Εσχατων των Ημερων:

Eschaton ton Emeron….

The end of days…

–David E. T. Emeron

Curiously, my middle initials….?

Or in modern Greek, simply “εσχατων ημερων,” (“eschaton emeron”) or “Last Days.”

Strange the patterns that occur in linguistics.  Or even “David” from Hebrew to English and thence to Greek:

–Αγαπητός  Ημερων

–Agapitos  Emeron

–(Dear Day)

Sometimes, it can be…

…a trial, to read that which one does not understand.  And as such, I do not mean “comprehend,” since my comprehension is usually not the issue at hand.  No; for me, this is usually an issue not of failing to comprehending the message itself, but of not understanding the “why” of what I comprehend. Why was it written? Why, if it were an account, did it happen? How did another man come to see such things–to parse the meaning of such things–so differently from the way in which I see them? Why did he? Is he aware of this? Is this view genuine or deliberate? Does the writer realise, or does he not, that there is a better/more productive/more positive/more uplifting/more exalting way in which such events or thoughts may be, and perhaps should be, interpreted?

Still, I think it is particularly interesting, the way in which we often follow almost any blog.  I have mentioned in a post or two, as well as in comments, here and there,  that there are a few such blogs I do not follow.  These, in general, are:

  • Those with no comments permitted–quite often not “real” blogs at all. This is whether I may choose to comment or not.
  • To that I would add those who never take comments out of moderation.  I think perhaps, I’d more likely follow a blog with closed comments–providing that the content makes me happy.  This is because the author is wasting the effort of his readers in so doing.  It is perhaps even more disingenuous–or leastwise, strikes me as such.
  • Also any magazine or aggregation site.  And this, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that I just cannot bring myself to do so.
  • Also, awards.  I don’t participate in these on any level, also for a variety of reasons, most of which would bore you to tears, no doubt; but which I have touched upon here and there in the past.

The Last Kiss

I have never been able to understand how such a thing can happen. And I am so very sorry–whenever I hear about it. My sweetheart and I love each other so very much. And we have for the better part of a century. And in many ways, we seem just the same. Love at first sight, and second, and third… I know it is not this way for everyone. I understand it intellectually. I suppose… I suppose I wonder… when it is as you describe, does one have a sense of it beforehand? Is there a peculiar sense… a vague sense of something missing?

I am very much afraid to read more, because I feel from the titles I see, that it may all be too sad for me to bear. Still I follow because… On wordpress, that’s what we do for one another. I’ve thought and written extensively upon it. It spans all ideologies, this support. I follow anyone’s blog–with a couple of caveats. It has to be a real blog, not just a few posts as a device to boost traffic to some other site; and it must not be an aggregation site, or magazine site. I don’t participate in such things, whether involving poetry or not. Nor do I participate in anything having to do with awards of any kind. When I receive them or nominations for them, I politely decline them. But apart from that I follow everyone.

And it can be remarkable how someone with whom I have very little, or perhaps, nothing in common, will spark some curiosity, make me laugh or provoke a thought or two. I normally wouldn’t read a post like this in detali, but something about the title and the photograph caught my eye. I felt it warranted some attention. But I do not think I can read much of this kind of post. When one gets to be my age, one likes to laugh especially, I think. My dearest Mrs. Emeron and I do laugh a great deal. For that reason, I have stopped watching television news, as of a few years ago, I believe. Things do still filter down by osmosis, but I don’t seek them out. My blood pressure is normal–the lowest its been in decades without a bit of pharmaceutical help. Those who know me may credit my state of fitness, which has been increasing regularly with due diligence; but I would credit at least half of that with my lack of interest in current events.

Deliberate Donkey

The last time he kissed me was at the end of our marriage ceremony. You may kiss the bride. April 13, 2007. After over five years, I feel like I’ve never been kissed.

There were no good-night kisses. There were no good-morning kisses. No I-love-you kisses. No passionate kisses. No make-out sessions. And, no, you don’t have to kiss to have sex.

A kiss. The elusive kiss seems now more intimate than any other physical connection between two people.

I longed for his kiss. I noticed he never kissed me. If we could, if he could, if I could, would we find our happily ever after?

The answer is no. There was no love, and without love a kiss is as meaningless as the paper plate holding the meal. Our marriage was a paper plate.

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Furuichi Love Hotel

How very strange and interesting. A colleague of mine is planning to visit Japan for an extended visit. I have heard other very interesting stories regarding how strange a place it is. You write very well in English, for a German in Japan. I see quite a few more American idioms in your writing than British, which is what I used to expect to see–many decades ago–from Germans with a good command of English.

Abandoned Kansai

When Conan was asked “What is best in life?” he answered “To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women.” – I’m pretty sure if the Mongol general would have asked him “What is worst in life?” Conan would have answered “To marry a Japanese woman, see her taking your paycheck, and to hear the lamentation about setting the AC to a ‘freezing’ 28° C in the middle of summer.”

Please forgive this provocative generalization of an introduction, but whenever I stumble across an abandoned love hotel I can’t help but be reminded of how different Japan is in so many ways to my home country Germany. Especially in the relationship department. What I wrote so far and will write in the lines to come is not an analysis of the Japanese society or even just its love life – I’m just describing…

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Today’s pair, and other stories….

This one probably cannot be analysed outside of the context of its accompanying sonnet.  Still it would be a difficult task for anyone but Browning.  Or God.

Oddly though, there are many ways in which these both may be read; and yet, the intended meaning might be more difficult to divine than such as I more usually write.

On another note:  I believe I shall not move sonnets around, except in rare circumstances.  I think it will make things simpler.   If I write sonnets in sequences that are interspersed with others, I can simply link them with a unique tag.  This will make it seem less futile to insert the “next” links.  Which, when I move things around, are rather a chore to fix, because they are not automatically generated.  I suppose that would be the advantage of ftp access, or at least a professional theme.  We shall see.

Some thoughts regarding the nature of belief–(not safe for the narcoleptic)

A very good friend has posted a short answer to today’s entry on Christmas Day, 2012. The sonnet in question as well as its rather unusually long introduction can be found here:

https://davidemeron.com/2012/12/25/

I feel they are too long to include in-line here; However they both deal with the nature of the feelings of one who does not believe in God regarding ones friends and loved ones who do.

In these, I express my feelings regarding how one should consider behaving, and my own such choices as well; and, in response to the following comments by a dear friend, add some further thoughts which I deemed to be a bit long winded for a comment box. And for me, if one has seen the length of my comments, that really is saying something!

Reading the entry linked above will put my post in better context.

I do wish you and yours a blessed Christmas. You and the Gentle Lady are very much in my thoughts.

and

But it’s hard to [pray]. I don’t know if it’s guilt and shame or deadly pride, but the words choke in the throat. It is hard to look into that part of me and see. Maybe I am afraid to.

To which I answer:

And of course, all those sentiments are retuned with as much warmth as we both feel for you. I also think of you often.

and

Still, though I do not believe, I do wish the best for you and for all your loved ones. And, of course, my sweet wife will pray me, and for you, and everyone else she loves.

Happy Christmas, Gentle Mac.

After which I continue on:

I should also say the friend of which I write above, is quite wonderful in that way–just as I describe. And, you have heard much about him and his monumentally powerful brain from my sweetheart so you may easily guess which friend it is to whom I refer.

It is quite remarkable–and I think, not accidental–just how many great mathematicians are men of faith. Particularly those who have done fundamental work in the field, throughout the centuries, even when one includes the 20th and the 21st. One notable exception is Bertrand Russell. And our resident mathematician refers to Mr. Russell in such a way as to indicate that he considers him something of “the exception that proves the rule,” if you will.

Regarding our resident mathematician, one can clearly see that he holds quite a deep and abiding faith. And–as in the accompanying sonnet to this offering–I do feel a great deal of warmth when, at such times whereupon we together dine, we do indeed “say grace.” I should say that at such times, I remain silent, and allow him to speak the words. That seems more appropriate. In general, I would suggest that anyone who does not believe should take such a course unless there is some good reason to the contrary. It makes one feel as though one is not blaspheming–or simply lying, if you prefer.

However, regarding such silent times as I share with my friends or loved ones at grace, I will say an interesting feeling comes over me. I do feel thankful. And humbled in some way. I think upon all the myriad events that led up to the current, most enjoyable evening; and also, do I think upon all the myriad events that might have kept such an evening from happening.

(Regarding the following paragraphs: No, I am not citing here; this is not a Master’s thesis, nor a work intended for peer review; however such information as I will mention is truly a few clicks away on Google, if one cares to look for it.)

As I’m sure I have written, and you have read, before, I feel most certain that there is, deep within some part of our physical brains, a place reserved for such things–matters of faith. And I often warn my atheist friends (not anti-theists, one, by the way) that, in view of even more recent evidence, one must be vigilant if this part of ones brain–so very obviously designed or evolved (or to eschew both words, functions in such a state which enables it) to allow one to believe in such things as those for which there is no evidence–is not now being used for such things.

Things for which it is clearly optimised to do.

Imagine what we might by simple default–by not being vigilant in our thoughts–believe to be true. Such things are much more harmful than a belief in something which some non-believers feel (although I do not, due entirely to the empirical evidence of the difference between the two) to be congruent to a belief in Santa Claus. These, as you well know, as well as seen, from among your idealogical, philosophical, or epistemological opposites, are quite harmful; not merely to the one so afflicted but also to the world around him. Ask yourself what they believe without question as a result of not being vigilant. The answer, and the myriad ways in which it has been deleterious to your life are, one might say, “named legion, for they are many,” to paraphrase a biblical verse, I have oft heard expounded upon.

Yes indeed. When I take the time to contemplate such things, I most definitely prefer a man of faith to one such as I have described above. I will say that such friends as I have among the non-religious are much more like such a man than like such as I have described above. And, what is more important, the reverse is also true; that man of faith, yes, that very one who believes in a God, and a Saviour, the existence of which cannot be proven, is much more like you and I, for example than like the individual profiled in the paragraph above.

Continued here, wherein I stray even farther afield: http://wp.me/p2NgWa-5J