hortus conclusus

A Harvest Moon tonight, the best in 2O years, so they say, and the sky is clouded over here in Ithaca. Damn you, Lady Fortune! I return to you, a changed woman. I have a theory about academic work—that its rhythms of feast and fast, of heavy, intense work and periods of creative drought and no deadlines serve to mask a deeper, horrifying truth: that as you get caught up in the cycle of not much work, then intense work, you don’t realize the periods of rest are getting shorter, that the stakes are getting higher, and that no amount of work will ever be good enough. You don’t notice that you are working harder and harder, becoming a more intense person year by year, slowly turning into that workaholic academic you thought you’d never become. I have always resisted this fate, hoping to remain a well-rounded, grounded person who does not live for her work alone, but somehow the system has gotten to me. How else can I explain this past month of near non-stop work on my dissertation draf...

Why is the moon, symbol of femininity, also a symbol of inconstancy? I understand that both are subject to cyclic change, but why is that often seen as a negative thing in Western culture? Where is the notion of positive power, of wonder at the connectedness of humans and the sky and other parts of nature? This is something that bothers me off and on, and this allegorical image of Inconstancy brings many of these irritations bubbling up to the surface… There’s that damn crustacean again—I mentioned it once before in one of my lunatic posts --that horrific symbol of meaningless cycles of nature, that, according to traditional thought that I find quite compelling, has nothing to do with a good god.The depths-crawling lobster represents the nightmare of the unknown, of the subconscious, and also of the deep unexplored ocean; the things we know exist and don’t want to understand—all brought up by the moon’s powerful force.   Abraham Janssens “Inkonstanz, Allegorie der Unbeständ...

Little Stars is another gorgeous orchid sc ent from this enormously talented perfumer, brand new on the scene. Ellen mentions on her blog that the orchid on which she bases this fragrance is night-blooming—that always a descriptor that intrigues us sensually minded perfume-folk. This one is a heavy, well-made dark spicy citrus floral, with a clove,citrus, and deep woods composition evocative of the most humid, tropical nights. The perfumer's notes suggest this is meant to evoke the nighttime in a steamy jungle, and I can see that. I love the spicy green woodiness of this one—it truly does smell ultra-tropical, and also almost holographically orchid-like. Very impressive composition indeed, with a really natural sense of balance and proportion. The synthetic oud and tea notes blend in seamlessly, opening up the scent experience alongside a delicious sour citrus--the whole top part of the perfume’s composition tends towards a certain soapy tanginess that I think is definitely uni...

well, here we are again—the night of the full moon, the night of my discontent. As usual, I am up at an ungodly hour, musing about this and that, to the great detriment of my students tomorrow morning, who will have to deal with a zombie TA… Ah well, I guess this kind of sleeplessness reminds me I am human, and a little bit nuts. Speaking of madness, I have found one of the best depictions of lunacy—and here, it is as literal as possible—on my new favorite show, “The Mighty Boosh” which is positively surreal, and beyond hilarious. IN each episode, the moon emerges in the sky, only to ramble meanderingly through a series of bizarre non-sequiturs—well, you have to see it to know what I mean, so luckily someone has posted a “Best of the Moon” montage on youtube. There is a long tradition of depicting the man in the moon as a madman , and Noel Fielding’s (my GOD right now, but more on t hat below) latest interpretation is but the latest of these. Perhaps you may remember the clas...

ZUT ALORS! It is time again for a riddling perfume bottle to sing you a little song! Who can it be this time? Kudos to the first to guess correctly: I’m the best of a lot of second rate spinoffs from a first-rate perfume house, I guess that’s the tradeoff when the bee-bottle people must needs pay the bills; they must create potions that give girls sweet chills of delight when they spritz my citrus elixir. They’ll think; it’s like breakfast, or perhaps in a mixer for cocktails, that juice, so sour and so ruby. That’s me indeed; I’m the fruit with the mostest, acidic and pulpy, I please every hostess-- on her skin, in her belly, it is all the same. By now I imagine you have guessed my name. If not, I’ll give you another sweet hint: I come in a bottle with a netting of glints of gold so special you’ll shell out the lucre for me though I’m named for a medieval genre of literature distinctly au passé now. You’ve guessed me, I’m sure, so I’ll take a bow ...

Last night, we had a thunderstorm here like you wouldn’t believe, and because It’s still a full moon, for all intents and purposes, I passed a very sleepless night. The sky cracked with energy and moisture as I lay awake in our hot, hot muggy room, both of us naked with the sheets thrown completely off. Finally, unable to lie alone with my thoughts any longer, I got up and went to the couch to read. I spritzed on some Dzonkha, and the dry smoke/cardamom/incense/and dirt, my cat Oliver, and I all sat down together, waiting for the storm to break….. U2’s song “Electrical Storm” kept spinning through my tired head: The sea is swells like a sore head and the night it is aching Two lovers lie with no sheets on their bed and the day it is breaking On rainy days we go swimming out on rainy days, swimming in the sound On rainy days we go swimming out You're in my mind all of the time I know that's not e...

Asteres me'n a?mfi ka'lan sela'nnan a?^ips a?pykru'ptoisi fa'ennon ei?^dos, o?'ppota plh'ðoisa ma'lista la'mphs a?rguria ga^n. The gleaming stars all about the shining moon Hide their bright faces, when full-orbed and splendid In the sky she floats, flooding the shadowed earth with clear silver light. (Sappho, quoted by Eustathius of Thessalonica in the twelfth century.) Tonight, I, the moon, and Bois des Isles sit silently together, looking out over an illuminated landscape.  Perfect contentm ent and absolute restlessness vie with one another within my mortal frame. Just another sleepless night on the full moon. My husband took a bunch of really cool photos of the full moon from my dissertation advisor’s country home in Danby, New York. As I sit alone, awake, tonight, I think it is quite a nice series. But then, I’m partial. Sleep well, all.     Don’t let the bedbugs bite….. Credits: text from http://www.sacred-texts.com/cla/sa...

Time for my monthly musing on the full moon—I can’t help it, I’m made different by its light shining in my window, inescapable, in ways comforting and maternal, yet also strange, disturbing. All my senses come alive; I am my self, amplified, for better or worse. Over these six years of marriage I have infected my husband, who now suffers the same sea change as I every time that celestial body climbs up in the heaven, redundant, resounding. We huddle together in our bed, listening to each other’s breathing, wondering when, if, how, we will ever achieve sleep. We hearken to the wild night noises outside our windows, the sounds of creatures somehow bigger, invasive. as if they roam the corners of our silver room, lurking and hunting, shrieking and munching.     I smell my skin, scented with the unnatural, or perhaps supe r-natural, human amplifications of flowers, roots, woods, and unnamable sensations with only a pale chemical for a name, the product of alche...

  Well, my love is away, and we have been apart for over a week now, and two days to go. I am lonely but not too; after the conference and the very pleasant but busy visit with my brother and sister-in-law in Detroit, I am happy to have some time alone. Alone that is, but not alone. I have Guerlain’s princess Nahema , a blowsy dark friend who floats around me, whispering in my ear. I have a glass of wine. and I have the moon. And I have my poems, one of which reflects my sentiments tonight exactly. Moon, Flowers, Man I raise my cup and invite The moon to come down from the Sky. I hope she will accept Me. I raise my cup and ask The branches, heavy with flowers, To drink with me. I wish them Long life and promise never To pick them. In company With the moon and the flowers, I get drunk, and none of us Ever worries about good Or bad. How many people Can comprehend our joy? I Have wine and moon and...

  In The Arc Of Your Mallet Don't go anywhere without me. Let nothing happen in the sky apart from me, or on the ground, in this world or that world, without my being in its happening. Vision, see nothing I don't see. Language, say nothing. The way the night knows itself with the moon, be that with me. Be the rose nearest to the thorn that I am. I want to feel myself in you when you taste food, in the arc of your mallet when you work, when you visit friends, when you go up on the roof by yourself at night. There's nothing worse than to walk out along the street without you. I don't know where I'm going. You're the road, and the knower of roads, more than maps, more than love. Translation of Rumi by Coleman Barks I am obsessed with Persia, and have always been, but alas, political tensions ...

Ok, it’s the second day of my monthly lunar insomnia, so here’s my second musing on the link between the moon and perfume. I was thinking about D&G’s recent attempt to offer a niche line with their generally disappointing tarot-inspired fragrances (what is with the naked models as tarot cards anyway?) and their interpretation of the moon tarot card with a rather insipid fruity floral/woody scent, La Lune . Of all things, this is just the wrong fragrance for this mysterious card. Not to get all new-agey on you (I’m not usually) but I have spent some time with the Tarot in my life—I am a medievalist, after all, and the allegory of the Tarot appeals to my sensibilities—and the moon is one of the most powerful and ambiguous cards in the deck. In the Tarot, the moon—the most powerful sign of mutability next to the Wheel of Fortune—has both positive and negative meanings. As you can imagine, it is associated with women, with their monthly cycles, and with their fertility. It ...

It is a full moon today, and I feel myself becoming owly. Question: is there such a thing as a lunar note in perfume. Lately I've seen a lot of frags list solar accord in their notes, which is supposed to smell like the sun on skin, but is there one that captures the clammy, mystical fragrance of the full moon? Arguably, the whole genre of white flowers combined with exotic woods is intended to evoke the feeling of a luminous night of love on the full moon, but these are all very Southerly visions of what a walk in a garden in the moonlight in India or the deep South or Persia might smell like, with night-blooming jasmine, moonflower, lotus, gardenia, camellia, rose, etc. Is there an equivalent 'lunar' scent for, say, an English garden, or more perversely, a winter solstice night in the far North? My dad, who used to be a choral director in a high school, says that he would always notice the kids acting strangely at certain times of the month. There would be more fi...

Well, I've come through one long, rainy day on a night of a full moon with no major attitude problems; there's no way to prove it, but it could very well be the calming, misty, divine influence of the Bois Des Iles. My husband also seemed quite attracted to me today, although he claimed not to smell anything special on my skin. Perhaps it was just me knowing how special I smelled to myself.... Now all I have to do is get to sleep--I wonder if a spritz or two of L'Occitane's discontinued Lavande would send me off to The Land of Nod.