20-22 needs to be completed; otherwise, we will go through a hiccup of pleasure instead of a continuous one. And who but Philebus goes for episodes of pleasures and episodic eruption of sentences here and there, sentenced to his atomic privacy as he is?! We are chatting about the <i>Philebus</i> in this term in the upper-level seminar (to be followed by the <i>Protagoras</i> and the <i>Gorgias</i>). Ben got into the facticity and factivity of pleasure and we started touching upon installing propositional pleasures in the present moment and painting living paintings and directing films...Jon came up with nothing less than my research position (in earlier and forthcoming papers and in my current book-in-progress) about the dependence of pleasures on the relationship to pain. I do not know whether it is true that we create and are responsible for our dreams, as Freud thought, but I think that this is not a dream and, for sure, I am not responsible for this, plus I love it without any doubt: this in itself and not being responsible for this! Next session: pure pleasures are no atoms but presents. During the authentic chats we had, I realized that the most important things about pure pleasures have not been published so far.<br />
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The last days we have been feeling like our lovely friends in the North that I had the delight to visit in November. Minus 40 with the windchill...<br />
But who cares about the weather? My best student ever so far, Ben Laskey, just got accepted by Cambridge University for the M.A. in (ancient) philosophy. As for my extraordinary Emily, Emily Breach, she was accepted by Queens (Kingston) for graduate studies that will focus on Plato. Congratulations and celebration of presents.<br />
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Photo of this fair lady by my fellow traveller, Dan Wright</div>
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-53493220806204277682018-10-13T16:46:00.000+02:002018-10-29T14:18:51.558+01:00That's the Spirit: Inexpressible Thankfulness (Between the Canadian and the American Thanksgiving)I just submitted my SSHRC Insight Grant proposal for my book project under contract with Brill: <i>Plato's Twofold Dialectic of Pleasure</i>: <i>Critical Dialogue with Hedonists and Critical Analysis of Pleasures</i>.<br />
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While I am resting a bit after the submission, I am thinking about how many people, colleagues and students, I am indebted to for the articulation of this project: on the one or the other side of the Channel or the Ocean. My thanks go to many people who taught me through their example that there are no "good" and "bad" quarters in which one does Plato research, nor good or bad ideologies since all ideologies are restrictive. There are, though, authentic and inauthentic ways of doing so. It would be a long discussion to get into this matter here and now...<br />
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Last but not least, I thank Nigel for offering his time despite all possible indifferents that were getting in the way and Ben for helping me see through his own fine-grained thoughts that actually I am not interested in following any polemical tone in a critique of utilitarianism as Anscombe did, and I should really not if I sincerely wish to follow Plato in his genuine dialogue with representatives of opposite views, in the case of the above project the hedonists. Dialogue as Plato conducted it has a pride of place also when it comes to his metaphysics of pleasure and it is no dressing of a salad that we might choose to add or avoid depending on our taste or lack of it. To be "dialecticians" is a title we mostly do not live up to, in and beyond Plato research. Dialogue can have an impact. This is possible if and only if we take it seriously, as seriously as Plato did, and conduct it as paradigmatically as well.<br />
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For an attempt to talk about both Plato and Marcus Aurelius projects as therapeutic, click the following link, pp. 28 ff.: <a href="https://www.kings.uwo.ca/research/king-s-cosmos/">The Therapeutic Power of Genuine Dialogue. GM. COSMOS 2018</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Preparing for <i>Harlem Duet</i> (Tarragon Toronto). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sir Olivier, blacked up, as Othello together with Smith as Desdemona (<i>Othello</i>, 1965)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Harlem Duet</i>: The story of Othello from the perspective of his first, black wife.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Archaeology of madness: A human being (aren't all black experiences human experiences?) becomes mad in a kind of ritual in which, in contrast to evolving rituals, she considers herself to be "<i>fixed</i> in the emotions of all her ancestors", and, therefore, not able to live, love and move (forward). She becomes her body. Her body's organs gain a voice and sometimes a cry. Her narrative turns into the passive vehicle of these voices. For his part, he does not become his body. "He is not his skin. His skin is not him." Reminded me of Ibsen's "Ghosts<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">" with regard to the characters' being chained to their past. Ibsen did not offer any liberation but mirrored the gloomy entanglements. <i>Harlem Duet</i> did offer liberation. The work itself was the liberation from chains to individual and collective dark past and to some glorious past (theatre) traditions.</span></span></div>
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Archaeology of Blackness: all the layers of history are present in each and every period of time. Time lived in full awareness of its being entangled with the past above all. A special lady, like any other lady, like any other human being, is narrating and becoming interwoven with her own narrative. "She is trapped in history. History is trapped in her." In her organs.</div>
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Great respect to the author, Ms Sears, for writing such a brilliant play: for the first time I am so interested in contemporary theatre. The winner is Canada and not Greece or Germany as one would think, considering long traditions of theatre, at least not to my experience. Kudos to Tarragon Theatre for being the truly avant-garde theatre I have not found in any other places in the world so far.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">An excellent stage production of a play that shows us how to make theatre history in the present by drawing material from great theatre history. Ms Sears "beside" Mr Kurosawa (think of his RAN) "beside" Sir Shakespeare. Chains of peers, chains of pearls. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bravo, Canada. </span></div>
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-12170321246063525772018-09-10T13:15:00.000+02:002018-11-03T23:34:49.039+01:00Die Heimat (One of the Footnotes to and Two of the Question Marks for the Canadian Permanent Residence)Die Heimat, Friedrich Hoelderlin<br />
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Froh kehrt der Schiffer heim an den stillen Strom<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br />Von fernen Inseln, wo er geerndtet hat;<br />Wohl möcht’ auch ich zur Heimath wieder;<br />Aber was hab’ ich, wie Laid, geerndtet? –</span></div>
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Ihr holden Ufer, die ihr mich auferzogt<br />
Stillt ihr der Liebe Laiden? ach! gebt ihr mir,<br />
Ihr Wälder meiner Kindheit, wann ich<br />
Komme, die Ruhe noch Einmal wieder?</div>
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The Return takes place continuously; again and again and in each and every moment, you have returned and you are still returning. And it has been and it is homeland, you notice or not. At some point, you might notice. And then, who knows? Look for other poets, who have found their homeland?<br />
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PS: I finally found out how exactly to bring the <i>Sophist </i>and the second part of the <i>Parmenides </i>(the two arguments at the beginning of the second deduction in particular) side by side. I am on Owen's side and on the same page with him, though<i> </i>with another story than his own in <i>EN </i>VII. A nice relief, or is it a ... pure joy?<br />
PPS: <i>Within the Glass </i>and <i>Harlemduet</i> (Tarragon Theatre), and <i>Coriolanus</i> (Stratford: brilliant direction that turned the staging into a cinematic experience, and very good acting) a nice chain of avant-garde and culture in the neighbourhood, and <i>King Lear </i>broadcast from the National Theatre London UK will add for sure (McKellen very good the rest of acting average). The circle with interesting and interested people is being further established. No time to experiment with the COC. No, thank you, we are interested in experiencing the Canadians (as anyone else) in their element. Definitely no, thank you.</div>
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-19447270333998381852018-07-16T02:48:00.004+02:002018-08-31T14:17:56.655+02:00Piece By Piece, and Step By Step. Deserts and Oases.<br />
When one has tried a lot and for a long time and to no avail to find people to talk with about things one cares a lot (if not the most), in a city that sends ten people to the new Malick's, and she has almost given up hope at the place of her residence, it seems like a small miracle that "all of a sudden" there is a theatre reading circle and a second proposal from another circle for theatre as well. Is she dreaming now? Or, was it a bad, too bad of a dream? We started with William's <i>The Night of Iguana</i> and are turning the page to Wilson's <i>Fences </i>and Osborne's <i>Look Back In Anger</i>.<br />
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Is it all of a sudden? Or, is this exactly the right time, as one has grown up to the task by now? One has been closing her eyes, imagining and nurturing the idea of the not-to-be-found (?) oasis in this desert of all neighbourhoods. She must have thought of the ideal fervently and for a long time. And here the newly-born ideal, already and timely dressed up in real and elaborate chats in the here and now. Let us think about the desert from the perspective of the oasis. My dearest Plato, indeed the love of ideals is a great motivator, and the particular chats with individuals pave our way to their realization. How well you have been teaching us, dear.<br />
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On another note, or rather, along the same lines, I was delighted to learn from all the people who commented on a paper on the philosophers' pleasures of learning in the<i> Phaedo </i>that was first aired at our Western Plato Conference 2016 and I am thankful for many chats with many individuals ever since (am I repeating my message?). It has been accepted by <i>Classical Quarterly,</i> in the meantime. Now I am working on something else and then another piece. Always in dialogue. The rhythm is given by the exchanges with individuals all way long. Thanks, Nick, for making me listen to myself in San Diego that evening (the greatest virtue of the dialectician it is, for sure much more difficult than to simply listen to the interlocutor): I started with love of types and, oh Dieu, ended with love of individuals, or, if you wish, the Diotima's ladder upside down, even if not à la Alcibiades.<br />
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The Director of Miracles. Tarkovsky. From his <i>Mirror.</i></div>
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PS: Subtle caution prevails against experiencing too mediocre, if not devastating, performances at Stratford ON or COC Toronto (sorry: it does not suffice to have a director from Berlin!), at least not before scrutinizing critiques...After an unparalleled <i>King Lear </i>in NYC (BAM), and before <i>Othello</i> at the Globe London UK, there is no space for spoiled moments.</div>
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PPS: Conferences are announced that create strong conflicts in one. How nice it would be to propose the piece on dialectical power as the power to make one listen to and get to know oneself for the conference on Alcibiades I at Cambridge this coming fall. I had to hold me back throughout the period of submission of abstracts, after the very intriguing year of reading this dialogue at NYU. One wishes one had more heads, hearts and, if not, for sure, time... Discernment is a virtue to acquire and further cultivate on all possible levels.</div>
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As for the end of the summer and after a conference at King's College UK, the most beautiful Greek sea of all I have swum so far and the most awesome company of all I know. Are we there yet? Nope. In the meantime, my salsa teacher says I am dancing like a swimmer...not a compliment (though not as bad as "dancing like...a scuba-diver"!!) I am getting there and the process is fun.</div>
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<b>After the multiple fires and the many deaths in Greece</b>: our prayers are with the people there as they are with many others all around the world. How many crimes were committed that led to the eighty-seven deaths in the areas close to Athens! And on top of everything, (small) part of the so-called orthodox clergy is drawing from the Old Testament, complacently describing and resentfully fighting for a God that punishes and burns. Absolutely no limit nor discernment when and where it is most needed: in each and every moment. May we learn how to learn it, each of us differently. Ideologists' utterance and silence smell blood: in and out of churches one can search for and find refuge for one's bloated ego and many more passions and pathologies. Discernment.</div>
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The last scene from Tarkovsky's <i>Sacrifice</i>.</div>
Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-82840896331269989392018-03-03T22:28:00.000+01:002018-03-26T02:08:59.617+02:00Yes.Yes. I found the right way to put Chrysippus and Marcus Aurelius side by side.<br />
"Plasticity of the Present Moment".<br />
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No time, but lots of presence.<br />
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Yes, and yes, again. Paris. Did I say...yes?<br />
<strike> </strike>I had not intended to or imagined that I would turn from my work on pleasure to metaphysics (again) and a paper on Plato's <i>Parmenides</i> (and Plotinus) due to devastation in culture! Thank you so much Canada for giving me the right kick for that<strike>--</strike> <i>Any </i>thing can be turned into a gift...Are we ready for the San Diego APA and Marcus Aurelius?<br />
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If only Plato would read this...culture (or lack of it) motivating one to return to metaphysics...<br />
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<br />Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-871731417490570142018-02-19T20:23:00.000+01:002018-04-09T23:00:26.610+02:00The (very) Good, the (very) Bad, and the CanadianCultural experiences of the last weeks as (sometimes beautiful) breaks in a busy term:<br />
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<b>The excellent: </b>Fritz Lang's "M". Different language versions. As with all excellence, it belongs to the entire world.<br />
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Peter Lorre in the magnificent last scene...the scene that the Nazis some years afterwards misused for their own purposes.<br />
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<b>The very good</b>: Anderson's new film <i>The Phantom Thread, </i>screened in many places in the world right now. The music by Greenwood (leading guitarist of Radiohead, and composer) still in my ears.<br />
<b>The very bad</b>: <i>Silence</i>, Grand Theatre, London Ontario. Bad theatre could be written and staged at any place in the world.<br />
<b>The Canadian</b>: <i>The Abduction from the Seraglio</i> (subtitle: on how to "kill" Mozart for the sake of "political correctness" and lack of modesty), COC Toronto. This is a Canadian product (it could not have been produced anywhere else), not of the sort I have experienced so far, but the worst cultural event in the country where I now live. One really needs to ask for details at COC in advance and before choosing the operas for the subscription, if one ever does it again and does not, instead, fly to Berlin, attend three operas, and come back after three days. Incredible that they went for treating an opera like a pizza, to be cut in pieces, interrupted by intermezzos of lowest level of added theatre writing (a la "All people have a heart and love, in both the West and the East"), and served to us, the customers. We might start sympathizing with Bentham...Which was greater? The KEG Mansion pleasure or the opera pleasure? Do not ask me which of the two was the aesthetic one, as I am wondering. As for the rest of my thought, I censor it.<br />
Why can they (because a lot of mediocre elements had to be combined to create such a failure for Canada) not look upon Kurosawa's <i>Ran</i>? It does not matter where from one comes nor where one might go, but what one does and how one does it. What does Kurosawa do with his <i>Ran</i> and how does he do it? He transfers King Lear into the Japanese landscape. He does not dare call it "King Lear", though. And what do we get? Shining modesty and a shining masterpiece, to stand beside Shakespeare's work.<br />
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<u>Recovering the Canadian Shock</u>: Thank God (or gods, or Allah: am I enough politically correct?), there was the Broadcast of National Theatre UK this week and they brilliantly interpreted and performed Tennessee Williams' <i>A Cat on a Hot Thin Roof </i>(not my best of his, but, as all his pieces, excellent in penetrating human relationships). A particularly strong acting by o' Connell in the second act. I recovered from the lowest level served (yes, served) in Grand Theater London ON and COC Toronto. Now I am good, but still talk a lot about the cultural shocks.<br />
<u>Link to the Critique in Toronto Star</u>:<br />
<a href="https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/stage/review/2018/02/08/canadian-opera-companys-updated-abduction-from-the-seraglio-a-mess-in-all-but-the-music.html">https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/stage/review/2018/02/08/canadian-opera-companys-updated-abduction-from-the-seraglio-a-mess-in-all-but-the-music.html</a><br />
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<br />Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-38624075521706645072017-12-31T22:03:00.003+01:002018-02-08T21:03:49.445+01:00Teachers...Teachers...and Teachers...<br />
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ὁ νοῦν ἔχων γεωργός, ὧν σπερμάτων κήδοιτο καὶ ἔγκαρπα βούλοιτο γενέσθαι, πότερα σπουδῇ ἂν θέρους εἰς Ἀδώνιδος κήπους ἀρῶν χαίροι θεωρῶν καλοὺς ἐν ἡμέραισιν ὀκτὼ γιγνομένους, ἢ ταῦτα μὲν δὴ παιδιᾶς τε καὶ ἑορτῆς χάριν δρῴη ἄν, ὅτε καὶ ποιοῖ· ἐφ' οἷς δὲ ἐσπούδακεν, τῇ γεωργικῇ χρώμενος ἂν τέχνῃ, σπείρας εἰς τὸ προσῆκον, ἀγαπῴη ἂν ἐν ὀγδόῳ μηνὶ ὅσα ἔσπειρεν τέλος λαβόντα; (<i>Phdr</i>. 276b2-8). Plato's words for the philosopher as a patient farmer against the background of Van Gogh's Sower.</div>
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Thinking of teachers, I remember Lesley Brown at Somerville Oxford (thanks to her piece on totalitarianism in Plato's <i>Republic </i>that I am reading for my <i>Republic </i>seminar), someone who taught me (among other things) what it means to be a teacher in many ways, and she still does, in written work and beyond. How much I would like to turn back time (and I do not say this so often) and read the <i>Nicomachean Ethics</i> or the <i>Republic </i>and the <i>Sophist</i> with her, and experience again her delight in her student's progress, even if the student disagrees with her or Ackrill, the combination of her confidence and humility, and her analytical virtue for detail and her charisma to draw attention to details that change entire pictures and readings. How much I would like to turn back time for some more time at Somerville!<br />
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PS: We have been developing some solidarity with polar bears as of late. Finally, some real Canadian winter came to town. Plenty of opera in Toronto in the New Year. And lots of fun in Plato's <i>Republic</i> and other texts.<br />
PPS1: On other Teachers...Daniel Day-Lewis plays in a new film by Anderson (second time working with him after his film <i>There Will Be Blood</i>), the <i>Phantom Thread</i>, and says it will be his last one. This is sufficient for the film happiness of the year, and may he, one of our dearest darling actors, play his first and last films again and again. For they are all his first and last films!<br />
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PPS2: Apropos teaching as learning and acting vs. mere imitating, and while waiting for Daniel to come to this province called London Ontario (now screened in Toronto)...Peter o' Toole as <i>Lawrence of Arabia, </i>which we enjoyed watching with the wonderful London cine-gang, made me think throughout the entire blooming length of the old epic film by David Lean (1963) that he must have been best on stage and, in particular, Shakespeare. I found out afterwards that he was a blessed stage actor and he did a lot of Shakespeare, for which he was ready already 1963. Alas, his version of <i>Hamlet </i>(directed by Olivier: just imagine that collaboration!) was not filmed. Fate in both the history of philosophy and art can be really ferocious!<br />
And we, greedy hunters of beauty and truth, have to learn not only how to chase beauty or truth, that is *not* like a piece of meat to be grasped and consumed (in a not musical manner, Plato would add) but also to take a step back and admire the beauty we have and the truth we attain, and also learn how to miss the beauty that is not accessible to us and how to anticipate the truth to be gained tomorrow and in the years to come, again in a musical manner. Greediness is not a sign of lovers of knowledge and beauty, even if they focus on the intelligible realm. This is not a statement about the ontology and epistemology of Plato's Line but a note to his sensitivity to beauty, which we so very much lack. And to lack such a good can only be...bad, right? And how worse do things become when we do not even notice?<br />
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-35449224628384346892017-11-28T18:49:00.002+01:002017-12-31T22:02:40.801+01:00Bodily and Intellectual Pains and Pleasures<div style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, Times, "Times New Roman", sans-serif;">
I gave a paper at McMaster last week. It was (large) part of the <i>Phaedo </i>paper on the philosophers' pleasures of learning, as it has become in the meantime, thanks to wise critical comments and even wiser, amazingly wiser, constructive proposals. It was the best Q&A I ever had. There were many relevant questions on the Platonic pleasure project, made not only by faculty members but also by very promising graduate students: having made heavy use of the Philebus, it had to be examined to what extent I tread carefully as I should, and also, to what extent my analysis of the relation between pleasure and pain in the case of bodily and intellectual pleasures (the ones related to learning, like examining or teaching) is sound. </div>
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But I was also pushed beyond the boundaries of the paper, and in very interesting ways, though it does not always happen to get this particular combination: One question, asked by Mark Johnstone, concerned Socrates' cheerfulness. Having focused on the Socrates of the <i>Philebus </i>and the <i>Phaedo</i>, my Socrateses were to say the least quite knowledgeable. But what about the other versions? How were they motivated if not by the uplifting possibility of attaining knowledge (<i>Apology</i>'s oracle and the Socratic interpretation; as of late line represented by Rusty Jones' <i>Socrates Felix</i>?)? That mystery the paper does not solve (if the right way to deal with mysteries is by solving them), definitely not. I do not turn to claims on happiness from claims about pleasure, given that I think that Plato is not an hedonist and even less a utilitarian. But could we say and think as possible that those less "cheerful" portrays of Socrates were motivated by the possibilities of being refuted, and this small bit of progress made in those cases?</div>
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There was another marvellous question, I think by far the best I have gotten so far when giving papers on Plato and other chaps: Let us imagine that Oedipus (the one after all "self-knowledge" has happened and the deeds that followed it) and Socrates are in the same room. What kind of therapy would Socrates offer him? Well, for sure I would not like to be present in that room! I doubt that Socrates and his excellent cognitive therapy of intellectual depression can help there. Are we going to deliver him to psychoanalysis? Before deciding, we need to think harder.<br />
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Did you know that Hans-Georg Gadamer taught for three consecutive years as visiting professor at McMaster? How small the world has always been, and open to dialogue!<br />
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-87586137445638604022017-11-14T20:48:00.003+01:002017-11-28T18:45:25.916+01:00Fruits of PatienceWhile the fall term was establishing itself in its frantic rhythms, and I was feeling more of a machine than a ghost, Stratford Ontario offered me the marvellous opportunity to experience two Shakespeare Classics again, and taste life's topsy-turviness from the comic and the tragic perspective: <i>Twelfth Night</i> and <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>. With all due respect to living the present moment and taking a delight in doing so, the acting was mostly disappointing, but I was motivated to watch some good, older performances with actors and actresses who were acting well instead of shouting lots. So all's well that ends well: Stratford was a (good) means to further good ends. Admittedly it is extremely daring and challenging to stage such classics. But why such a haste to stage Shakespeare? Why, for instance, turn a forty-year old actor into a Lear some years ago? Why such a rush, I am wondering.<br />
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And then European beauty entered (or in this case rather flooded) the scene in deed as beauty often does, seemingly suddenly, with a film masterpiece and love letter to Van Gogh:<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8xcLdOjX6w">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8xcLdOjX6w</a><br />
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As for now, I am pleasantly anticipating some mesmerizing acting (one does not need more than two minutes to say that), <i>King Lear</i>, by Royal Shakespeare Company with Antony Sher in NYC next year:<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lW4bEi1_RdQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lW4bEi1_RdQ</a><br />
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While the term is coming to its end, I am working on Aristotle on Plato on pleasure (or how one becomes his own man by listening to another man), and, what a delight, on French, among other, much more important wonders. A couple of students amazed me. I am meeting and working with them so that the next steps are taken. I screened Malick's <i>The Knight of Cups; </i>perhaps Kurosawa's<i> Idiot </i>will follow.<br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;">PS: </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Three Women at the Spring</span><span style="text-align: center;">, Picasso, </span><span style="text-align: center;">and </span><span style="text-align: center;">"a line going for a walk"</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">(Klee's definition of drawing), </span><span style="text-align: center;">or else, </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Portrait of an Equilibrist</span><span style="text-align: center;">, Klee, MoMA NYC</span><span style="font-style: italic;">)</span></div>
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<span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><br /></span><span style="text-align: center;">PPS: Avant-garde is alive, and not only to be found in museums. See, for instance, how a young Greek artist, Fikos, marries byzantine art and ancient Greek motives with street art, which he calls "contemporary byzantine art":</span><br />
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His <i>Earth and Sky</i></div>
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(for more consider: <a href="http://fikos.gr/portfolio/?lang=en">http://fikos.gr/portfolio/?lang=en</a>)<br />
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-67052500025684414362017-07-26T04:50:00.000+02:002017-08-13T02:09:02.171+02:00Amidst Summer 2017. A Strange Weighing of Value"Αν κάποιος παράξενος των αξιών ζυγιαστής με πειθανάγκαζε να διαλέξω αποκλειστικά μεταξύ Παπαδιαμάντη και Καρκαβίτσα θα έστεκα ευλαβικά μπροστά στον πρώτο, θα του φιλούσα το χέρι και θα ψήφιζα τον δεύτερο."<br />
<span style="text-align: right;"> Κωστής Παλαμάς</span><br />
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There has not been that much time available for literature in this summer, but after reading and discussing some Karkavitsas (Τα Λόγια της Πλώρης) we cannot but disagree with Palamas' words, our poet who has been sensitive and always hitting the mark in his analyses of other poets. We would do it the other way round: if compelled to choose, we would kiss Karkavitsas' hand, show gratitude to him for his fairy stories and his dreamingly embellished language, turning a deaf ear to his naive nationalism, so characteristic of the end of the 19th century in Greece, and vote for Papadiamantis.</div>
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How new London seems to be, or, rather, how delighted I am to discover new corners in it after coming back home. A spirit of discovery and adventure moves my dreams when asleep and my feet when awake: the adventure of feeling at home. How did this perspective emerge?<br />
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Pleasure and hedonism is the nutritious meal served on the plate for work for the time being, accompanied by some stimulating comments made by a referee who invites me to think together two aspects I tried to keep separated. So my lacks are being filled. Finally and only one step before despair for culture in the part of the world we live in, a friend and cinephil started screening masterpieces in the small cinema he has created. I had not watched Kurosawa's <i>Seven Samurai</i>. Nor Murnau's <i>Sunrise</i>. Each and every scene in the latter I wished to interrupt and point to it: ὅδε ὁ κόσμος. I did not notice how time passed in the former; I wanted it to continue and wished to watch all his films in a row and without intermission: starting with <i>The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail </i>(like Noh theater, with the addition of the Shakespeare's fool, marching through Japanese landscape: the only type of nationalism that my taste embraces)<i>,</i> moving to his <i>Ikiru</i>... Masters of beauty may lead the way; philosophers and non-philosophers.</div>
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Remnants of three Ionian windmills<br />
I must discover Canada's spectacular nature, but I always postpone because of spending my leisure swimming in the Greek sea. The lovely loners, the polar bears of Churchill and other places, will have to wait.<br />
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No nature for now. Just work and culture. No Wagner at the COC this year, so no risk. I subscribed.Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-67491034328584091432017-05-24T00:47:00.001+02:002017-07-21T01:14:23.783+02:00Between Spring and Summer 2017An excellent <i>Tosca </i>performance and an - as ever - inspirational - to say the least - Eifman's ballet, <i>Red Giselle,</i> in Toronto as the home for international avant-garde.<br />
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A very fruitful workshop on Plato's <i>Gorgias </i>in UCD (on my side of the ocean, Davis CA, not Dublin).<br />
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Now back to finishing business on an accepted piece.<br />
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Then a Plato workshop in Paris, in a Europe that gives me delight every time I visit (determined to spend a week in the Louvre this time; last visit was exclusively devoted to Rodin's Museum; and also determined to get back to the French liaisons after summer), and makes me numb whenever I hear about how and into what it is being transformed.<br />
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Then Greece and other pieces to finish, and for sure Papadiamantis and perhaps the early and the very last Angelopoulos for a couple of evenings: some among the chosen Greeks for this summer. Ernest Hemingway's language proved to be slightly disappointing, compared to the raised expectations, and so I decided to return to some Greeks, as far as literature breaks are concerned, not because of their being Greek, but because of the familiarity with the joy I take in their language.<br />
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Mere <i>parataxis</i>: no time for adding verbs, no time for formulating sentences, at least not on this blog; no time or soul to waste on imposing interpretations on the present moments: let the latter complete themselves in due time, a time we cannot force to emerge according to our whims and whose emergence we are bound not to miss. The Ascension of Christ is about to be welcomed in our time progression.<br />
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PS: It is only after the performances at the COC that I listen to Maria Callas. The same again with <i>Tosca. </i>Such an abysmal fragility in this superb voice; so much lurking egocentrism at the same time: or, is that combination surprising?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUKTpUxJ_xJDAZR2Ae2jwISM4Rlqb9jjCuh48EqGv_x_6hgAqNhCHT9kdZ_CHZFVQaEq452o0NEyNnhJx_MMXOl_hYxqq5gBKiyp_gjh-Gwy6_mk9coA_v8uC8gWAnP9iyGl5ap6zqGNW1/s1600/red+giselle_Eifman_Toronto+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUKTpUxJ_xJDAZR2Ae2jwISM4Rlqb9jjCuh48EqGv_x_6hgAqNhCHT9kdZ_CHZFVQaEq452o0NEyNnhJx_MMXOl_hYxqq5gBKiyp_gjh-Gwy6_mk9coA_v8uC8gWAnP9iyGl5ap6zqGNW1/s320/red+giselle_Eifman_Toronto+2017.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Olga Spessivtseva, the extraordinary Russian ballerina, is the focus of Eifman's <i>Red Giselle</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzh0tdIaaum26hz23CvipPoWIczbig3dq1zQlBkRDFxCFt7fUjVXtMEY7Y2IhFOMcySbjaOshtz0j1VnUxkzKvtjQhZNDWbQtmT5pFh62Axi5WA4CIav4_Uz-EsGux7xEwtF_mm6LJNDd/s1600/IMG_3487.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzh0tdIaaum26hz23CvipPoWIczbig3dq1zQlBkRDFxCFt7fUjVXtMEY7Y2IhFOMcySbjaOshtz0j1VnUxkzKvtjQhZNDWbQtmT5pFh62Axi5WA4CIav4_Uz-EsGux7xEwtF_mm6LJNDd/s320/IMG_3487.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbzmtvzjnEMdFSPTtq8RozsNsXdvYDrD3TBXRCI8v-KzsAcTFkt8-0fDw_GU9g5WB_AcdddPOqFDScZDoH3VRVmcAwoO4KEs1hDViGdeMIU1O2YQBU8itonr6xasqgPseGQfTLEDzj2Dq/s1600/IMG_4245.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbzmtvzjnEMdFSPTtq8RozsNsXdvYDrD3TBXRCI8v-KzsAcTFkt8-0fDw_GU9g5WB_AcdddPOqFDScZDoH3VRVmcAwoO4KEs1hDViGdeMIU1O2YQBU8itonr6xasqgPseGQfTLEDzj2Dq/s320/IMG_4245.JPG" width="320" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Vermeer was travelling and absent from Louvre, but there was so much compensation for that; for instance, dozens of Delacroix, here his<i> Souliotisses</i> and his (pretty small) <i>Pietà</i>: plenty of an opportunity to admire and study his greatness in painting a bunch of human bodies as if woven together into a whole. I know no one but Rubens and him who are so successful in this undertaking.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2L6LdNq7by2yehHCUWGzgz88frVvwLIpPiiksUaPN83kvWUigbcy6LzQ0OUEiQg_lHGI9oOGyZQ-_pwdwPWQkcGPN4FTAFR2NmiuXyrM1w8Yr5_D8gOTbslxTCqBekDjz06wRERQvXwS/s1600/IMG_4463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2L6LdNq7by2yehHCUWGzgz88frVvwLIpPiiksUaPN83kvWUigbcy6LzQ0OUEiQg_lHGI9oOGyZQ-_pwdwPWQkcGPN4FTAFR2NmiuXyrM1w8Yr5_D8gOTbslxTCqBekDjz06wRERQvXwS/s320/IMG_4463.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span>
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If Sirens were in need of a particular place to be in so as to exist, this could be it.Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-78346613605192055382017-04-08T07:37:00.000+02:002017-04-12T06:55:13.555+02:00On Chrysippus' and Marcus Aurelius' Cylinders and Other ImagesThe Marcus Aurelius' seminar was the second best I have ever given. Pure pleasure of learning was mixed with pure pleasure of teaching. Particularly interesting sessions, if I have to choose only two among them, were the ones devoted to the metaphor of the cylinder, as applied by Chrysippus and Marcus Aurelius, and the one on the notion of time and the present moment in early Stoa (the subtle work on the meta-physics of time and grammar) and the primacy of the present moment in Marcus Aurelius.<br />
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Classes came to an end and a marvellous interdisciplinary conference on psychotherapy took place in Glasgow. On the way back and over the ocean, I was enjoying reading Scottish Folk and Fairy Tales, Sir Conan Doyle, Alasdair MacLean and Joseph Jacobs. Some stories float like bubbles that are carried away by the evening breeze. Some others, like the Scottish, root in the earth instead, haunted by the past narratives and pregnant with the future retellings.<br />
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Time has been unraveling like a spring flower whose scent anticipates Easter.<br />
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Bellini's Madonna in Kelvingrove Art Gallery (Glasgow).<br />
One of those blues that one would like to gaze at in all eternity<br />
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PS: It was possible to say goodbye to Europe and return to London Ontario after Glasgow. Things might prove to be slightly more difficult with Paris later this year.</div>
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-87028341793635986002017-02-09T04:56:00.003+01:002017-03-18T00:48:32.294+01:00Varley's Portrays and Wagner's Götterdämmerung (COC 2017)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ViRXrKcGUyf5QB21b-8adzbm0guLDyk_4G1MQlSOP5oyb9BKf6YgNjVmuIvZYE62jXoO-4VlXx_h1sYHM_ek10SLoIMGkCVNnIhTruaQqYlM5-FHskDQQ9z_K6n-eRDl2Gg7OdCYd7X_/s1600/varley_sunflowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ViRXrKcGUyf5QB21b-8adzbm0guLDyk_4G1MQlSOP5oyb9BKf6YgNjVmuIvZYE62jXoO-4VlXx_h1sYHM_ek10SLoIMGkCVNnIhTruaQqYlM5-FHskDQQ9z_K6n-eRDl2Gg7OdCYd7X_/s320/varley_sunflowers.jpg" width="264" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5uvNy4VIjApf1NtyDCXVE0GydcupHIMmEu-_H0us3w6zJhbYO6bqTocPphHG-LLVlybwJv40zezMOyLBTmOwnYUp-_Bw7h2dZik4041zVjsT2LjkILslI4ehH1V9GQrChJG1RuktJDy3/s1600/0-eus-d1-f03a07d4a1a174286b51df61907910fd.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEtaBfr1Lle69ha62-Jws311nafO_CKdfSaQ-DAv1OZNnjAm6zdf2GNfViqymehyphenhyphen6ptPvXlJSW45jVe1GSIj3bgzl9JkdcXyFto6Y4L5SuIc78sfIWqNkMJOMkPCWuSC8bx_fZ9d1nSM7r/s1600/0-eus-d3-736d6804e2e2bbea5bd6cad08814e543.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsu6M5KTJyl9PGiC8GmIBvOmsxvseaRkHqIuShX74QkW9Cgpyvo8eevkvs0VeM8KJh4Cf6z0_WawbVYFxL3Cek9cf9VHPBLBx7iD84RaxdKokWZJ5PlFpmLVLfTIJ8fK8Y7uvpECQ-biNV/s1600/IMG_20170204_143613841.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY7HhRvu7-T5Zbu2Wlt_1xHuw17MIj5HucCOQrwtRLvKNS5iaaUUjhJPPI7S1H4sgurm0ySGC_aK9TyYGTuCC113YyR44Qlw2W-aYEf34bhNFNfmSn_2a3YaseQYUfzCtOqalYT_4Xf_SB/s1600/IMG_20170204_142930397.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOunI7SDKIU8JPiB4blQNSE5IjL54mA0rfOGH5slE0Tob5HIGMJdCob9xLy6uc2k1RVovJESGGUGMW3Ady4iuAc-fP80GA1yjRKHvKQV7GzRg-h1zv5ENoPLJ497uAJBN1pOosvjh7Mmo/s1600/IMG_20170204_142543299.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOunI7SDKIU8JPiB4blQNSE5IjL54mA0rfOGH5slE0Tob5HIGMJdCob9xLy6uc2k1RVovJESGGUGMW3Ady4iuAc-fP80GA1yjRKHvKQV7GzRg-h1zv5ENoPLJ497uAJBN1pOosvjh7Mmo/s320/IMG_20170204_142543299.jpg" width="320" /></a><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY7HhRvu7-T5Zbu2Wlt_1xHuw17MIj5HucCOQrwtRLvKNS5iaaUUjhJPPI7S1H4sgurm0ySGC_aK9TyYGTuCC113YyR44Qlw2W-aYEf34bhNFNfmSn_2a3YaseQYUfzCtOqalYT_4Xf_SB/s320/IMG_20170204_142930397.jpg" width="320" /><br />
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"Art is not merely recording surface life: incidents, emotions. The Artist divines the causes beneath which create the outward result." F.H.Varley<br />
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsu6M5KTJyl9PGiC8GmIBvOmsxvseaRkHqIuShX74QkW9Cgpyvo8eevkvs0VeM8KJh4Cf6z0_WawbVYFxL3Cek9cf9VHPBLBx7iD84RaxdKokWZJ5PlFpmLVLfTIJ8fK8Y7uvpECQ-biNV/s320/IMG_20170204_143613841.jpg" width="240" /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEtaBfr1Lle69ha62-Jws311nafO_CKdfSaQ-DAv1OZNnjAm6zdf2GNfViqymehyphenhyphen6ptPvXlJSW45jVe1GSIj3bgzl9JkdcXyFto6Y4L5SuIc78sfIWqNkMJOMkPCWuSC8bx_fZ9d1nSM7r/s320/0-eus-d3-736d6804e2e2bbea5bd6cad08814e543.jpg" width="240" /><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5uvNy4VIjApf1NtyDCXVE0GydcupHIMmEu-_H0us3w6zJhbYO6bqTocPphHG-LLVlybwJv40zezMOyLBTmOwnYUp-_Bw7h2dZik4041zVjsT2LjkILslI4ehH1V9GQrChJG1RuktJDy3/s320/0-eus-d1-f03a07d4a1a174286b51df61907910fd.jpg" width="240" /><br />
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Another discovery, another painter among "the Seven", one of the finest: Varley the portraitist. Everything he has painted is a portrait: sometimes humans, crowds of immigrants or his life companion, sometimes suns and trees or mountains, and once Ferdinand the Bull under a tree (or did Ferdinand transform into the tree? Hard to tell...). His British finesse in discovering landscapes in faces and the way he portrayed landscapes was embraced by the Canadian "Group of Seven", and Sheffield's painter co-defined Canadian painting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaOCXERNGI236BCaafMmSeAdika2c_RWz2oBl0_VfJL9O70qxCNRZ5hSHYfrGgfZXeAX7Btb1f6jzRj-luxUJq9trAa9DlEo69QCMo507iP1iM4inUg3OZCMf5KydFh3w5VATO54nPQgDs/s1600/Gotterdammerung+-+Finale+with+Rheinmaidens+1138.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaOCXERNGI236BCaafMmSeAdika2c_RWz2oBl0_VfJL9O70qxCNRZ5hSHYfrGgfZXeAX7Btb1f6jzRj-luxUJq9trAa9DlEo69QCMo507iP1iM4inUg3OZCMf5KydFh3w5VATO54nPQgDs/s320/Gotterdammerung+-+Finale+with+Rheinmaidens+1138.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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The last part of Wagner's <i>Ring</i> at the COC had a terrible staging and great voices. The first and last scenes were excellent, but the way that what happened in between was staged was not that harmonious with the lines of the text: businessmen on a large office desk singing about sacrificing oxen...and Brunnhilde sitting on an office chair while rolling down the hill of her passion...Really? Oh how unbearable that was. Why not choose Gogol, whom I particularly like, instead, and leave aside Wagner if one wishes to highlight the struggle of classes? Oh how I miss Germany sometimes. That said, so far there have been only good experiences with Wagner in Toronto, namely, with Walkuere and Siegfried.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpOmOIt4WTX24nFIIymt_ZiDIoTtSR1ZTTxgc52KCMygwFLg0m1HG1T4RiI7uXWydxgSAmRMlLG_cBGQOlUUkB47-fBjR9ES1NAbxL3LhmuhuhcXn37svhkv3dXaxx1fCHvxusqWObqEyI/s1600/COC_wagner+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpOmOIt4WTX24nFIIymt_ZiDIoTtSR1ZTTxgc52KCMygwFLg0m1HG1T4RiI7uXWydxgSAmRMlLG_cBGQOlUUkB47-fBjR9ES1NAbxL3LhmuhuhcXn37svhkv3dXaxx1fCHvxusqWObqEyI/s320/COC_wagner+2017.jpg" width="320" /></a>Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-85385032640873558652016-09-02T19:46:00.001+02:002016-10-24T22:24:29.961+02:00Beginning of the New Academic Year 2016/17<div style="text-align: right;">
Verum gaudium res severa est.</div>
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Preserving some fond memories of stimulating philosophical discussions in Marco Zingano's circle in <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">S<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">ã</span>o </span>Paulo (on Plato's immortality in the <i>Phaedo </i>and the tripartition of the soul in the <i>Republic</i>), I am back in London's fall. I have been enjoying taking care of the last paper on Marcus while also setting up the WT upper level class on my beloved Stoic philosopher and emperor, with the focus on plasticity of mind and time.<br />
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For now I am having a great time in the class and out of it. For our <i>Phaedo</i> bit, I have been asking my students to come up with their explanation of why Socrates' friends are saddened and fall into despair after the two objections that Simmers and Cebes raise, whereas Socrates himself is not depressed when his expectations are not met by Anaxagoras. We are reading the <i>Phaedo </i>as a dialogue that makes a fuss, and rightly so, about the right attitude toward pleasure and the bodily realm, and toward arguments. No surprise that the piece on the pure pleasures of learning in the <i>Phaedo</i> is being expanded.<br />
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Step by step, I am preparing myself for the last session and the metaphor of the cylinder and the problem of determinism and compatibilism in Stoicism: both Chrysippus' and Marcus Aurelius' cylinders. It is a pleasure to get some good help on this.<br />
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PS: My attention was lately drawn to the poem "Golden Anniversary", composed by the Polish poet, who was awarded with the Nobel prize in literature 1996, Wislawa Szymborska. The original is in Polish. The beauty radiates in the English translation, and amazingly so. Some of Alice Munro's short stories from her "Runaway", on three of which Almodóvar based his last film, and which I had wished to read, have been back-burnered.<br />
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PPS: I am very happy that I will be presenting on Marcus Aurelius, the experience of time and the cure of affective disorders at an interdisciplinary conference in Glasgow next year, a venue that is devoted to psychotherapy. This I call <i>the </i>delight of 2016. I wish the good trends of collaboration between mental health people and philosophers, among others, would spread in North America. UK is blazing a trail. Let's learn <i>how </i>to follow.<br />
<br />Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-26091537318153519412016-08-21T21:05:00.000+02:002016-08-29T18:01:56.704+02:00Poets and Painters Defining the Language and the Light of a Land<div style="text-align: center;">
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Carlos Drummond de Andrade and his poem <i>A Mesa</i></div>
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(in which I encounter "the Brazilian"as he constructs it, </div>
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and which was considered to be his best by Elizabeth Bishop)</div>
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José Ferraz de Almeida Junior<br />
<i>Study for the Flight of the Holy Family to Egypt</i><br />
Pinacoteca de São Paulo.<br />
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Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-37848777523037535612016-07-16T16:42:00.005+02:002017-04-13T23:55:02.179+02:00Another World: International Plato Society Conference at Brasília, and São Paulo<div style="text-align: justify;">
The IPS conference that took place at Brasília was impressively well organised, so we all thanked Gabriele Cornelli and his team for this. There were many opportunities to discuss the work of young people and equally many opportunities to enjoy the work, with which one is familiar with, of people we highly appreciate and deeply cherish. I was in the pleasure session, together with Richard Parry and Dino de Sanctis, arguing for the thesis that there is a special joy that accompanies the philosopher, in any case Socrates, that is undisturbed by any impediments and twists in the learning adventures. Satochi made a very fine-grained remark, fine as he is, in one of the following chats, which had a life of their own, it seemed to me, that my argument reminded him of Socrates' remark about the swans. They may appear to be sad at the end of their lives, but they are not. David came up with a new model about the aporia as preceding the pleasure of getting to know as a neutral state. Paulo and Michal pressed me on the pleasures related to the myth, whereas Arnaud asked both me and Richard about the philosopher's pleasure and its purity of pain. Francisco put his finger on the lines related to the necessitation and pain in the case of bodily pleasures. The pure pleasures of learning are a title to live up to. This was my tone and the music of stimulating dialogues followed. Der Ton macht die Musik, und das war ein Musik-Fest. And there were many more chats, of course, and much more music than that.</div>
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The city of Brasília is a bone of contention. I am so happy to marvel at and follow ideal constructions and experimentations when they are put on canvas. I am thinking of Kandinsky, for instance, but when it comes to cities...should they not be lived in and constructed so as to be lived in? Those tropical trees and birds outweighed everything that could cast a shadow. I had never heard such a joyful bird singing in my life so far. Or, is it rather that they only appear to be joyful, but they are not, in contrast to the swans of the <i>Phaedo</i>?</div>
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Roots in the Air (Brasília Palace Hotel). Angels in the Air (The Cathedral of Brasília. Of course one notices that it has been constructed by an atheist).</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Now I am in São Paulo, a Latin American city to be lived in, in comparison to Brasília. The meeting with this very interesting city has begun and is evolving. In some of its parts, it very strangely feels at home, and I mean at home in Athens. Shostakovich' strange <i>Lady Macbeth</i> unexpectedly added to our feeling of being at home and the opera building satisfied some of our quest for beauty, to be sure. So does working at the <i>Biblioteca Mário de Andrade</i> do. Agreements about dealing with the debate between reductionism and anti-reductionism, and the opening up of further paths, not yet considered nor imagined, fourth and fifth ones, contributes a special touch to beauty. The article on Malabou and Marcus has been elaborated on, and some things are being improved in the <i>Philebus</i> piece. I am ending the summer with the second piece on Marcus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP43H3iTH2HF2HlFjpm3GN_WIory1A1eYPK8oG_fYpOnWQSchcmFx9Zkfwt2Ty9_gGRRsCrFKHf-g2GLigp-5VHSzxQC6JvtM1Uq8nM5wmf8Vz37J-weqJ1CBHGnVacYIHsLGxvb4DyJvt/s1600/IMG_2543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP43H3iTH2HF2HlFjpm3GN_WIory1A1eYPK8oG_fYpOnWQSchcmFx9Zkfwt2Ty9_gGRRsCrFKHf-g2GLigp-5VHSzxQC6JvtM1Uq8nM5wmf8Vz37J-weqJ1CBHGnVacYIHsLGxvb4DyJvt/s320/IMG_2543.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The Opera of São Paulo behind some palm trees that intend to grow out of their species</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">That said: this is a new world to me. <o:p></o:p></span>New World, inhabited by a new language and new rhythms. How can one prepare herself to encounter a new world?</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Am I Greek enough? Are we Greek enough? Can we be Greek enough?</span></div>
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And how can one share beauty? Does one chop the animal in its natural joints? And if so, where is the divine knife to lead the way?</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In the meantime - for, who can foresee what the will and whims of divine knives will be! - here are some verses by Odysseas Elutis (from his poem Ο Ήλιος ο Ηλιάτορας, 1971), verses I read here for the first time, just before the celebration of the Prophet Elias, July 20. The sun is talking as follows in this poetic theatre play:</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Μέσα μου ρίχνει ο χρόνος ασταμάτητα<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">του κόσμου όλα τα βρόμικα και τ' άπλυτα<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Κι όσον καιρό κρεμιέμαι πάνω απ' τα νερά<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">κι όσον περνώ στα μακρινά τα Τάρταρα<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Τυραγνίες ζηλοφθονίες φόνους παιδεμούς<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">τ' αλέθω για τους χρόνους τους μελλούμενους<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Τ' αλέθω τα γυρίζω και τα πάω στη γη<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">που 'δωσε το σκοτάδι φως για να το πιει<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Κουράγιο περιστέρες και ανεμώνες μου<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Οι ωραίες κι οι συντροφιαστές κι οι μόνες μου<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Όπου μαυρίλα κλώθεται και γνέθεται<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ήλιοι μικροί γενείτε κι όλο αλέθετε<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Σ' ευλογημένη μέρα βγάζει το κακό<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">σε δημοσιά πλατιά το στενοσόκακο<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Κι είναι στη σκοτεινιά και στην ερήμωση<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">όπου ριζώνει κι ευωδιάζει η θύμηση</span></span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">PS: After a while, I realise that</span><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"> </span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">I have to put aside Greek poetry and think of</span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> new d</span></span></span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">evices in order to face this new and unfamiliar world. Even</span></span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> the moon is so... wrong! It smiles in <span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">São</span> Paulo. I had never experienced a smiling moon so far! What's wrong with everything: the light, the moon, the rhythms? Suchlike question marks are spontaneously arising. And the moon's smile, in reply, ever deepens. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">Not in the language, how can one participate and share in this world? And if s</span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">o, how is one to deal with otherness, when currently not having time to learn the language? One dives. B</span></span></span><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">ut how? One entertains another attitude than that one usually has nurtured toward studying languages with all the required seriousness before making any steps. One dives with a skill that is on its way to be acquired. Deep breath and wide openness, and here we go, accompanied by lots of humour and playfulness. This is the right time and place to read Rashomon and to experience Russian opera and watch a fine Almodovar with Portuguese supertitles or subtitles, in the breaks. Therefore, beyond work, at which I feel so at home anywhere and as ever, I provoke encounters with utmost otherness and extreme alienation. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">like with the Degas one stumbles upon in the MASP. I had never loved a Degas so deeply. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A Degas, or, is it <i>not </i>a Degas?</span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-39699883308142569032016-06-18T13:45:00.001+02:002017-04-18T17:06:49.761+02:00Homeland 2016Why did it feel so at home to be in Greece this time, as if for the first time in the fullest sense?<br />
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Was it because of a wonderful and wondrous Aristotle Congress in Thessaloniki? Was it because of our so smoothly passing through time and through so many appropriations of cultures in the blessed city? Was it because it seemed that our past became, all of a sudden, it seemed, part of these beautiful and holy byzantine churches, as it had ever been? A capital, perhaps the one we pointed to in St. Dimitrios' Church: stemming from ancient temples and smelling sacrifices of fled guests, dressed in thyme and fear? So at the right place and, at the same time, out of place, like a good metaphor that carries and smells its origin, while well-integrated in the new context?<br />
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The Rotonda (or Church of St. George) in Thessaloniki, in which we had the honor and joy to attend a concert. Among the music chosen was one part of Theodorakis on Elytis' <i>Axion Esti</i>, and Theodorakis, again, on Sepheris' <i>I held My Life</i>. And the breaths were held captives. And the bodies were filled with Aegean Sea, on which the eyes surfaced, like dreaming stars, landing on the shores of Greek islands.<br />
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Was it because we were singing Elytis' <i>Axion Esti</i> every morning and evening over the Aegean Sea, and held our lives together with Sepheris' poem at noon in order to mix some moderation in our wine, and protect ourselves from the ruthlessly burning Greek sun, while shuddering and shivering? Was it Sepheris's lines, or Theodorakis' music that made us shudder and shiver, and what about that stuttering? Was it the love for myths that held our tongues back, and held us back on following logic? While a cloud crossed our skies, and a question mark overcast our minds: whose Greek do we love more: Sepheris' or Marcus Aurelius', both of which share the same language of Greek and the same content of holding one's entire life in one's hands? Oh why can one, especially if an only child, not choose, but want both, and all beauty?<br />
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Was it because we rolled down in this language, and felt to the bone how one it has always been, a common vessel for Aristotle, Simplicius, Palamas, Papadiamantis, Elytis and Gatsos, and we could not stop marvelling, nor forgetting to breath out because of marvel? Was it because we could not but share our tears for this common language and for the weight of this homeland in our chests, our chests that could not cease opening up? We did not dare to accommodate the question: for what?<br />
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<i>Παναγία η Καρδιώτισσα</i>, painted by Angelos Akotantos (15th century, Byzantine Museum, Athens; if I had to choose only one icon from the entire collection, this would be it: just a small footnote that Andrei Roublev's <i>Ascension</i> <i>of Christ, </i>temporarily in the exhibition, is out of competition; the same goes for the early El Greco in the neighbourhood...)<br />
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PS: How can such a diving into the Greek language not prepare you for...the world?<br />
At night, one is covered by the blue itself (well, what else but Bellini's blue? I am sure, Plato would have agreed, had he known, yes: known, this blue).<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bellini's </span><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Virgin with the Standing Child, Embracing his Mot</span></i></span><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.84615421295166px;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">her</span></i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">(São Paulo Museum of Art)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Another of Bellini's Madonna and another shade of Bellini's blue in Glasgow (Kelvingrove Art Gallery)</span></div>
Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-8449219823135758172016-04-28T04:01:00.000+02:002016-05-12T16:32:31.021+02:00...And Some Foreground<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am finishing my piece on Plato In Search of a Language without Particulars in the <i>Timaeus</i>, and anticipating, be it somewhere in the back of my mind in this very moment, the Western Coast Workshop in Flagstaff AZ, this time dedicated to Plato's <i>Philebus</i>, and perhaps some wandering in Grand Canyon afterwards.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the meantime, it is budding Easter this Week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">PS: We had the honour and pleasure to host an artist and a philosopher today at UWO, Angela Melitopoulos and Maurizio Lazzarato, who collaborated and produced "Assemblages: </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: italic;">Félix Guattari and Machinic Animism</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">". Very interesting in both form and content, and a wonderful homage to the work of the French philosopher and psychoanalyst. I have great respect and sympathy for his critique of psychoanalysis (he was himself student of Lacan; consider his work </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">Anti-Oedipus </i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">with Deleuze) but when it comes to experimenting with real people suffering from schizophrenia, who were left without medication for the sake of theoretical enhancements, I reach my limits. This is outrageous and a completely "white" experiment.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">PPS: Turning the page to someone who deserves, as I see it, the title of a philosopher (for, it is a title), even if an artist: I co-organised a Tarkovsky screening with a student of mine. We watched </span></span><span style="font-family: "\22 times\22 " , "\22 times new roman\22 " , serif;">the</span><i style="font-family: '"times"', '"times new roman"', serif;"> Mirror </i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">and chatted about </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">Sculpting In Time, </i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">and in particular the time of </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">remembering. There are a few people interested in culture in this part of the world I am in. One just needs to search for and find them. Finally some oxygen and feeling "at home" in London ON. I am European, after all, which I detected, interestingly, only after coming to North America.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Grand Canyon. One glimpse.</span></div>
Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0Toronto, ON, Canada43.653226 -79.38318429999998243.285985499999995 -80.028631299999986 44.0204665 -78.737737299999978tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-1202495723678879532016-04-11T02:37:00.003+02:002016-04-25T15:56:15.879+02:00Terrence Malick 2016: From "To the Wonder" to the Wonder Itself, or, "The Knight of Cups"Culture is indeed coming to this North American town: the new Terrence Malick is out and will be soon screened in London ON. Very patiently looking forward to it. I might go every evening I can and call it an <i>Ontario festival of culture</i>.<br />
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PS: The director refuses to give interviews. What is available to us is the work, as it should be. How nice it would be to chat with him not about his films, if he does not wish, but about Ryle and Wittgenstein and Heidegger. No pens or notes, nor recording devices but attentive perception.</div>
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(<u><b>After the film, the first viewing</b></u>: </div>
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How can one write about the possibility of a new beginning in philosophy? How many philosophers have attempted to do so and what does it mean that someone succeeds in doing so? </div>
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How can someone film a new beginning in one's life, a transition from one world to another? How should one narrate the time that has passed, and from which perspective, the one before or the one after the transition? By letting the time evolve as it did before the new beginning; and by reconstructing the chain, and the fated sequence of events as necessitating what followed? No. Malick narrates an entire dream sequence. We do not know from which perspective the dreamer narrates. And we will not find out at the end of the film which the new world is. What we have access to is the dreamer's praying and inner dialogue with God throughout his past life, the life before the new beginning. Admittedly this is too much for the elevated taste of many of us, some friends of mine are in haste to point out to me. No comment on this. Plato and Nietzsche are cited, and the new beginning evolves freely and not as necessitated. We will watch again and again this film and wait patiently for anything Malick wishes to offer us as a present, at any time he chooses to be the right time, holding our breath, when watching, so as to listen to the words and whispers. Of course, there will always be the ones who will complain that the actor was wearing Armani at the seashore, or that Malick is preaching...I really do not care. No need for chats, just works and gems.</div>
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Fragments, pieces of the film, <b><u>after the second viewing</u></b>: </div>
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"Dear friend, I wonder where I was at that time."</div>
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"Dreams are nice, but you can't live them."</div>
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"So much I was given, so much I have behind."</div>
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"You can start over."</div>
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"Where will I meet you?"</div>
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"I loved my brother then."</div>
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"I died a different way."</div>
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I turned you upside down, my son."</div>
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"Fragments, pieces of a man.")</div>
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No PS: On another note, my debating class blew me away this term. I hear that the level of the students deteriorates, a judgment which I was not able to make compatible with what I experienced in this class. Was I extremely lucky then? There was not just a couple but really a good number of critically thinking young people, mostly very young people, very interesting and very interested at the same time. I was surprised to see how we could build on their philosophical debates, in contrast to political debates. After the first classes, a student of economics came to me, frustrated by what we were doing, especially after reading the confusing <i>Lysis</i>. And then he started explaining what we were doing, and I told him this is exactly the case and what should keep on being the case. More students of economics came to the office hours. They were the most perplexed, and also, interestingly, the most intrigued by our questioning our principles, utilitarianism, among others. </div>
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As I was pondering, before the beginning of the course, which I should choose among our philosophical texts in order to formulate our debates, and was considering Marcuse's <i>One-dimensional Man</i>, I decided not to include it in the material, because this would bring us too far on the path of critical thinking. So I thought.</div>
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What happens in the last session as we were trying to ask the right questions with regard to the similarities between the film Matrix I and our situation (we had started the course by trying to ask the relevant questions about Plato's Cave)?! A lady raises her hand and formulates Marcuse's critique of mass culture, which I had been thinking to draw upon for our course!! We must become able to learn from this youth. When we raise high expectations, it shows us that they were not high enough.</div>
<span id="goog_2103850848"></span><span id="goog_2103850849"></span><br />Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4660575579820774463.post-57133860696375415932016-04-07T03:08:00.000+02:002016-04-11T00:38:10.309+02:00One ArtEnd of the academic year, as far as teaching is concerned. As the end of the term was approaching and after a couple of excellent conferences and while one gets ready to keep on writing, I was looking for some fresh air, some good culture, in this "desert of reality". The problem is that I do not have that much time to devote to reading literature, and, on top of it, I had not undertaken something cultural for a while. A good friend was reading passages from Βιζυηνός' <i>Το τελευταῖον τῆς ζωῆς μου ταξίδιον</i> to me, and I was listening this marvellous story with curiosity, a familiar guest in the language I was brought up to consider as my own. But his lines were not music to my ears: such a burden, such an attempt to elaborate on the language, wear it earrings and necklaces, many more than what I could bear. And then...I encountered, in a kind of serendipity, some verses written by Elizabeth Bishop. This was the music I was looking for without knowing it: an utter simplicity, which has given up on adornments, of all kinds. Music to my ears, oxygen for my soul and the break I enjoyed, without leaving London ON...One can celebrate the unpretentious work on the language:<br />
<br />
<pre style="font-family: 'Poets Electra Web', 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16.923076629638672px; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 1.26316em; margin-top: 1.26316em; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;">The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (<i>Write</i> it!) like disaster.</pre>
Georgia Mouroutsouhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07981614448506562601noreply@blogger.com0