Acolo sint toate

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To sleep, perchance to dream

[...] we now also know that pre-industrial families commonly experienced a "broken" pattern of sleep, though few contemporaries regarded it in a pejorative light. Until the modern age, most households had two distinct intervals of slumber, known as "first" and "second" sleep, bridged by an hour or more of quiet wakefulness. Usually, people would retire between 9 and 10 o'clock only to stir past midnight to smoke a pipe, brew a tub of ale or even converse with a neighbor.

Others remained in bed to pray or make love. This time after the first sleep was praised as uniquely suited for sexual intimacy; rested couples have "more enjoyment" and "do it better," as one 16th-century French doctor wrote. Often, people might simply have lain in bed ruminating on the meaning of a fresh dream, thereby permitting the conscious mind a window onto the human psyche that remains shuttered for those in the modern day too quick to awake and arise.

The principal explanation for this enigmatic pattern of slumber probably lies in the nocturnal darkness that enveloped pre-industrial households — in short, the absence of artificial lighting. There is a growing consensus on the impact of modern lighting on sleep. The Harvard chronobiologist Charles A. Czeisler has aptly likened lighting to a drug in its physiological effects, producing, among other changes, altered levels of melatonin, the brain hormone that helps to regulate our circadian clock.

In fact, during clinical experiments at the National Institute of Mental Health, human subjects deprived of light at night for weeks at a time exhibited a segmented pattern of sleep closely resembling that related in historical sources (as well as that still exhibited by many wild mammals). The subjects also experienced, during intervals of wakefulness, measurably higher levels of prolactin, the hormone that allows hens to sit happily upon their eggs for long periods.

New York Times, Dreams Deferred

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Sa dam piept cu realitatea. Cu Realitatea, bre...

Doamnelor si domnilor, stimati zbuciumati recenti si atomici si carele consumati media pe piine, inclusiv Internet si bloguri de-astea nefolositoare si chiar si inutile,

azi, luni 4 aprile 2011, la orele 13:00 trecute fix, stimatul Turambar aka eu va participa plenar si in esclusivitate, chiar si in direct si cu tot corpul din dotare, la emisiunea de pe Realitatea FM produsa / realizata / prezentata / regizata / montata si editata de stimabila doamna Anca Florea. Emisiunea nu stiu cum se cheama, dar doamna Anca Florea este o doamna, deci musai obligat sa mergem acolo si sa facem frumos bubico de maniera spontana si cinica si sociologica, asa cum stie Turambar, mai ales cind este sub influenta procentelor.

Atentie! Copii, nu conduceti sub influenta procentelor! Consumul exagerat de sondaje dauneaza grav sanatatii! Oameni buni, fiti responsabili si nu consumati sondaje cit timp sinteti in procesul de creare a realitatii.

A Realitatii, da? :wink: Citeste tot...

Pai sa nu dai cu ei de Pamint, mama lor de oameni de stiinta?

The Pale Blue Dot is a photograph of planet Earth taken in 1990 by Voyager 1 from a record distance [6.1 billion kilometers], showing it against the vastness of space.

By request of Carl Sagan, NASA commanded the Voyager 1 spacecraft, having completed its primary mission and now leaving the Solar System, to turn its camera around and to take a photograph of Earth across a great expanse of space.

From Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space:

Ann Druyan suggests an experiment: Look back again at the pale blue dot of the preceding chapter. Take a good long look at it. Stare at the dot for any length of time and then try to convince yourself that God created the whole Universe for one of the 10 million or so species of life that inhabit that speck of dust.

Now take it a step further: Imagine that everything was made just for a single shade of that species, or gender, or ethnic or religious subdivision.

If this doesn’t strike you as unlikely, pick another dot. Imagine it to be inhabited by a different form of intelligent life. They, too, cherish the notion of a God who has created everything for their benefit.

How seriously do you take their claim?

Courtesy of Vlad Tarko. Cu dedicatie pentru Theophyle Sensei, care e ferm convins ca exista - cel putin in forma aia antropomorfico-binzdicoasa recomandata in manualul bunului crestin :) :wink:



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Cine a conceput asta n-are nici o speranta sa fie intreg la cap

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Pe-o gura de rai

Raiul, dupa cum stie orice om cu scaun la cap si dezbarat de iluzii, nu exista.

Nu exista decit in capetele astea ale noastre pline de speranta. Mereu speranta. Mereu speranta. Poate, poate. Da, Doamne, sa fie ceva si dincolo. Pardon: Dincolo, cu D mare de la Depresie, Disperare, Dezamagire si Dorinta.

Insa Raiul, doamnelor si domnilor, deja exista. Exista aici, acum.

Si el suna asa:



In fiecare zi de-as asculta Variatiile Goldberg, in fiecare zi mi-ar provoca aceeasi spasma de rai. Acelasi rictus de fericire. Aceeasi zvircolire de nirvana. Si nu m-as satura. Si as mai vrea inca o data.

Si asta este raiul, nu?

Hai, fitzi credinciosi si credeti in raiul de zi cu zi, zbuciumatilor... Citeste tot...

Tendenko

E fabulos sa vezi ca intr-o situatie de catastrofa, copii de 10 - 12 ani isi tin cumpatul si aplica ce au invatat, desi instinctul le spune sa fuga la mama acasa. Dar daca ar face asta, pur si simplu ar pierde timp pretios si in loc sa fuga spre deal, spre zone inalte, in siguranta, s-ar duce drept in gura tsunami-ului.

E fabulos cita disciplina, incredere in ceilalti si altruism se pot gasi in acest popor.

Doamnelor si domnilor, tendenko. Cititi si bucurati-va pentru miile de copii care au scapat cu viata pentru ca au avut incredere in ce au invatat la scoala. Citeste tot...

Ultima oara ca intiiashi data

Damn it. E a doua oara in decurs de citiva ani cind imi dau lacrimile pe aceeasi muzica si cind sint mindru, fericit, eliberat de asta.

Pe 19 aprilie ne ducem la Lodz, in Polonia, sa-l vedem pe Waters.

Insa pe toti patru nu-i vom mai vedea niciodata. Decit asa.

Hai, sa curga muzica precum norii lungi pe sesuri si sa ne aducem aminte de imposibilul trecut.

:bow:

Courtesy of Traian aka Mosh Califar.

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Mie astea doua mi plac cel mai mult

Recent, Semanticus, in buna traditie de analist politic de rit suprarealist si oniric, asa cum ii sade bine fiecarui comentator al realitatii romanesti multilateral zguduite din zilele noastre, s-a gindit sa se alature corului de bocitoare antice dar aprige care cinta prohodul societatii, civilizatiei si apei calde ca urmare a scurgerilor radioactive de informatii catre presa, varianta Wikilics Romanica.

Dar asta nu inseamna ca Semanticus a cazut in pacatul sus-numitelor bocitoare, de a fi simplificator, patimas, partinic ori chiar si rau intentionat. Nu, din contra. Cu o neasteptata vigoare pozitiva, el vine sa adauge un aer proaspat subiectului, o perspectiva inovatoare si indrazneata, in care eticul se imbina cu esteticul si rezulta esticul.

Mai mult, Semanticus, dovedind o eruditie interdisciplinara demna de o cauza mai buna, introduce in discutie clasici uitati care insa se dovedesc a fi cit se poate de contemporani.

Toate acestea ne indrituiesc sa salutam aparitia pe scena politico-dramatica a unui nume despre care cu siguranta vom mai auzi. Doamnelor si domnilor, Semanticus despre Wikilics, pe baza studiilor de caracter balzaciene realizate in urma cu doua decenii de catre remarcabilul devoalator al sufletului balcanic, Matty.







O discutie despre partea a doua a acestei adevarate Capele Sixtine modelate in coca de wikilics, aici. Citeste tot...

Asa-mi vine citeodata...

I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end;
Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.
Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep;
For these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep.

Sweet is the treading of wine, and sweet the feet of the dove;
But a goodlier gift is thine than foam of the grapes or love.
Yea, is not even Apollo, with hair and harpstring of gold,
A bitter God to follow, a beautiful God to behold?

I am sick of singing: the bays burn deep and chafe: I am fain
To rest a little from praise and grievous pleasure and pain.
For the Gods we know not of, who give us our daily breath,
We know they are cruel as love or life, and lovely as death.

O Gods dethroned and deceased, cast forth, wiped out in a day
From your wrath is the world released, redeemed from your chains, men say.
New Gods are crowned in the city; their flowers have broken your rods;
They are merciful, clothed with pity, the young compassionate Gods.

But for me their new device is barren, the days are bare;
Things long past over suffice, and men forgotten that were.
Time and the Gods are at strife; ye dwell in the midst thereof,
Draining a little life from the barren breasts of love.

I say to you, cease, take rest; yea, I say to you all, be at peace,
Till the bitter milk of her breast and the barren bosom shall cease.

Algernon C. Swinburne, Hymn to Prosepine Citeste tot...