First Flight

Last castle tour before an autumn vacation, morning commute. Crossing the Lech, I let the bike coast to admire the chalky green-blue river. In the calm, cool air this morning, the surface rippled like stained glass. Reflected light revealed river banks, garbed in autumn leaves, veiled in mist, and leading to Füssen’s first houses coming into town. The peak of Breitenberg pointed above. The high castle showed bright in morning sun, St. Stephen’s monastery in shadow.

Then came the swans. In April, the nesting pair caught my eye. One rested on the nest of gathered grass amid reedy clumps. The other fed along the shore. In May the cygnet hatched. It was gray-brown, a color like Lech mud. On the way between tours, morning and evening, I watched it grow through the summer. First I’d spot the adults, their white shinning in the waterscape. Only then could I discern the grayling, always nearby, mixed into the color of bank brush. By August, white pointed the gray. Today, its neck was bleached to the waterline. Light plumes streaked the folded wings. The family paddled downstream, the adults before and behind the cygnet.

I braked the bike and dismounted, fumbling for the camera in my pack. A couple shots taken, I paused to breathe the river air. Listened to distant chirps, morning birds. Then, beckoned by the day’s tour, I stowed the camera and remounted.

Foot on pedal, a splash drew my attention riverward. The cygnet footed across the surface, neck outstretched, wings flapping. Leaving the water, it slipped into air. A few quick beats of wings, dappled gray and white, brought it into a silent glide above stained glass reflecting a pure white breast. It tilted into a gentle arc. Slid again into water.

It was over in a moment. A moment without thought. A moment of being. A moment passed in simple witness to nature. A moment of grace.

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Read more about the article Time in the Cold and Rain
Neuschwanstein Castle on a Cold Rainy Day in Mid-September.

Time in the Cold and Rain

Forty degrees and drizzling rain, mid-September, Hohenschwangau—Guiding tours, the worst days are the cold and rainy days. But I’ve had worse best days at other jobs. The most rewarding part of the cold and rainy days is when I’m telling stories to a crowd of tour guests, up to thirty at a time. It’s the hundred-and-somethingth time I’ve told these stories, but I put all the emotion and enthusiasm into them as though I just wrote them this morning. I know them by heart, so I have time to enjoy the telling as much as those listening.

Rain patters on overhead leaves. Gusty wind rattles branches. From green hills beyond, mist rises into blue-gray clouds on a close horizon. An odor of damp, decayed wood wafts in the air. The audience is a diverse crowd of folks of all ages, from different countries, different cultures, from all around the world. They came to a small corner of Europe to see a castle built by a crazy guy who enjoyed going to the opera and building monuments to his idols and to his own imagination. They came to go inside the castle. They didn’t expect to be outside before going in, listening to all these stories about the man who built it and how he came to do so.

Still, here they are, huddled under umbrellas and bundled up in parkas and scarves, arms around each other for warmth—as surprised to be standing there, in the cold and rain, as I am that they stay. They stare holes through me while I talk, some with furrowed brow, some with creased smile. They nod when they recognize some historical fact. They ooh and aah at the intriguing parts. They laugh at the funny bits. After the story about a knight, I point to his statue on the castle’s peak, a silhouette against clouds. They say that was a great story. I tell them I can do better. After the story about a dragon, they say they see the dragon, there in the landscape, shrouded in mist, and they say that was the very best story. Rain runs along umbrella ribs, while time stands still. Time spent in communion with the past and with our fellow humans from way back then and from just now. Time in the cold and rain. Time not they nor I regret not getting back.

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Read more about the article Neuschwanstein Dungeons
Neuschwanstein Castle from Marienbrücke on a bright November day, 2020.

Neuschwanstein Dungeons

“…the participants can then be allowed to make their first descent into the dungeons beneath the ‘huge ruined pile, a vast castle built by generations of mad wizards and insane geniuses.’”—Gygax and Arneson, DUNGEONS & DRAGONS: Men & Magic

Some say Ludwig II was a genius. For others, the king was mad. The vast castle he built is yet far from ruined. Though when the time comes, the pile will be huge.

“And the dungeons beneath?” a friend asked after I posted yet another photo like the one above on social media. Since I left the Isle of Myth a year and a half ago, base town is across the river from Bavaria’s most famous castle. In reply I recited a local legend:

An old man lives outside the village in the castle’s shadow. He is blind and frail, so doesn’t often leave his hovel. But if you bring him a bottle of single malt and tell him stories of daring adventures of youth, he’ll tell you to go, on a winter’s day, to the bridge behind the castle. Bouncing planks take you high above a gorge. Cool mist rises from a laughing cascade below. It brings an odor of pine and earth. The sun at its zenith reaches deep between two central towers. There, dazzling rays reveal to the keen observer a cavernous portal of unknown depth, into which few have ventured and from which none have returned.

This article was originally published on DONJON LANDS, April 10, 2024.

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Paris: Bordel, Bazaar

In French, as in English, a “bordel” is a brothel. A “bazar” in French, or “bazaar” in English, is a chaotic marketplace. Both terms are also used in French as slang for a place in disarray, one more so than the other.

Walking in Paris on a bright spring day, I stopped on the curb next to an elderly lady. On the far end of the crosswalk, the little man glowed red. A motorcyclist approached the light. He rode slow in a diagonal across the street and onto the zebra-striped crosswalk, turning toward the lady and myself. We stepped apart as the motorcycle passed between us, onto the sidewalk.

The lady and I looked at each other across the now vacant space.

C’est interdit, vous savez,” she said to me. “That’s illegal, you know. Paris is a bordel.”

The little man turned green. As we stepped onto the crosswalk, she had a second thought. “No, a bordel is more organized. Paris c’est un bazar !

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Dare Admire Things in Advance

“The men who dare admire things in advance of the rest of the world are not common.”—Jean François Millet

From Alfred Sensier, Jean François Millet: Peasant and Painter, translated by Helena de Kay (London: Macmillan, 1881), 131, originally published as La Vie et l’Œvre de J.-F. Millet (Paris: A. Quentin, 1881).

Dare admire things in advance - JF Millet

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Epimenides’ Paradox

Cretans, as a people, are kind and proud and fierce. I said so to a friend after one of many sojourns to the Isle of Myth.

“All Cretans are liars,” he said.

I said, “That’s a lie.”

“Of course it is; a Cretan said it!”

Epimenides is a legendary figure. He lived in the seventh and sixth centuries BC. He was a poet, philosopher, ascetic, wise man, prophet, and—according to his own countrymen—a god.

Diodorus Siculus, first-century-BC historian of ancient Greece, called Epimenides a theologian and a trustworthy authority on Cretan affairs (Epimenides Fragment 20). In the second century AD, Christian philosopher Clement of Alexandria wrote in The Stromata that Greeks of his time counted Epimenides among the seven (or nine) men most admired for their wisdom.

In the third century, Diogenes Laërtius treats Epimenides in The Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers. Most of what we know about his life comes from this biography.

Of his youth, Diogenes tells the following legend, which I summarize: While tending sheep one summer day, Epimenides sought shelter from the sun in a cave, where he took a nap. He woke up fifty-seven years later, untouched by age. When folk heard the story, they took him for a favorite of the gods.

His parentage is disputed among ancient historians, but all agree that Epimenides was born and lived in Knossos. Unlike Cretans of the day, he let his hair grow long, and tattoos covered his skin. He ate rarely, in small quantities, and only food provided by nymphs. He purified cities, built shrines and temples, and was given to prophesying.

Though age caught up with him fifty-seven days after his waking, Epimenides lived on to write poetry as well as prose, which Diogenes describes:

He wrote a poem of five thousand verses on the Generation and Theogony of the Curetes and Corybantes, and another poem of six thousand five hundred verses on the building of the Argo and the expedition of Jason to Colchis.

He also wrote a treatise in prose on the Sacrifices in Crete, and the Cretan Constitution, and on Minos and Rhadamanthus, occupying four thousand lines. (Lives, 51)

None of these writings, however, survived the intervening millennia. We know of Epimenides through biographers and fragments of his work in later texts.

One such text is St. Paul’s Letter to Titus, then bishop of Crete. The epistler calls on Titus to reprimand those who rebel against the faith.

They must be silenced, because they are disrupting whole households by teaching things they ought not to teach—and that for the sake of dishonest gain. One of Crete’s own prophets has said it: “Cretans are always liars, evil brutes, lazy gluttons.” This saying is true. Therefore rebuke them sharply, so that they will be sound in the faith. (Titus 1:11-13)

Clement, again in The Stromata, identifies Epimenides as the Cretan prophet of Paul’s letter:

… Epimenides the Cretan, whom Paul knew as a Greek prophet, whom he mentions in the Epistle to Titus, where he speaks thus: “One of themselves, a prophet of their own, said, The Cretans are always liars…” (Stromata 1.14)

Some 300 years after Epimenides, Greek poet Callimachus writes: “The Cretans ever feign.” In his Hymn to Zeus, it is the tomb of the father of gods and men—which the Cretans say is in their country, therefore blasphemy—that prompts the denigrating remark.

The Cretans ever feign - Callimachus“The Cretans ever feign” from “The Hymn to Jupiter” translated by William Dodd in The Hymns of Callimachus (London: T. Waller and J. Ward, 1755).

Callimachus doesn’t mention Epimenides. We will see below, however, that the scenario is borrowed from the Knossian prophet—or at least the two writers share a common source.

Though Epimenides’ work is lost, Paul’s Letter to Titus was collected into a large volume, which is both respected for its veracity and widely circulated. And so, what has become known as Epimenides’ Paradox[1] comes down to our times.

In the early twentieth century, biblical scholar and manuscript hunter J. Rendel Harris found evidence linking Paul’s quote with the scenario given by Callimachus. The discovery was made in successive steps. Here, I make short the process, which Harris documents in three articles over five years in a theological journal.[2]

Ishodad of Merv was a theologian of the Nestorian Church, a branch of Eastern Christianity. In the ninth century, he wrote extensive commentary on the Old and New Testaments.

Among Ishodad’s commentary, Harris discovered a familiar refrain concerning Cretans: “Liars, evil beasts, idle bellies.” It is one of a four-line verse describing the same scenario given by Callimachus. And the verse is part of an excerpt summarizing the work of a fourth-century theologian, Theodore of Antioch, called “The Interpreter,” because Theodore’s works were considered heresy.

Furthermore, the excerpt gives the verse as dialog, part of a speech by Minos, mythical King of Crete.

In one article (The Expositor, Oct. 1912), Harris reproduces the text, of which the following is part:

The Cretans said about Zeus, as if it were true, that he was a prince, and was lacerated by a wild boar, and was buried; and behold! his grave is known amongst us; so Minos, the son of Zeus, made a panegyric [speech of elaborate praise] over his father, and in it he said:

The Cretans have fashioned a tomb for thee, O Holy and High!
Liars, evil beasts, idle bellies;
For thou diest not; for ever thou livest and standest;
For in thee we live and move and have our being.

So the blessed Paul took this sentence from Minos.

The final phrase, according to Harris, intends a work by Epimenides, possibly a short title for “Minos and Rhadamanthus,” mentioned by Diogenes.[3]

The tomb of Jove - Callimachus“They have built the tomb of Jove…, who bears no dying frame” from Dodd, who translates the Greek Zeus to the Roman Jupiter and Jove.

If we accept the character’s existence at all, Minos was a first generation Cretan. So, while we now better understand the context, the paradox remains.

Diogenes writes that Epimenides died at 299 years of age—“as the Cretans report.”

 


[1] The paradox is sometimes called the “Fallacy of Mentiens,” especially in turn-of-the-twentieth-century textbooks on Logic, e.g. Fowler (1883), Gibson (1914), Bartlett (1922). Diogenes, in another entry of Lives, gives a long list of works by Chrysippus, a philosopher who wrote 200 years after Epimenides. A few of Chrysippus’s titles, grouped together, refer to “the Mentiens Argument.” Among this group, another title is “Reply to those who hold that Propositions may be at once False and True.”

[2] I refer interested readers to Harris’s articles published in The Expositor available on the Biblical Studies website: “The Cretans Always Liars” (Oct. 1906):305-317, “A Further Note on the Cretans” (Apr. 1907):332-337, and “St. Paul and Epimenides” (Oct. 1912):348-353. For more about Harris’s quest for ancient texts, consider his biography by Alessandro Falcetta, The Daily Discoveries of a Bible Scholar and Manuscript Hunter: A Biography of James Rendel Harris (1852–1941).

[3] Ishodad’s excerpt comes from his commentary on Acts of the Apostles. In the text above, “this sentence” refers to the last line of Minos’s dialog, which St. Paul quotes in his speech to the Areopagus (Acts 17:28). For more about references to Epimenides in Titus and Acts, see Paul Davidson’s informative article, “Lying Cretans and Unknown Gods: Allusions to Epimenides in the New Testament,” on Is That in the Bible?

 


Twenty-first-century author Stephen Wendell is writing a novel set in mythological Crete.

 

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Cairos, Forgotten God of Favorable Opportunity

There is a moment, that instant when you must choose to do or not to do. Instinct makes you aware of its importance: Act now, and everything hereafter is different. Act not, and things remain the same.

In her History of Ancient Sculpture (1883), Lucy M. Mitchell describes a Greek deity, long out of fashion, represented in sculpture by Lysippos, who worked in fourth-century-BC Peloponnese:

“Cairos was to the people of Lysippos’ day … an actual god, believed to influence men at critical moments, when sudden decision was required, and leading them to the proper improvement of every fleeting opportunity” (511).

Choose.

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Soulstitch

Sunrise on Soulstich

As a child the word for me was imbued with mysterious and profound meaning. I understood that it was the longest day in summer and the shortest in winter, but I thought there must be something more to it. And I still do. So on this, the shortest day of the year, I wish you all Happy Soulstitch.

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Your Local Independent Bookstore: Online!

“Bookshop is an online bookstore with a mission to financially support local, independent bookstores.”—Bookshop.org

Exciting news for book lovers: You can buy books online and get them delivered to you in a couple days—just like buying on Amazon. But it isn’t Amazon—it’s your local brick-and-mortar independent bookstore.

“We believe that bookstores are essential to a healthy culture. They’re where authors can connect with readers, where we discover new writers, where children get hooked on the thrill of reading that can last a lifetime. They’re also anchors for our downtowns and communities.”—Bookshop.org

The Bookshop.org About page explains very well how it works in a dozen sentences, five of which I quote here. Below I summarize the essentials.

Shop online

You browse the Bookshop.org book catalog or find the book you want using the search bar. At check-out, you tell Bookshop.org which independent bookstore* gets credit for the sale.

*To avoid confusion, I use “Bookshop.org” to refer to the online store and the term “bookstore(s)” to refer to the brick-and-mortar shops we know and love.

“By design, we give away over 75% of our profit margin to stores, publications, authors and others who make up the thriving, inspirational culture around books!”—Bookshop.org

Independent bookstores

Bookshop.org distributes 10% of regular sales to independent bookstores every six months. Currently, the amount is over $7 million.

What’s more, an independent bookstore can become an affiliate, promoting and selling books online through Bookshop.org with affiliate links. In which case, the bookstore earns 30% of sales generated through its affiliation, which is the entire profit margin—Bookshop.org doesn’t make any money from these sales.

All the books

Bookshop.org gets its catalog from Ingram Content Group, a major US book distributor, which is used by most US publishers. So, you can find books from the “Big 5” publishers, like Simon & Schuster and Random House, to mid-size and small presses, and even from clever self-published authors, yours truly among them, who distribute their books through Ingram.

Print-on-demand and delivery

The bookstore doesn’t do anything more than promote the book. Bookshop.org provides the online interface, and when you place an order, Ingram prints the book and ships it to you.

International

In January 2020 Bookshop.org got started in the US.1,2 They plan to be fully operational in the UK by Christmas3, and they aim to offer similar support for independent bookstores worldwide4.

Centralized

Ingram does all the material work, and they get paid for it, as they should. Printing and shipping costs are included in the price of any printed book we buy anywhere.

Still, Ingram Content Group is a large organization and a subsidiary of an even larger company, Ingram Industries, which earned over $2 billion in 20145—compared to Amazon’s $280 billion (2019)6.

Future awesomeness?

Maybe I’m dreaming here, but wouldn’t it be awesome if our local independent print shops could print books on-demand? I’m guessing it comes down to economics. When the local demand for print-on-demand comes up to meet the cost of the print machine, such as an Espresso Book Machine, small print shops around the world might replace the centralized printer.

By providing the platform, Bookshop.org may be an important step to making the dream a reality. By buying books from our local independent bookstores online, we provide the demand. We make the future awesome.

Bookshop - Support Local Bookstores


1 This Startup Wants to Help Indie Booksellers Take on Amazon

2 The Coronavirus Pandemic Is Changing How People Buy Books

3 Bookshop Opens in the U.K.

4 Bookshop.org FAQ

5 Ingram Industries

6 Amazon

 

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Another Stretch of Road

Slanting afternoon light showed me a field of rocks. Erosion on the crystalline limestone that covers the peninsula makes formations of standing stones, legions of trolls caught in sunshine marching across the landscape. But these rocks looked different. Curious, I stopped the car to have a look.

Crystalline limestone, yes, but these were hewn into rough rectangular shapes, laid in a mosaic pattern, and bordered by straight rows of same. Nineteen hundred years of wind and winter rain set them in jagged profile. Two paces (about three meters) from edge row to edge row confirms another stretch, this one 150 meters long, of the Roman road on Rodopou.

Tell me when I’ve had enough. I love it out here!

150 meters of the Roman road on Rodopou

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