Sunday, April 18, 2010

+/-Nemesis

For those who believe in historical Nemesis, the past week has been a bag as mixed as it gets.

First polish President Lech Kaczynski accompanied by a delegation of 95 preeminent Polish notables dies in a plane crash on his way to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the Katyn massacre. This is the antithesis of Nemesis: the smiting of the survivors, grief on grief.
And the sudden glory of Mr. Kaczynski can be regarded as a reaction to this baffling event as well as the latest anifestation of the Polish urge to memorialize Katyn
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/16/opinion/16osiatynski.html


A few days later, the theretofore nearly unknown Eyjafjallajökull (I myself hiked to the nearby Skogafoss last July, blissfully ignorant of the threat
to be ...), a minor volcano, re-erupts, this time spewing millions of tons of micro-silica in the lower stratosphere. Such ashes would not have resulted had the eruption not been sub-glacial. Unusually south-easterly winds blow the cloud primarily toward the UK, the Netherlands and Denmark.
Now, you may recall these are the countries that browbeat Iceland for the excesses of the three infamous banks Glitnir, Landsbanki and Kaupthing
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2008%E2%80%932010_Icelandic_financial_crisis.
The plaintiffs' main demand was that holders of Icesave accounts be made whole regardless of the consequences for the future of the population of Iceland, an international case of making losses public.


Now, mother nature was taking it upon herself to exact revenge of behalf of Icelanders by grounding Northern European air traffic (unfortunately third parties are suffering too).


As it happens, the latter event affected the former when many world leaders canceled their plans to attend Mr. Kaczynski's funeral because of the dangers volcanic ashes are posing to air transportation.


Sometimes I wonder how "stranger than fiction" is a cliché.
On the other hand, would I be even noticing this if I did not have a propensity to see and search meaning in the otherwise ruthless absurdity of Becoming?
Such propensity to make sense, I am quite convinced, is a firm fiber of human nature, and meaning itself is often seen as moral, while the absence of it is the source of grief. (Note my "ruthless absurdity".)
But if you manage to abstract yourself from the unfolding of history ....

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