Antiques Inspiring Quotes

In ethics [Aristotle] had two bright ideas. First, that extreme behavior of selfishness and self-sacrifice don't work for most people; look for the golden mean. Second, good behavior is not a result of either sudden inspiration or harsh control. It is a habitual pattern, which means slow and steady conditioning: 'One swallow does not make a summer,' nor does one good deed make ethical behavior.

An antique saying has it that a man's life is incomplete unless or until he has tasted love, poverty, and war.

America for Me 'Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, To admire the crumblyh castles and the statues and kings But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things. So it's home again, and home again, America for me! My heart is turning home again and there I long to be, In the land of youth and freedom, beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars. Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air; And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair; And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome; But when it comes to living there is no place like home. I like the German fir-woods in green battalions drilled; I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing foutains filled; But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her sway! I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack! The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back. But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free-- We love our land for what she is and what she is to be. Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, To the blessed Land of Room Enough, beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.

The Greeks made Space the subject-matter of a science of supreme simplicity and certainty. Out of it grew, in the mind of classical antiquity, the idea of pure science. Geometry became one of the most powerful expressions of that sovereignty of the intellect that inspired the thought of those times. At a later epoch, when the intellectual despotism of the Church, which had been maintained through the Middle Ages, had crumbled, and a wave of scepticism threatened to sweep away all that had seemed most fixed, those who believed in Truth clung to Geometry as to a rock, and it was the highest ideal of every scientist to carry on his science 'more geometrico.

When I put on makeup, I'm not doing it to pander to antiquated patriarchal ideas of feminine beauty. I'm doing it because it makes me feel good.

The tedium vitae so constant in antiquity was due to the fact that the outstanding individual was what others could not be; the inspiration of modern times will be that any man who finds himself, religiously speaking, has only achieved what every one can achieve.

When we continuously snuggle up to antiquated ideas, we shut our eyes against the light of our potential.

Even if the majority believes something is right, it doesn’t make that thing right. In antiquity, people thought the Earth was flat while it was round.

You ask for happiness, Ms. Stuart. Certainly, that’s what everyone wants–Aristotle said happiness is the ultimate goal of all people, and that the desire for wealth and fame and power are all just paths to happiness. And yet…happiness…it’s a bit abstract, isn’t it? As the front door says, I deal in antiquities and tangibles. Which is not to say I can’t cope with more aspirational requests–if you asked for the aforementioned wealth or power, or for youth, or beauty, or inspiration, I have items that can grant all those wishes. But happiness… Can you be a bit more specific? Can you tell me what would make you happy?

The great impact of Hellenistic culture was, however, no in natural science, but in the more Plato-inspired imaginative literature. The modern novel has its origins in the ultra-heroic and fantastic literature of the Hellenistic world intellectually centered in Alexandria. The life of Alexander the Great was itself one of the prime genres of Hellenistic romanticized literature, and remained so into the sixteenth century.

All useless, according to the common sense of utility, yet all of them inspiring in me curiosity and the simplest delight. Delight in the fact that beautiful things made by people forty years ago sit around, bringing pleasure to a stranger in the now. It reminds me of my duty, everyone's duty, to the future. My friends kids will need in twenty years to find crap like this at the markets so that they can feel held by the hands of past people's future dreams and not feel totally alone.

Growing old is God’s privilege to you..... you only can be compared to any antique and old wine...antiques are expensive and old wines taste best........above all, it beats the alternative -- DYING YOUNG. So cheer up and be grateful that God is giving you that privilege.

You all remember,” said the Controller, in his strong deep voice, “you all remember, I suppose, that beautiful and inspired saying of Our Ford’s: History is bunk. History,” he repeated slowly, “is bunk.” He waved his hand; and it was as though, with an invisible feather wisk, he had brushed away a little dust, and the dust was Harappa, was Ur of the Chaldees; some spider-webs, and they were Thebes and Babylon and Cnossos and Mycenae. Whisk. Whisk-and where was Odysseus, where was Job, where were Jupiter and Gotama and Jesus? Whisk-and those specks of antique dirt called Athens and Rome, Jerusalem and the Middle Kingdom-all were gone. Whisk-the place where Italy had been was empty. Whisk, the cathedrals; whisk, whisk, King Lear and the Thoughts of Pascal. Whisk, Passion; whisk, Requiem; whisk, Symphony; whisk...

The Roman people too, in the end, grew tired of antique virtues, preferring the comforts of easy slavery and peace. Rather bread and circuses than endless internecine wars. As the Romans themselves recognized, their freedom had contained the seeds of its own ruin, a reflection sufficient to inspire much gloomy moralizing under the rule of a Nero or a Domitian.

Historical writing, which had begun to keep a continuous record of the present, now also cast a glance back to the past, gathered traditions and legends, interpreted the traces of antiquity that survived in customs and usages, and in this way created a history of the past. It was inevitable that this early history should have been an expression of present beliefs and wishes rather than a true picture of the past; for many things had been dropped from the nation's memory, while others were distorted, and some remains of the past were given a wrong interpretation in order to fit in with contemporary ideas. Moreover people's motive for writing history was not objective curiosity but a desire to influence their contemporaries, to encourage and inspire them, or to hold a mirror up before them. A man's conscious memory of the events of his maturity is in every way comparable to the first kind of historical writing [which was a chronicle of current events]; while the memories that he has of his childhood correspond, as far as their origins and reliability are concerned, to the history of a nation's earliest days, which was compiled later and for tendentious reasons.

THE LORD BUDDHA HAS SAID that we must not believe in a thing said merely because it is said; nor traditions because they have been handed down from antiquity; nor rumors, as such; nor writings by sages, because sages wrote them: nor fancies that we may suspect to have been inspired in us by a Deva (that is, in presumed spiritual inspiration); nor from inferences drawn from some haphazard assumption we may have made; nor because of what seems an analogical necessity; nor on the mere authority of our teachers or masters. But we are to believe when the writing, doctrine, or saying is corroborated by our own reason and consciousness. "For this," says he in concluding, "I taught you not to believe merely because you have heard, but when you believed of your consciousness, then to act accordingly and abundantly.

I met him last night, and as if hypnotized, I’d followed him into his private jet. Now I stood inside a European-inspired estate in Madison, Wisconsin. I had gone home with a stranger, and I didn’t even know his name. He had refused to tell me, saying it wasn’t important. Not yet. “You'll be safe here.” He picked up what looked like a remote control from an antique wood mantelpiece and pressed a button. More bright light flooded the room. Beyond the glass wall, I caught a furious sparkle. A lake.

With so much knowledge written down and disseminated and so many ardent workers and eager patrons conspiring to produce the new, it was inevitable that technique and style should gradually turn from successful trial and error to foolproof recipe. The close study of antique remains, especially in architecture, turned these sources of inspiration into models to copy. The result was frigidity—or at best cool elegance. It is a cultural generality that going back to the past is most fruitful at the beginning, when the Idea and not the technique is the point of interest. As knowledge grows more exact, originality grows less; perfection increases as inspiration decreases. In painting, this downward curve of artistic intensity is called by the sug- gestive name of Mannerism. It is applicable at more than one moment in the history of the arts. The Mannerist is not to be despised, even though his high competence is secondhand, learned from others instead of worked out for himself. His art need not lack individual character, and to some connoisseurs it gives the pleasure of virtuosity, the exercise of power on demand, but for the critic it poses an enigma: why should the pleasure be greater when the power is in the making rather than on tap? There may be no answer, but a useful corollary is that perfection is not a necessary characteristic of the greatest art.

The best antidote to the furtive poison of anger, fear, anxiety, or any of our destructive, unwieldy passions, is just gratitude. And not the grandiose, boisterous or especially obvious kind. It is not necessarily the verbose or expressive kind. It's often the full immersion, a kind of deep submersion even, into a pool of awareness. This penitent affect distills within us surreal realizations; it is a focus, tinged with layers of deep remorse and the profound beauty of newfound appreciation that washes over us about the simplest things we have slipped into, or suddenly become aware of our own complacency over. This cooling antidote instantly soothes any veins swollen with the heat of pride, or stopped up with pearls of finely polished self-pity. This all comes about with a balm of humility that is simultaneously soothing and jolting to all of our senses at the same time. It is a cocktail both sedative and stimulant in the same, finite instant. It often occurs as we are halted dead in our tracks by a thing so extraordinary and breathtakingly natural, even luscious in its simplicity and unusually ordinary existence; often something we have been blatantly negligent of noticing as we routinely trudge past it in our self-absorbed haze. These are akin to the emotions one might feel as they finally notice the well-established antique rose garden, in full bloom; the same one they have walked by for years on their way to somewhere - but never noticed before. This is the feeling we get when our aging parent suddenly, in one moment, is 87 in our mind's eye - and not the steady 57, or eternal 37 we have determinedly seen our so loved one to be, out of purely wishful thinking born of the denial that only the truest love and devotion can begin to nurture - for the better of many decades.

In fourth grade, I had a talk with the school psychologist about all the things that actively terrified me . . . After our session, he handed my mom a list of all my fears . . . Highest (and most memorable) on the list was the specific fear that I'd accidentally churn myself into butter. This was inspired by a creepy antique children's book called Little Black Sambo, which is one of those stories from the simpler, more racist times of yore when people wrote frightening, insulting tales to help children fall asleep at night. It was highly popular back in the day and has since been rightly banned or taken out of circulation. But my mom had a copy lying around. It's about a boy who goes on an adventure and ends up getting chased by tigers, who circle and circle around a tree so fast that they churn themselves into a pool of butter, which the boy then takes home for his mother to use to make pancakes. Like ya do. Anyway, I was always riddled with fear that I'd somehow be transformed into melted butter, which now doesn't really sound like that much of a bummer. It sounds more like how I'd like to spend my last twenty-four hours on this earth.

The conception of the universe as an intelligible order has inspired the whole development of Western science, alike in classical antiquity and in modern times; and in the formative period of modern science from Galileo to Newton the belief in God as first cause and creator of the order of nature, as well as the supreme governor and lawgiver of the moral world formed an essential part of the scientific 'Weltanschauung'.

The chain of events that began with the intense rivalry between the Roman Empire and Persia had extraordinary consequences. As the two great powers of late antiquity flexed their muscles and prepared for a final showdown, few could have predicted that it would be a faction from the far reaches of the Arabian peninsula that would rise up to supplant both. Those who had been inspired by Mu  ammad truly inherited the earth, establishing perhaps the greatest empire that the world has seen, one that would introduce irrigation techniques and new crops from the Tigris and Euphrates to the Iberian peninsula, and spark nothing less than an agrarian revolution spanning thousands of miles. 98 The Islamic conquests created a new world order, an economic giant, bolstered by self-confidence, broad-mindedness and a passionate zeal for progress. Immensely wealthy and with few natural political or even religious rivals, it was a place where order prevailed, where merchants could become rich, where intellectuals were respected and where disparate views could be discussed and debated. An unpromising start in a cave near Mecca had given birth to a cosmopolitan utopia of sorts.

This is the real Ripley, the lover of beauty, inspired by art, by antiquity. He’s awed. He’s cold. He so much wishes he weren’t alone.

You all remember," said the Controller, in his strong deep voice, "you all remember, I suppose, that beautiful and inspired saying of Our Ford's: History is bunk. History," he repeated slowly, "is bunk." He waved his hand; and it was as though, with an invisible feather wisk, he had brushed away a little dust, and the dust was Harappa, was Ur of the Chaldees; some spider-webs, and they were Thebes and Babylon and Cnossos and Mycenae. Whisk. Whisk-and where was Odysseus, where was Job, where were Jupiter and Gotama and Jesus? Whisk-and those specks of antique dirt called Athens and Rome, Jerusalem and the Middle Kingdom-all were gone. Whisk-the place where Italy had been was empty. Whisk, the cathedrals; whisk, whisk, King Lear and the Thoughts of Pascal. Whisk, Passion; whisk, Requiem; whisk, Symphony; whisk…

But the Scottish patron on tour took home with him from Italy much more than his cargo of paintings, sculptures and antique marbles, the tangible souvenirs of his excursion to the south. He took home as well a sophistication of taste and an appreciation of the virtues of classicism which only contact with the Mediterranean inheritance could impart. Only sixty years before the building of the pedimented façade of Duff House in Banff, with its urns and roof-line statuary more in keeping with a southern sky, the typical laird's house in Scotland was still inspired by an economy of display and a strength of fabric deriving from less settled times. The 18th century saw the transportation to Scotland of the idea of the Italian palace, and Hopetoun or Floors or Chatelherault owe their existence to this inspiration.

As they conversed with their new companions, the Englishmen learned that to walk across the land in southern New England was to travel in time. All along this narrow, hard-packed trail were circular foot-deep holes in the ground that had been dug where “any remarkable act” had occurred. It was each person’s responsibility to maintain the holes and to inform fellow travelers of what had once happened at that particular place so that “many things of great antiquity are fresh in memory.” Winslow and Hopkins began to see that they were traversing a mythic land, where a sense of community extended far into the distant past. “So that as a man travelleth…,” Winslow wrote, “his journey will be the less tedious, by reason of the many historical discourses [that] will be related unto him.” They also began to appreciate why these memory holes were more important than ever before to the Native inhabitants of the region. Everywhere they went, they were stunned by the emptiness and desolation of the place. “Thousands of men have lived there,” Winslow wrote, “which died in a great plague not long since: and pity it was and is to see, so many goodly fields, and so well seated, without men to dress and manure the same.” With so many dead, the Pokanokets’ connection to the past was hanging by a thread—a connection that the memory holes, and the stories they inspired, helped to maintain.

thought you had liberal views on what women should be allowed to do. It’s not as if I were suggesting joining one of your hideous hunts. I imagine that there aren’t wild animals behind every rock in Turkey waiting to charge at helpless humans.” “I wouldn’t object in principle to your going to Troy, but I will admit that I don’t view you as an adventurous type.” His eyes searched my own. “Beast! You don’t know me at all.” “Would you have the wardrobe?” He was laughing, and I realized he was teasing me. “Isn’t Ephesus in Turkey? Perhaps I could visit there on the same trip. I’ll send you a note from the Temple of Artemis, where I assure you I will not appear in evening clothes.” “I didn’t realize you had an interest in antiquity.” “Philip inspired me.” We had reached the rue de Rivoli and were nearly at the Meurice. “Let’s keep walking; I would like to see the river at night.” We turned away from the hotel and walked until we reached the Pont-Neuf. The air had grown chilly, and I had not worn even a light wrap; Colin stood near me to shield me from the wind blowing over the bridge. “Can you imagine how many people have crossed this bridge?” I asked. “It must be three hundred years old. Do you think that Marie Antoinette ever stood here and looked across the Seine at the city?” “Hardly. I think she would have had a greater appreciation for the views at Versailles.” “We consider this bridge old, but if it were in Athens, would anyone even comment on it? I shouldn’t be impressed with anything less than two thousand years old if I were in Greece.” “Then you would miss some particularly fine Roman ruins, my dear. Why don’t you plan a nice, civilized trip to Athens on your way to Santorini when you go?” “I shall have to see how it fits with my plan to visit Troy.” Colin shook his head and took my arm. I let him guide me back to the hotel, but not before contemplating at some length the pleasure I derived from his standing so close to me.   COLIN CALLED ON ME the next afternoon, and I confess I was delighted to see him. I planned to dine in my rooms that evening and invited him to join me. He readily accepted. “What time shall I return?” he asked. “I’ll only need to dress.” “Don’t be silly,” I replied. “We shan’t dress. I ordered a light supper and asked to have it early. It’s only the two of us, and

Do not be cursed by documented findings and so-called facts; invention itself is not yet an antique for the museum. Not every voice has the right to sponsor your beliefs and words.

Religious fundamentalists belong in a museum at the exhibit of medieval antiquities, not in any nation.

Velasquez après 50 ans, ne peignait plus jamais une chose définie. Il errait autour des objets, l’éclair et le crépuscule. Il surprenait dans l’ombre la transparence des fonds, les palpitations colorées dont il faisait le centre invisible de sa symphonie silencieuse. Il ne saisissait plus dans le monde que les échanges mystérieux qui font pénétrer les uns dans les autres, les formes et les tons par un progrès secret et continu dont aucun bruit, aucun sursaut ne dénonce ni n’interrompt la marche.

In short, the disabled have since antiquity been portrayed by others as pitiful, inspiring, mysterious, grotesque, or evil, but exceedingly rarely as ordinary human beings with an incidental physical or cognitive difference.

The Four Global Options Now that you grasp the BIG picture, which includes your life values, your career values, your T-Bar, and current market conditions, it’s time to consider the four global options. I call these global options because, in reality, these are the only four job or career options you have. Option #1: Same job–same industry. Choosing Option #1 means you enjoy both and, most likely, need only conduct a job transition campaign to seek out a new company or organization. For example, a fifth grade teacher who is teaching in a public school may seek the same job (teacher) in the same industry (public school system); this teacher only needs to look at a new school in the same school district or to apply for a teacher’s position in a new school district. Option #2: New job–same industry. Option #2 means you enjoy the industry but need to identify a new job within that industry. Using the fifth grade teacher as an example again, she might seek a new job as an assistant principal or librarian. Or maybe she wants to earn more money than she would make as a teacher, so she becomes a sales professional and sells textbooks to educational institutions. The job transition campaign will take place within education, but she will identify and pursue a new, more inspiring, and more rewarding job within that industry. Option #3: Same job–new industry. If you select Option #3, it means you enjoy your job or vocation, but you need to identify a new industry or environment to perform that job in. The fifth grade teacher might get a job teaching for a private school (new industry or venue) or a private learning center, or she might even start her own tutoring business. In this case, the job transition campaign will focus on teaching but in a new, more appealing industry or venue. Option #4: New job–new industry. This option means you are ready for a wholesale change. Oftentimes this option is the option of choice if there’s a career or job you’ve always dreamt about. Or possibly you have a nice severance package or the financial means to return to school and prepare for an entirely new career. Possibly the fifth grade teacher always had a passion for antiques. In this case, she might pursue a job as a manager or even an owner of an antique store. Perhaps she’ll make the decision to stay home and be a full-time mom. The job transition campaign will focus on an entirely new job or activity in an entirely new industry or venue.

I've always had a keen sense of history. My father was an antiques dealer and he used to bring home boxes full of treasures, and each item always had a tale attached.

Al-Kind¯ı’s work revived philosophy as living practice and introduced it in the new social environment of Abbasid Baghdad by making it relevant to its intellectual concerns and widely acceptable as the indispensable means for critical and rigorous thinking based on reason, not authority. The resurrection of philosophy in Arabic in the early ninth century was a revolutionary event, as mentioned above, because up to that point anybody doing philosophy creatively in multicultural post-classical antiquity – regardless of linguistic or ethnic background – did it in Greek, while all the other philosophical activities were derivative from, and dependent upon, the main philosophizing going on simultaneously in Greek. When Arabic philosophy emerged with al-Kind¯ı, however, the situation was completely different: it was from the very beginning independent, it chose its own paths, and it had no contemporary and living Greek philosophy either to imitate or seek inspiration from. Arabic philosophy engaged in the same enterprise Greek philosophy did before its gradual demise, but this time in its own language: Arabic philosophy internationalized Greek philosophy, and through its success it demonstrated to world culture that philosophy is a supranational enterprise. This, it seems, is what makes the transplantation and development of philosophy in other languages and cultures throughout the Middle Ages historically possible and intelligible. Arabic philosophy was also revolutionary in another way. Although Greek philosophy in its declining stages in late antiquity may be thought to have yielded to Christianity, and indeed in many ways imitated it, Arabic philosophy developed in a social context in which a dominant monotheistic religion was the ideology par excellence. Because of this, Arabic philosophy developed as a discipline not in opposition or subordination to religion, but independent from religion – indeed from all religions – and was considered intellectually superior to religion in its subject and method. Arabic philosophy developed, then, not as an ancilla theologiae but as a system of thought and a theoretical discipline that transcends all others and rationally explains all reality, including religion.

Cyclical Models The pattern of rise and fall: this is the general shape of history outlined by both Herodotus and Thucydides that is generically common to practically all the other cyclical models. The degenerative cycle of the four ages: this is the Gold–Silver–Bronze–Iron model of Hesiod, the Zoroastrians, and the Hindu Yuga cycles in which a state of initial perfection degenerates by ages to a final barbarism before the cycle starts again. The Anacyclosis: this is the political pattern of constitutional cycles outlined by Polybius which follows the sequence monarchy, kingship, tyranny, aristocracy, oligarchy, democracy, and ochlocracy before a period of barbarianism resets the cycle. The providential cycle (judgement–retribution–restoration): this follows the pattern of the Book of Jeremiah and the ‘alternative’ Christian tradition of the Venerable Bede and Geoffrey of Monmouth. The Phoenix cycle (birth–death–rebirth): this is Petrarch’s model which posits a Dark Age between two better periods and in which the New Age will look to Antiquity for inspiration.

You all remember,” said the Controller, in his strong deep voice, “you all remember, I suppose, that beautiful and inspired saying of Our Ford’s: History is bunk. History,” he repeated slowly, “is bunk.” He waved his hand; and it was as though, with an invisible feather wisk, he had brushed away a little dust, and the dust was Harappa, was Ur of the Chaldees; some spider-webs, and they were Thebes and Babylon and Cnossos and Mycenae. Whisk. Whisk—and where was Odysseus, where was Job, where were Jupiter and Gotama and Jesus? Whisk—and those specks of antique dirt called Athens and Rome, Jerusalem and the Middle Kingdom—all were gone. Whisk—the place where Italy had been was empty. Whisk, the cathedrals; whisk, whisk, King Lear and the Thoughts of Pascal. Whisk, Passion; whisk, Requiem; whisk, Symphony; whisk . .

What was the inspiration for all this? Snow White's forest?" "Close, kind of," I replied. "This one's actually FernGully." "You're kidding," he said. "Nope. She wanted her very own enchanted rain forest, and it looks like that's exactly what she got," I said. "She sure did," he replied. "I can't believe we're in Tennessee." The clear-top tent was anchored by fourteen-foot faux weeping willow trees. Candles in glass orbs hung from every branch. The elevated dance floor floated in the center of the space and could be described only as an enormous Lucite shadow box filled with thousands of faux flowers in a rainbow of colors. The bars were covered in green moss and adorned with hundreds of colorful butterflies. The clear ceiling was almost entirely covered in twinkling fairy lights that would look just like a sky full of stars once the sun set. But the real showstopper was the centerpiece on every dining table. Atop every amethyst silk tablecloth was an antique birdcage that housed two real-life lovebirds. The rosy-faced little birds were hopping around and singing, and the space looked, sounded, and felt exactly like an enchanted forest from the movie. I wasn't precisely sure how authentic they were to the rain forest setting, but their chirping certainly added to the wild vibe.

On the other hand, if you spent those thirty years, or three thousand years, primarily studying mental phenomena, you might draw a different conclusion. The simple point here is that multiple theories, or multiple moments of awareness, may best be validated when they are brought into conjunction with moments of awareness or perspectives that are radically different. Whether our perspective is Christianity, Buddhism, the philosophy of Greek antiquity, or modern neurobiology, the way forward may be to overcome the illusions of knowledge by engaging deeply, respectfully, and humbly with people who share radically different visions. I think there’s a common assumption from a secular perspective that the religions of the world cancel themselves out in terms of any truth claims: Christianity, Buddhism, Hinduism, and Taoism say many different things on many fronts, so when you shuffle them all together, they all collapse into nothing. In that view, the only moment of cognition that seems to be left standing is science, with nothing to bounce off of because religions have canceled each other out. It’s also often believed that the contemplative traditions feel they already know the answers. You set out on your contemplative path and are guided to the right answer. If you deviate from that, your teacher brings you back and says, “Not that way. We already know the right answer. Keep on meditating until you get to the right answer.” That is completely incompatible with the spirit of scientific inquiry, which seeks information currently thought to be unknown, and is therefore open to something fresh. As I put these various problems together in my mind, a solution seems to rise up, which is a strong return to empiricism and clarity. What don’t we know and what do we know? It’s very hard to find that out when we only engage with people who have similar mentalities to our own. As Father Thomas suggested, Christianity needs to return to a spirit of empiricism, to the contemplative experience, rather than resting with all the “right” answers from doctrine. The same goes for Buddhism. In this regard I’m deeply inspired by the words of William James: “Let empiricism once become associated with religion, as hitherto, through some strange misunderstanding, it has been associated with irreligion, and I believe that a new era of religion as well as philosophy will be ready to begin . . . I fully believe that such an empiricism is a more natural ally than dialectics ever were, or can be, of the religious life.”99 We may then find there are indeed profound convergences among multiple contemplative traditions operating out of very different initial frameworks: the Bible, the sutras, the Vedas, and so forth. When we go to the deepest experiential level, there may be universal contemplative truths that the Christians, the Buddhists, and the Taoists have each found in their laboratories. If there is some convergence, these may be some of the most important truths that human beings can ever access.

All in all, ethnic and religious and color prejudice existed in the ancient world. Constructions of races—White Europe, Black Africa, for instance—did not, and therefore racist ideas did not. But crucially, the foundations of race and racist ideas were laid. And so were the foundations for egalitarianism, antiracism, and antislavery laid in Greco-Roman antiquity. “The deity gave liberty to all men, and nature created no one a slave,” wrote Alkidamas, Aristotle’s rival in Athens. When Herodotus, the foremost historian of ancient Greece, traveled up the Nile River, he found the Nubians “the most handsome of peoples.” Lactantius, an adviser to Constantine I, the first Christian Roman emperor, announced early in the fourth century: “God who creates and inspires men wished them all to be fair, that is, equal.” St. Augustine, an African church father in the fourth and fifth centuries, maintained that “whoever is born anywhere as a human being, that is, as a rational mortal creature, however strange he may appear to our senses in bodily form or colour or motion or utterance, or in any faculty, part or quality of his nature whatsoever, let no true believer have any doubt that such an individual is descended from the one man who was first created.” However, these antislavery and egalitarian champions did not accompany Aristotle and St. Paul into the modern era, into the new Harvard curriculum, or into the New England mind seeking to justify slavery and the racial hierarchy it produced.

THROAT CHAKRA—VISHUDDHA How do you know the truth? Truth is the operative word in this section, whereas voice is its secondary focus. Most people are focusing on voice and expression at the Throat Chakra — that is, the capacity to express ideas and thoughts. What matters most is not how you talk at the Throat Chakra, but what you convey. The "what" is your truth, your most insightful wisdom; the "how" is your medium to express your truth. Both the "what" and "how" of truth are sitting here at the Throat Chakra, at the center of your physical throat (or the apple of your Adam). What do you mean by "truth?" Many claim the reality is a personal quest to discover the values and beliefs that drive choices and decisions about your life. Others suggest that a collective truth exists, a unified wisdom to which all can aspire and seek integration. Let the intersection of these two approaches inspire you to explore individual and collective truths to understand how to integrate what you see, learn and experience into your life. Throat Chakra Gemstones The gems of this chakra are believed to be the gems of Lemuria, an ancient civilization aligned with the realm of the dolphin, which reflect knowledge that had been preserved and held in crystals before the destruction of that community. One of the main Lemurian gemstones, AQUA Atmosphere QUARTZ is a powerful purifier of the atmosphere and also encourages power, tenacity and stability. •       AMAZONITE is the primary stone of reality, and it enhances confidence for public speakers, allowing them to express with ease even the most difficult words and themes. •       ANGELITE (in crystalline form, known as CELESTITE) invokes the angelic forces to evoke in your spaces the presence of angels, like archangels. Take this jewel with you or sleep by it to feel more connected to your own personal angels and guides. •       Since centuries TURQUOISE has been valued by indigenous Americans who find it a powerful purifier and healer, as well as a tool that strengthens and defends warriors in combat. It was revered as a source of good fortune in antiquity Persia. Connect to your gemstones in the Throat Chakra in moments of anxiety or frustration. Here's how to do this: Lie down in a comfortable position and keep in your right hand, the receiving one, one or three of your beloved light blue Throat Chakra crystals, through which energy reaches your body. (Some people feel their left hand is their Receiving Hand; go with what they feel right for you.) Set the intention to receive the gifts of the Throat Chakra, peace, wisdom and truth. Then move the stones to your hand, or Projecting Side, so you can take the energy out into the universe as a gift for everyone. Imagine a bright blue ray of truth and light beaming out into the world for everyone to see, receive and enjoy.

 When St. Kari of the Blade Met Luke Skywalker, Star Wars Jedi Knight  “What’s that?” Kari asked pointing to the silvery object attached to Luke’s waist. “It’s my lightsaber,” Luke said cautiously, not knowing where this was going. “It’s like your sword, only many years advanced.” “I see me thinks,” grinned Kari, “although I cannot see how such a short object labors as a sword. Can you show me how? Here, block my blade.” Kari pull-whipped her sharp, simple straight edge fast and held it so that its steel shaft was stationed off Lukes left shoulder. “I don’t want to ruin your sword,” Luke said with a slight grinning shrug. “It will cut your blade in half.” “No it shan’t. C’mon and try” quipped Kari, her violet-grey eyes dancing with mirth. Luke felt compelled just a little bit to teach the seemingly uncomplicated girl a lesson in advanced blade-play. He struck at her sword, but to his amazement, the laser did not cut through Kari’s antiquated, plain cross-hilt weapon, as it easily should have. She wryed and smiled. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Luke said eyes widening in surprise. “The only thing that resists a lightsaber cut is Cortosis.” “Let me try cutting at you,” Kari said, her gridelin eyes glittering in delight. As she struck Luke’s sword, the neat humming cylindrical beam of laser light that was Luke’s blade fell as one solid piece to the ground and began to eat itself inward and disappear, both ends vaporizing and fizzling, meeting in the middle and ending with a loud “pop!” “How did you do that?” Skywalker asked in amazement. “What’s your sword made of?” Kari smiled. “My sword is made of adamantine eternal belief. It both cut and resisted your blade because I shalled it to. I am she. All swordplay in the ’Halla exists on the edge of belief, something you will have to learn if you are to survive here whilst your sky-ship is being refitted and rigged out. Learn about the ’Halla, Luke.” Luke awkwardly grimaced. His lightsaber was an amazing piece of advanced technology and here this wispy backwater of a fencing lass had just “out-believed” him, making his well-ahead art of laser swordplay more primitive than the girl’s unadorned straightedge. He remembered Yoda’s words on failure and belief and felt stupid. The word Jedi was not in Kari’s vocabulary, Luke thought, but notwithstanding, she seemed more than a Jedi than he.

The Nazis’ greatest rivals, the Social Democrats, offered none of that. Instead, their worldview—with its promise of what Orwell called “comfort, safety, short-working hours”—only restricted their popular appeal. A perennial problem of democracy was finding a way to enable voters to combine their self-interest with some overarching notion of the public good. Not even America’s Founding Fathers really had a solution to the conflict: their answer, drawn from their readings in classical antiquity, was to put their faith in a gentlemanly elite inspired by the Roman ideals of integrity, virtue, and disinterestedness, a “natural aristocracy” in Jefferson’s words, or the kind of leaders Madison called “proper guardians of the public weal.” But even if it became clear how to determine who these natural aristocrats and proper guardians were, the larger issue was how to persuade the mass of voters to elect them.

HECATE TRIMORPHIS Antiquity provides the inspired Witch or Warlock with a vast body of knowledge concerning one of the most ancient, revered and feared deity known as Hecate. From ancient Greek and Greco-Roman myth, religion and magick traditions and her many epithets and masks, the Triple Goddess is incarnated in various forms and names in Celtic, Norse, Germanic, Thracian, Scythian and the Hellenistic world through the Christian period. The lore and wisdom of the circle reveals that the feminine and masculine powers which embody the Lord and Lady of the Sabbat are of equal quality. To be awakened as Baphomet – Cain, the Luciferian must attain a beginning of balance between Samael and Lilith. Be it known, these are Names of Power and there are numerous types of Deific Power within the elements and this world of flesh and spirit. Lilith is one mask of the goddess, representing a type of manifestation of that power. The goddess Hecate is another equally terrible and beautiful Deific Mask which is a foundation for the Luciferian Path. Hecate tests, challenges and reveals the complete circle of Above and Below. The Left-Hand Path is one of the Crooked Serpent; the Leviathanic-dragon which emerges from the deepest darkness, coiling upward to be Crowned in the Emerald and Amethyst brilliance of the sun. In this is found metaphor and knowledge, mark well the keys to your Apotheosis upon this path. You will not bow before another; all symbols and powers are incarnated in your flesh and spirit. To join the gods in the Sabbatic Circle of the Dream is to bring under your power the spirits of ancient forces which will be consumed in the diabolic ecstasies of nocturnal flight. Hecate has many faces, names and forms. To understand this great power, we must know her names and the whispers often too soft for the uninitiated to hear. In the Chaldean Oracles, Neoplatonism elevates Hecate to a goddess who has numerous incarnations and a wide authority of power. In the Oracles, Hecate is the Queen of Daimons; she personifies powers of matter and nature. The Chaldean Hecate reflects as a mirror the nature of the soul embodied in matter; she equals in approach the internal condition of the soul and matter. There are several traditions and variations of the Names of Power and Deific Masks Hecate assumes as a Triad, I have listed three examples. HECATE TRIODOTIS (of the Crossroads or Three-ways) Phoibie – Holds a key in her right hand and a blazing torch in her left hand. Dione – Holds a whip in her right hand and a burning torch in her left hand. Nychie – Holds a serpent in her right hand and dagger in her left hand. A second example of the Triad: HECATE TRIMORPHIS (Three-formed) Luna Lucifera (the Moon) in Heaven Diana Artemis on Earth, Hecate Phosphoros (Bringer of Light, Carrier of the Torch, the Morning Star) Hecate Chthonia (of the Underworld)

I thought bravery had deserted me, but it hadn't. It had been swallowed by grief, and now I was slowly emerging from that pool.