On our way back home from Harmanli, we passed through a most amazing place, the mosque-church in Uzundjovo. It is one of the oldest Buglarian churches, and has a really intense and interesting history. It really pays off to visit this inspiring place, and to listen to its keepers' devoped story.
The original church was build in 1500, then destroyed, and in 1593 a mosque was built upon the remaining walls. In 1906, it is again turned into an orthodox church. Its unique architechture and interior hold numerous symbolic meanings, revealed to the curious visitor by the incredible Bay Dencho, a devoter keper of the temple, who has spent numerous hours in decipehring the "hidden code" imprinted in the iconostasis, the wall decorations and the exterior of the church.
His melodious voice will tell you an amazing story about the temple's architect and constructor, a semi-legendary master Lalyo (tulip), who has imprinted a number of tulips in his construction, leaving a vast deal of messages to his successors for contemplation and deciphering. The master was a turk of Bulgarian origin, and the mosque he build was not turned to Mecca, but followed the Cristian canon, and the entrance was directed to south-east.
Bay Dencho, a devote believer, who is not however a religious fanatic, will share his interpretation of the temple's messages - a story of religious tolerance and inclusion, a deep understanding of the singularity of god within all world religions, and a somewhat mystic totally unorthodox belief about the capacity of the human soul to reincarnate, and to expand and include clashing view and beliefs in its on-going worldly struggle for perfection. It is really amazing to listen to this man, who is definitely deeply religious, and still has a unique ability to internalize his beliefs, and make them deeply practical, relevant and valuable for his own existence. I only wish I can claim the same degree of ownership over a clear, organized and internalized value-code and moral system to guide me and determine who I am in life.
The church features a number of first-time cultural treasures - like the first glagolic prayer in an iconostasis. At present, this is the biggest village-church in Bulgaria, and you should definitely go and see it!!!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Closely connected to the idea of historical provincialism is yet another interesting concept, crafted by American sociologist C. Wright Mills. He wrote a book titled "The Sociological imagination," in which he closely sdudies the process of linking one's individual experience to historical change and institutional contradiction.
Here is a beautiful quote from his book: "Seldom aware of the intricate connection between the patterns of their own lives and the course of world history, ordinary men do not usually know what this connection means for the kinds of men they are becoming and for the kinds of history-making in which they might take part. They do not possess the quality of mind essential to grasp the interplay of man and society, of biography and history, of self and world. They cannot cope with their personal troubles in such ways as to control the structural transformations that usually lie behind them."
One example Mills gives, is of an unemployed man who is so focused on his personal tragedy, and even guilt at being incapable of finding a job, that seldom realizes the economic factors that have led to his present condition. A woman, raising her children alone during a state of war, will not be able to look beyond the hardship of her day-to-day struggles for survival.
Developing a "sociological imagination" will enable the individual to develop an ability to participate in social life and even create social change, by analyzing his individual condition within a broader perspective of historical or social reality. However, this is not an easy task. It requires "a quality of mind" which is trained and skilled at filtering loads of information in a contemporary society, and formulating meaningful connections between the historical reality and the individual experience.
This sense of possession and ownership on the personal within a historical context acts in both directions: on one side, it will eliminate the feeling of being trapped by an alienating social reality (a reality thight might be in contrast with the moral values or sensitivity of the individual); and on the other hand, it will equip the individual with an enpowering awareness of his own ability to participate, influence and create the present state of social reality.
The intersection of biography and history within a society creates a strong sense of self-consciousness, allowing the individual to link personal troubles to social issues, and not only understand them better, but by finding individual solutions, to also find answers to broader social issues. A truly empowering perspective, linking self to society and history in an inseparable wholistic experience of reality...
Here is a beautiful quote from his book: "Seldom aware of the intricate connection between the patterns of their own lives and the course of world history, ordinary men do not usually know what this connection means for the kinds of men they are becoming and for the kinds of history-making in which they might take part. They do not possess the quality of mind essential to grasp the interplay of man and society, of biography and history, of self and world. They cannot cope with their personal troubles in such ways as to control the structural transformations that usually lie behind them."
One example Mills gives, is of an unemployed man who is so focused on his personal tragedy, and even guilt at being incapable of finding a job, that seldom realizes the economic factors that have led to his present condition. A woman, raising her children alone during a state of war, will not be able to look beyond the hardship of her day-to-day struggles for survival.
Developing a "sociological imagination" will enable the individual to develop an ability to participate in social life and even create social change, by analyzing his individual condition within a broader perspective of historical or social reality. However, this is not an easy task. It requires "a quality of mind" which is trained and skilled at filtering loads of information in a contemporary society, and formulating meaningful connections between the historical reality and the individual experience.
This sense of possession and ownership on the personal within a historical context acts in both directions: on one side, it will eliminate the feeling of being trapped by an alienating social reality (a reality thight might be in contrast with the moral values or sensitivity of the individual); and on the other hand, it will equip the individual with an enpowering awareness of his own ability to participate, influence and create the present state of social reality.
The intersection of biography and history within a society creates a strong sense of self-consciousness, allowing the individual to link personal troubles to social issues, and not only understand them better, but by finding individual solutions, to also find answers to broader social issues. A truly empowering perspective, linking self to society and history in an inseparable wholistic experience of reality...
While reading a book by Polish journalist Ryszard Kapuscinski, I came upon a very intriguing concept, called "historical provincialism" or "chronological snobbery".
It is hard to find many studies on the topic, however, Christopher Dawson in his book "The Crisis of Western Education," writes the following: "Until a man acquires some knowledge of another culture, he cannot be said to be educated, since his outlook is so conditioned by his own social environment that he does not recognize its limitations... he almost inevitably tends to accept the standards and values of his own society as absolute." Further on he indicated the importance of "widening the intellectual horizon by initiation into a different world of cultre," and/or, respectively, a different historical time.
This is indeed a very insightful study of the need to educate young people about history in a way which will help them build a solid understanding of evolution and historical change, which has led to their present historical and social reality. The opposition of the core, or the focus on present and reality, isolated from the periphery, or the past, which has "created' the present reality, is what characterizes historical provincialism. In other words, the unawareness of the historical change or evolution which has influenced our present state of existence.
In this sense, studying history as a mere succession of facts and dates, does not contribute to taking a person out of his provincial state of mind. What matters is creating the ability to reason on the correlations between these facts and their power to influence the present. Studying history is shifted away from the factology, more into a study of the history of ideas, knowledge and evolution.
Defining this new type of provincialism, automatically alters the understanding of what cosmopolitanism is; this is no longer a "space" category, but already a "time" category as well. Studying a different culture, is linked to studing a different period of time, and broadening our horizons on a multidementional grid. Caring for foreing ideas, becomes linked with caring for past ones.
Historical localism and illiberality is probably not as dangerous as traditional provincialism, because it is much more difficult to link it to issues such as racism, intolerance and nationalism. Historical provincialism seems like a more intellectual limitation. In an interview, titled "Curing Provincialism, Why We Educate the Way We Do", Jaques Barzun says, "the student who reads history will unconsciously develop what is the highest value of history: judgement in world affairs. This is a permanent good, not because history repeats... but because the 'tendency of things' shows an amazing uniformity within any given civilization. The great historian, Jacob Burckhardt, said of historical knowledge, it is not 'to make us more clever the next time, but wiser for all time'."
Curing our historical provincialism, will give us not only knowledge, but wisdom as well. What could be a better conclusion on the topic :)
It is hard to find many studies on the topic, however, Christopher Dawson in his book "The Crisis of Western Education," writes the following: "Until a man acquires some knowledge of another culture, he cannot be said to be educated, since his outlook is so conditioned by his own social environment that he does not recognize its limitations... he almost inevitably tends to accept the standards and values of his own society as absolute." Further on he indicated the importance of "widening the intellectual horizon by initiation into a different world of cultre," and/or, respectively, a different historical time.
This is indeed a very insightful study of the need to educate young people about history in a way which will help them build a solid understanding of evolution and historical change, which has led to their present historical and social reality. The opposition of the core, or the focus on present and reality, isolated from the periphery, or the past, which has "created' the present reality, is what characterizes historical provincialism. In other words, the unawareness of the historical change or evolution which has influenced our present state of existence.
In this sense, studying history as a mere succession of facts and dates, does not contribute to taking a person out of his provincial state of mind. What matters is creating the ability to reason on the correlations between these facts and their power to influence the present. Studying history is shifted away from the factology, more into a study of the history of ideas, knowledge and evolution.
Defining this new type of provincialism, automatically alters the understanding of what cosmopolitanism is; this is no longer a "space" category, but already a "time" category as well. Studying a different culture, is linked to studing a different period of time, and broadening our horizons on a multidementional grid. Caring for foreing ideas, becomes linked with caring for past ones.
Historical localism and illiberality is probably not as dangerous as traditional provincialism, because it is much more difficult to link it to issues such as racism, intolerance and nationalism. Historical provincialism seems like a more intellectual limitation. In an interview, titled "Curing Provincialism, Why We Educate the Way We Do", Jaques Barzun says, "the student who reads history will unconsciously develop what is the highest value of history: judgement in world affairs. This is a permanent good, not because history repeats... but because the 'tendency of things' shows an amazing uniformity within any given civilization. The great historian, Jacob Burckhardt, said of historical knowledge, it is not 'to make us more clever the next time, but wiser for all time'."
Curing our historical provincialism, will give us not only knowledge, but wisdom as well. What could be a better conclusion on the topic :)
Sunday, November 1, 2009
How does the world look like without our beloved diado in it? How can you ever overcome the guilty feeling that you have not made enough, showed enough that you care, or called or visited enough, when you are told for sure how he has asked for you to the last day?
My grandpa left this world on Friday. On his last day, he made his customary 1,5-hour walk, both in the morning and in the afternoon; he went to dinner, asking for a glass of this year's not-even-fully-fermented red wine; at 10 p.m. he called granny for a glass of compot, and asked for a chokolate sweet. Then, at around 2 a.m. went to the bathroom, completed his toilet, and when it took too long for him to come back, grandma called my uncle. He found him in the bathroom, and diado told him "I have no strength to go back to bed". He complained about feeling some heaviness in the stomach, cold perspiration covered him, while uncle almost carried him to bed. He tried to measure his blood pressure, and could not hear the pulse. Then he called for the ambulance. Uncle says he heard him whisper "Son, I'm leaving now". Uncle ran downstairs to wait for the albulance. Grandpa's head fell to one side, and he was gone... In less than 10 minutes. His last companion was granny, the woman he had spent 62 years together, and courted for 5 years before that.
He looked so calm, as if fallen asleep. He left this world without pain, without a single grain of pain... Without suffering or regrets. Thinking about us, his grandchildren. Only his right eye was slightly open, and it fully closed after the last of his grandchildren lay flowers at his deathbed...
On the day of the funeral, after 24 hours of rain, the sun broke the clouded veil exactly at 11 in the morning. The hour of diado's usual morning walk. The sun accompanied him during his last walk on this earth.
The day before he died, he was listening to the weather forecast. The news anchor was explaing that the winter is coming, and permanent negative tempreratures are settling in. Diado shared with granny "How will I ever live without my daily walks. I can't bear the thought of being tied to bed all winter". So he went, on the first rainy day of autumn, as if afraid of having to stay home, hidden from the cold. The only thought that terrified him was of falling sick in bed, and being a buden to his family. He told us, that he would live until he walked. So he walked, until 10 minutes before he left us forever.
The really amazing thing was, that for two days, tens of his friends, relatives and neighbors were coming to say goodbay to diado, and all of them came smiling, and telling funny stories about him. He had the most amazing sense of humor, and was the most positive person we all knew. Even gathered around his dead body, we would remember stories, and burst into laughter, and for sheer seconds, it would look as if he was also smiling, and sharing these moments with us.
For him, the greatest joy in the world was when the whole family gathered together at holidays. So I am pretty sure, he was so happy to have us all there, loughing, tasting his new wine, remembering all the unforgettable moments together. Aven after that, he succeeded in bringing us together, and making us laugh... with him.
I hope that while his soul is still with us, he will come to me at night, and listen to me when I whisper to him that I lvoe him, that I miss him, that he has given me so much, and that all my life I have been immensely proud of him. I have his letter in my name. So he will stay with me forever.
Rest in peace, dear, diado. We all love you so much!!!
My grandpa left this world on Friday. On his last day, he made his customary 1,5-hour walk, both in the morning and in the afternoon; he went to dinner, asking for a glass of this year's not-even-fully-fermented red wine; at 10 p.m. he called granny for a glass of compot, and asked for a chokolate sweet. Then, at around 2 a.m. went to the bathroom, completed his toilet, and when it took too long for him to come back, grandma called my uncle. He found him in the bathroom, and diado told him "I have no strength to go back to bed". He complained about feeling some heaviness in the stomach, cold perspiration covered him, while uncle almost carried him to bed. He tried to measure his blood pressure, and could not hear the pulse. Then he called for the ambulance. Uncle says he heard him whisper "Son, I'm leaving now". Uncle ran downstairs to wait for the albulance. Grandpa's head fell to one side, and he was gone... In less than 10 minutes. His last companion was granny, the woman he had spent 62 years together, and courted for 5 years before that.
He looked so calm, as if fallen asleep. He left this world without pain, without a single grain of pain... Without suffering or regrets. Thinking about us, his grandchildren. Only his right eye was slightly open, and it fully closed after the last of his grandchildren lay flowers at his deathbed...
On the day of the funeral, after 24 hours of rain, the sun broke the clouded veil exactly at 11 in the morning. The hour of diado's usual morning walk. The sun accompanied him during his last walk on this earth.
The day before he died, he was listening to the weather forecast. The news anchor was explaing that the winter is coming, and permanent negative tempreratures are settling in. Diado shared with granny "How will I ever live without my daily walks. I can't bear the thought of being tied to bed all winter". So he went, on the first rainy day of autumn, as if afraid of having to stay home, hidden from the cold. The only thought that terrified him was of falling sick in bed, and being a buden to his family. He told us, that he would live until he walked. So he walked, until 10 minutes before he left us forever.
The really amazing thing was, that for two days, tens of his friends, relatives and neighbors were coming to say goodbay to diado, and all of them came smiling, and telling funny stories about him. He had the most amazing sense of humor, and was the most positive person we all knew. Even gathered around his dead body, we would remember stories, and burst into laughter, and for sheer seconds, it would look as if he was also smiling, and sharing these moments with us.
For him, the greatest joy in the world was when the whole family gathered together at holidays. So I am pretty sure, he was so happy to have us all there, loughing, tasting his new wine, remembering all the unforgettable moments together. Aven after that, he succeeded in bringing us together, and making us laugh... with him.
I hope that while his soul is still with us, he will come to me at night, and listen to me when I whisper to him that I lvoe him, that I miss him, that he has given me so much, and that all my life I have been immensely proud of him. I have his letter in my name. So he will stay with me forever.
Rest in peace, dear, diado. We all love you so much!!!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
It's been an especially gray day today, cold, rainy and cheerless; so I tried to protect my downsized spirits by cozing in a comfortable big shaw, drinking a bottle of red wine, and, of course, watching a romance. I have a theory about romantic love, proven to a certain extend by my own experiences.
I have noticed that we tend to experience a big crash-boom-bang when we are going through a hard period of our own lives. Whenever I an extended period of crashed self-confidence, unsatisfactory social life, and work-related routineness, any unexpected, out-of-the-box meeting with any funny, above-mediocre, ok-looking guy send flutters down my stomach. I don't fall head over heel with him, of course, but I kind of expect him to fall for me, and come to my rescue... and introduce me to a piece of magic in an overall unmagical world.
So imagine that he does, and imagine that he is even half as gorgeous as you pre-imagined him to be, and you also begin to feel something for him - and there it is, the perfect formula, the perfect romance. Most of its beauty happens in your own head, most of the time, it is your own imaginaiton filling in the gaps...
Unfortunately, this kind of love is flawed at it very heart, because it stems from your weaknesses. From your mutual desire to live out a fairytale, in which someone devoted, and caring, comes to your rescue, and changes the world for you... And then you forget, that it is you who should change the world, and bring about the incremental differences that would make you a happier and more accomplished person. No one else should do it for you, no one else should place the plate with the ready dish on your table...
So, differently from a great romance, a great love will come to you not when you are down, and feeling bad about your life, and will come when you are flying out high, egoistically creating a world of your fashion, building and doing, and making, and loving yourself above anything else. Only then will you recognize love as what it is. The scary urge to compromise your fears and sterotypes, in order to become a little more perfect for someone else. No saviors, no tears, no ending your life for him... just the pure joy of becoming a better person and doing it together with someone else.
I have noticed that we tend to experience a big crash-boom-bang when we are going through a hard period of our own lives. Whenever I an extended period of crashed self-confidence, unsatisfactory social life, and work-related routineness, any unexpected, out-of-the-box meeting with any funny, above-mediocre, ok-looking guy send flutters down my stomach. I don't fall head over heel with him, of course, but I kind of expect him to fall for me, and come to my rescue... and introduce me to a piece of magic in an overall unmagical world.
So imagine that he does, and imagine that he is even half as gorgeous as you pre-imagined him to be, and you also begin to feel something for him - and there it is, the perfect formula, the perfect romance. Most of its beauty happens in your own head, most of the time, it is your own imaginaiton filling in the gaps...
Unfortunately, this kind of love is flawed at it very heart, because it stems from your weaknesses. From your mutual desire to live out a fairytale, in which someone devoted, and caring, comes to your rescue, and changes the world for you... And then you forget, that it is you who should change the world, and bring about the incremental differences that would make you a happier and more accomplished person. No one else should do it for you, no one else should place the plate with the ready dish on your table...
So, differently from a great romance, a great love will come to you not when you are down, and feeling bad about your life, and will come when you are flying out high, egoistically creating a world of your fashion, building and doing, and making, and loving yourself above anything else. Only then will you recognize love as what it is. The scary urge to compromise your fears and sterotypes, in order to become a little more perfect for someone else. No saviors, no tears, no ending your life for him... just the pure joy of becoming a better person and doing it together with someone else.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
I tend to become obsessively interested by movies on a certain topic. After my Indian period, followed by portrayals of interracial relationships, immigration, and contemporary religious societies, I am now focused on gay interest films. If you are ever interested by the topic, I can recommend my top selection:
- Brokeback Mountain - it's haunting, literally, narrates all the drama of being a homosexual in an alienated society; to the point of ruining your entire life; and so much more...
- Shelter - the absolute opposite of BB - an absolute celebration of being who you are
- Milk
- Billy Elliot
- Latter Days
These movies remind me how amazingly dirrefent people are; but the love we feel for each other is universal. It is never whom we love, but always how we love them that matters.
I actually think that we live in a time which is so fluid and flexible; it is easier to be curious and to explore your differences in ways which have never been acceptable before. If I want to get turned on, I would look at a woman's picture, rather than a man's. How much lesbian does apreciation of the beautiful curvy shapes of a woman make me? If I kiss a girl, how much is it a celebration of the intimacy of our friendship, and how much is it a desire for something more? The thing is, you can do it, and then explore your experience; and not think about it, and never do it. That's the time we live in, and what's good about it.
- Brokeback Mountain - it's haunting, literally, narrates all the drama of being a homosexual in an alienated society; to the point of ruining your entire life; and so much more...
- Shelter - the absolute opposite of BB - an absolute celebration of being who you are
- Milk
- Billy Elliot
- Latter Days
These movies remind me how amazingly dirrefent people are; but the love we feel for each other is universal. It is never whom we love, but always how we love them that matters.
I actually think that we live in a time which is so fluid and flexible; it is easier to be curious and to explore your differences in ways which have never been acceptable before. If I want to get turned on, I would look at a woman's picture, rather than a man's. How much lesbian does apreciation of the beautiful curvy shapes of a woman make me? If I kiss a girl, how much is it a celebration of the intimacy of our friendship, and how much is it a desire for something more? The thing is, you can do it, and then explore your experience; and not think about it, and never do it. That's the time we live in, and what's good about it.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Getting started
A blank page is too demanding, because you feel a need to say something really clever, funny and meaningful to make your mark. A blank page spreads in front of you in all its frightening purity, and the black letters are all too visible when they are all too few.
With a couple of friends we travelled to experience the U2 concert in Zagreb a few weeks ago. They all had seated tickets, and I was the only one with a stading ticket at the field. Everyone was all too woried about me going all alone in the crowd, they tried to hook me up with some other friends, so that I had a company. I had to be really sneaky to escape all this concern. Because I really wanted to do this by myself, and experience my most favorite band ever by being a single atom in a huge crowd of exulted fans.
It felt incredible to feel surrounded by the heat of hundreds of excited bodies, just inches from my own, to hear the cries and singing of a thousand voices in my ears, and yes to have a totally singular experience within the deafening crowd. It was a totally extatic feeling, yet the carnival experience did not consume me entirelly, and all the time I could feel exactly where my own exultation began, culminated and ended.
Mintes after the concert died, I felt almost drunk with elation. In a relly funny state, in which you kind of expect that something trully remarkable should happen to you to make this moment genuinely memorable. Every person I met in that moment, every word I said, every laugh I enjoyed still stick in my memory, and I revisit them, as an inseparable part of the concert itself.
Sharing what I just experienced with total strangers around me made it so much more special. I was actually happy that there was not a single friend with me at that moment, because I could enjoy a totally different vision of myself, and experiment with who I was, right there, right then.
This incredible music totally transformed me in 2 incredible hours. All my friends thought I was crazy.
So, was my going alone to a concert the emanation of solitude and alienation; or was it a really special moment of idependence?
With a couple of friends we travelled to experience the U2 concert in Zagreb a few weeks ago. They all had seated tickets, and I was the only one with a stading ticket at the field. Everyone was all too woried about me going all alone in the crowd, they tried to hook me up with some other friends, so that I had a company. I had to be really sneaky to escape all this concern. Because I really wanted to do this by myself, and experience my most favorite band ever by being a single atom in a huge crowd of exulted fans.
It felt incredible to feel surrounded by the heat of hundreds of excited bodies, just inches from my own, to hear the cries and singing of a thousand voices in my ears, and yes to have a totally singular experience within the deafening crowd. It was a totally extatic feeling, yet the carnival experience did not consume me entirelly, and all the time I could feel exactly where my own exultation began, culminated and ended.
Mintes after the concert died, I felt almost drunk with elation. In a relly funny state, in which you kind of expect that something trully remarkable should happen to you to make this moment genuinely memorable. Every person I met in that moment, every word I said, every laugh I enjoyed still stick in my memory, and I revisit them, as an inseparable part of the concert itself.
Sharing what I just experienced with total strangers around me made it so much more special. I was actually happy that there was not a single friend with me at that moment, because I could enjoy a totally different vision of myself, and experiment with who I was, right there, right then.
This incredible music totally transformed me in 2 incredible hours. All my friends thought I was crazy.
So, was my going alone to a concert the emanation of solitude and alienation; or was it a really special moment of idependence?
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