Feast of St. Francis of Assisi
This morning, I was reminded, in the most wonderful way, that today is the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi. A friend who is a priest blessed the Qatteri Cat. It is a tradition on the Feast of St. Francis in some churches to have a blessing of the animals. It delighted my heart to have the Qatteri Cat blessed today!
St. Francis of Assisi was a controversial person. As a young man, upon hearing the voice of God, he sold off a bolt of silk from his father’s family warehouse to repair a church that had fallen into disrepair. His father was very angry and disowned him publicly. When he did, Francis took off all his clothes, left them for his father and walked away naked, or so the legend goes. He considered himself “wed to Lady Poverty” and preached simplicity in life and worship. This was not always popular with the Catholic Church.
This is called “The Prayer of St. Francis:”
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
You can read more on the official church legend of St. Francis here, although it does not go into detail about the simple way he lived his life, preached poverty, and loved all animals.
Reading through the above, I learned something. Here is an excerpt:
In 1219, Francis went to the Holy Land to preach to the moslems. He was given a pass through the enemy lines, and spoke to the Sultan, Melek-al-Kamil. Francis proclaimed the Gospel to the Sultan, who replied that he had his own beliefs, and that moslems were as firmly convinced of the truth of Islam as Francis was of the truth of Christianity. Francis proposed that a fire be built, and that he and a moslem volunteer would walk side by side into the fire to show whose faith was stronger. The Sultan said he was not sure that a moslem volunteer could be found. Francis then offered to walk into the fire alone. The Sultan who was deeply impressed but remained unconverted. Francis proposed an armistice between the two warring sides, and drew up terms for one; the Sultan agreed, but, to Francis’s deep disappointment, the Christian leaders would not. Francis returned to Italy, but a permanent result was that the Franciscans were given custody of the Christian shrines then in moslem hands.
The wonderful Giotto painting of St. Francis and the birds shown above I found at St. Francis Feeds the Birds. If you like art, you will love this link, which takes separate elements of the painting and helps you see what the artist may be saying. Even the way fingers are arranged has meanting.
On the Sunday in the United States when the priest blesses the animals, people bring dogs on leashes, cats in cages, bunnies, iguanas, even guinea pigs and parakeets. Every pet is welcome. It’s one of the sweetest Sundays of the year.
Iznik Tiles, God whispers . . .
OK, OK, now you are going to see my ditzy side. I remember my mother visiting, and I was telling her what my cat was saying. She gave me one of those long, considering looks, and then said “I hope you don’t talk this way in front of other people. They might think you are a little crazy.”
I guess we all have crazy thoughts, fantasies. I kind of think cats have a very simple kind of telepathy; they can, I think, pull images out of your head. They are simple creatures, but ones we don’t fully understand. Am I crazy for thinking that?
And that has nothing at all with this blog entry, except to warn you that sometimes I am not entirely rational, I can be fanciful.
Two books in a row I have most recently read referred to Iznik tiles. The first was a Donna Leon book Death in a Strange Country where a woman who lives very frugally, even on the edge of poverty, sits in her run-down Venetian apartment surrounded by masterpieces of world art, including Iznik tiles.
The second book, which I just finished, is The Janissary Tree by Jason Godwin, in which his detective Yashim Togalu, a eunuch in the early post-Janissary Ottoman Empire, notes the Iznik tiles in the great receiving room of the Sultan.
To me, when two books in a row refer to the same tiles I have never heard of, it is like a little whisper from God saying “look this up.” It may be that I don’t even need this information, maybe I am just supposed to pass it along to YOU! I don’t know.
I DO know I am glad I looked it up. I love blue and white. I love intricate, curved design. And oh WOW, I love Iznik tiles and pottery.
“In the late 16th century the tiles of Iznik incorporated new designs and new colors and Iznik immerged as the preeminent city for tile production in the Ottoman empire. A major part of the transformation had to do with the introduction of Persian designs rendered in a distinctly Ottoman style.” From Guide to Iznik Tile and Plates.
In case you want to know more, this is an excerpt from Nurhan Atasoy’s Article on Iznik Tiles:
The finest Iznik pottery was produced during the reign of Suleyman the Magnificent and up to the end of the 17th century.The tiles and other pieces were exuberantly decorated with hyacinths, tulips, carnations, roses, and stylised floral scrollwork known as hatayi, Chinese clouds, imbrication, cintemani (a design consisting of three spots and pairs of flickering stripes), and geometric patterns.
The Turkish Ministry of Culture proclaimed 1989 as Iznik Year, and numerous events and activities relating to Iznik pottery were held. Iznik has a special place in the history of Turkish art, and thanks to the efforts of Turkish Airlines and Turk Ekonomi Bankasi Iznik Year became Iznik Years. Researchers are continually discovering more about e beautiful type of ceramics, whose designs are enjoying a new wave of popularity.
And here is a source from which you can order your own Iznik tiles: Yurdan.com.
There is no socially redeeming value to this post. Only that I learned something, and discovered something which is, to me, breathtakingly beautiful. One source says Iznik tiles were made of quartz, which gave them a great elasticity when exposed to varying degrees of heat and cold, which I find fascinating in that today the hottest new countertops are done in quartz. I think Adventure Man and I need to visit Iznik, the ancient Nicea, and take a look, don’t you think? I would love to see more of these tiles, in person, maybe somewhere I could touch them. 🙂
Moon over Kuwait Towers
Celebrating 100,000 hits:
(Truly, just a lucky shot, with AdventureMan’s help)
Thank you, friends and visitors, for your visitsm your comments and your insights. Thank you for being a part of my virtual family.
QC Helps with the Cleaning
I am working back in the project room, which is also the guest room, trying to get it all cleaned out for guests arriving soon. It is a major task. When I am working, things can get pretty chaotic. The room gets vacuumed and dusted regularly, but, in truth, it isn’t easy to dust when all the sufaces are covered with items I might use.
And when cleaning up, things really need to be put back in the right place (or I will never see them again!) and sorted so I know what I have to work with.
Thank God I have the Qatteri Cat to help me out:
Donna Leon: Wilful Behavior
You think Donna Leon is writing about one thing, and then you discover it is about something else entirely. It seems to happen often in that line of work – you see the same thing on Law and Order, and Cold Case, and The Wire – what initially seems like a straightforward crime had depths and switch-backs unfathomable from the initial crime scene.
In Wilful Behavior, Paula, Brunetti’s wife, has just about had it with her university level students. They have no yearning for knowledge and insight, they are rife with materialism, she is feeling burned out and cynical. One student, who bucks the trend, comes to talk with her, and then Brunetti about the possibility of a post-mortem clearing of a person’s name, but she won’t give the name of the person or the crime that person committed. Before Commissario Brunetti has begun to plumb these depths – the student is murdered.
It’s always depressing when a young person dies. You can’t help but think of how treasured they were, how full of potential, and all that is gone now, wasted. A light in the world has gone out, and you grieve for how brightly that light might have shown. Brunetti and his wife only knew the murdered girl briefly, but her murder strikes them deeply.
Here is an excerpt from Brunetti’s discussion with the student before she was killed:
“I didn’t know young people even knew who Il Duce was.” Brunetti said, exaggerating, but not by much, and mindful of the almost total amnesia he had discovered in the minds of anyone, of whatever age, with whom he had attempted to discuss the war or its causes. Or worse, the sort of cock-eyed, retouched history that protrayed the friendly, generously disposed Italians led astray by their wicked Teutonic neighbors to the north.
The girl’s voice drew him back from these reflections. “Most of them don’t. This is old people I’m talking about. You’d think they’d know or remember what things were like then, what he was like.” She shook her head in another sign of exasperation. “But no, all I hear is that nonsense about the trains being on time and no trouble from the Mafia and how happy the Ethiopians were to see our brave soldiers.” She paused as if assessing just how far to go with this conservatively dressed man with the kind eyes; whatever she saw seemed to reassure her, for she continued. “Our brave soldiers come with their poison gas and machine guns to show them the wonders of Fascism.”
So young and yet so cynical, he thought, and how tired she must be already of having people point this out to her. “I’m surprised you aren’t enrolled in the history faculty,” he said.
“Oh, I was, for a year. But I couldn’t stand it, all the lies and dishonest books and the refusal to take a stand about anything that’s happened in the last hundred years.”
“And so?”
“I changed to English Literature. The worst they can do is make us listen to all their idiotic theories about the meaning of literature or whether the text exists or not.” Hearing her, Brunetti had the strange sensation of listening to Paula in one of her wilder moments. “But they can’t change the texts themselves. It’s not like what the people in power do when they remove embarassing documents from the State Archives. They can’t do that to Dante or Manzoni, can they?” she asked speculatively, a question that really asked for an answer.
“No,” Brunetti agreed. “But is suspect that’s only because there are standard editions of the basic texts. Otherwise, I’m sure they’d try, if they thought they could get away with it.” He saw that he had her interest, so he added, “I’ve always been afraid of people in possession of what they believe is the truth. They’ll do anything to see that the facts are changed and whipped into shape to agree with it.”
And, as it turns out, in the persistent corruption of Venetian bureaucracy, that is exactly what this murder is all about – the theft and possession of art during WWII, and how the ramifications are still trickling down today. How people are willing to kill to keep the past safely in the past, and to hang on to their treasured and priceless possessions.
Donna Leon continues to be one of my favorites because she is never formulaic – she has ISSUES, and she uses her Brunetti novels to educate her readers. As we become educated, we continue to experience Venice through all the senses, the smell of the veal cooking for dinner, the taste of the tiny espressos in the corner cafe meeting places, the gruesome murder sites, the sound of the waves in the canals, whipped up by the prevailing winds . . .you read Donna Leon, you become Venetian.
Kuwait Blue Sky
Friday, for the first time, the really blue sky was back! There must have been a subtle shift in the wind, as all we have seen all summer has been haze, and at best, a slight lightening of the haze.
My public art for this week:
A Salmiyya power station
A giant sized rosewater bottle on 303 (Look at the sky!)
Last, but not least, I spotted another of those Palm Tree Antennas in front of the old Regency Palace Hotel. I can’t remember seeing it before, so maybe it is new. Where have YOU seen other Palm Tree Antennas?
Ramadan Date Night
It’s the first night of Ramadan, and it is also Thursday, which is date night for Adventure Man and me. We hustle around all week, involved in our lives, grabbing ten minutes here and a phone call there, sitting down to dinner and that’s about it. But Thursday nights, we have the sweet luxury of time together. We go out to dinner somewhere, and we talk on the way there, we talk all through dinner and we talk on the way home. We both love date night.
Date night on the first night of Ramadan is REALLY special. Here is why:
“What’s so special?” you are asking in puzzlement. “That’s just an empty parking lot.?”
“EXACTLY!” I exclaim, triumphantly. “At seven in the evening, there are PARKING SPACES!” In a mall built for thousands of people that has only forty parking spaces! And we get Rock Star Parking!”
And unlike countries where they start putting up Christmas decorations in October, the Ramadan decorations began going up seriously yesterday, the beginning of Ramadan. They are still finishing up tonight.
I love the crescent moon and stars twirling down from these –
And look at these GORGEOUS lanterns!
There is no one around to object to my photo-taking. All the Westerners are eating or shopping while the mall population is so light.
Traffic is so light that we even stop for gas on the way to dinner, and drive right up to a pump with no wait at all. All the good Muslims are at home, or with friends, breaking the fast together, celebrating their triumph over the first day of fasting.
If you lived in Kuwait, you would know what a triumph it is. The weather is cooling, but still very hot – around 111°F/44°C every day this week. It is dry, and on some days there are sandstorms. Even when you are not fasting, you yearn for a cold drink of water.
The women often cook all day. They do the shopping. Many are around food most of the hours of their fast, so that they might provide a feast for their family when the sun sets, and they resist the temptation, just smile and say “It’s a test.” There is a custom that they can taste the food, to make sure it is OK, but they cannot swallow, or the fast is broken.
Corporate Dancing
Maria, at A Time to Dance writes a lyrical and insightful comparison of Salsa dancing and the subtleties of corporate leadership – and followership. In a very original and poignant article, Maria juxtaposes her subjects with deft elegance.
Ramadan Supplies
Oh! It’s a perfect day to be out shopping. Stores are putting out all the special Ramadan things – and now is the time you can find all the things that have been missing all summer. It’s a lush, wealthy time, anticipating the joys of the coming month of Ramadan.
And look what I found! Straight from the Street of Lanterns?
No! Made in China!
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