today commemorates the martyrdom of hypatia who is also known as the "divine pagan." she was born in the year 370c.e. and presided over a neoplatonic school in alexandria. she was hailed as a genius mathematician and a renowned philosopher. while there are conflicting reports on her life, she is regarded by many historians as being the first famous witch. she was said to practice magic and was a worshipper of nature. though many christians revered her intelligence, she was ultimately murdered by monks, though it is uncertain as to how or why. her death heralded a period in history riddled with the destruction of sacred pagan temples and the doom of polytheistic celebration and fellowship. the oracular wisdom contained in many early texts was later destroyed or rewritten by christian scribes during this tumultuous time.
there is some speculative history written on hypatia in the amazing online
wikipedia which calls itself the first "free-content" encyclopedia. it contains an enormous amount of arcane and lively information for the seeker.
a headache lasting nearly two days and i'm still fuzzy.
lucas sent me the lyrics of a
julia fordham song that i nearly overlooked on her most recent album "concrete love." ("you're the driver on the ghost train/that's pulling me around/you are the traffic/you are everywhere/it's another you day.") now i can't stop listening to "it's another you day!" classic julia fordham! i've always adored her and there is at least one song from every album she's put out over the past decade or so, that truly marks some moment, some magical memory in my life. when i lived in paris in 1993 for example, the only julia cd i ever listened to was her brilliant debut. so now, if i put on "where does the time go" or "behind closed doors" i'm instantly transported back to an autumn afternoon on a quay overlooking the seine near the "samaratine" department store. i can sense the breeze in the air, the color of the shirt i wore (a kind of crinkled salmon crepe--collarless), the slight burn of the october sun on my forehead. i can remember all the hopes i carried around with me back then, all the naive dreams i had for living in my most beloved city (the musty studio, the accordian player on the corner, the salon down the street). of course, things didn't turn out the way i had planned, but i managed to fall in love a lot, write notebooks of poetry and occasionally have the best cheese tarte in all of france. then, when i rode the metro or sat in the luxembourg gardens in late spring, i would listen to julia on tinny walkman headphones (pre-ipod), and feel like i was home.
the tremor of wings
fluttering in translation
whisper of dead trees
twilight in the cage
brings elogated shadows
pulse of open sky
voices become clouds
the only sanctuary
a drape of flowers
three haiku by gerard wozek/copyright 2003
from the videopoem "when verdi sings" (2003)
