It's clear and unanimous; the most overused word of the year has got to be...panacea. This term has been bandied about in practically every media forum around, especially in recent months as most discussions in the public forum eventually lead to futile arguments over energy policy. Here is an offering of alternatives to that frankly played-out, antiquated, and progressively stale term so popularized today:
What's the best remedy for our energy ills?
Judging by the cost of that ear, do you still think corn ethanol is the cure-all for our oil addiction?
Do you know of a good medicament for herpes?
Why not offer up a catholicon to save us from a fatal, collective third-degree burn?
Does "Drill, baby, drill!" sound like the magic bullet for the global warming dilemma?
The GOP naively suggests a nepenthe to soothe the pain of our fossil-fueled woes.
Clean coal technologies and offshore drilling merely represent a nostrum to our energy crisis.
A certain few of these options could be the panacea to the problem of the word panacea's frequency in the media as of late. Although, it would be only slightly less surprising for armageddon to ensue than it would be for the talking heads to consult a thesaurus once in a harvest moon.
9.9.08
8.9.08
Another Title Rotation...
Still more titles for this blog have come and gone. In case you missed them, they're summarized here for your Latin learning pleasure.
"nolens volens" - this one is the Latin root of the common phrase 'willy nilly', stemming from the Old English phrase 'wil-he, nil-he' meaning 'will he or will he not'. I liked the sound of it and it fit my then state of apathetic indecision.
"talis qualis" - the continuation of the rhyming latin is purely coincindental, however nicely it rings! I like this one for its simplicity; it means only 'as such' or 'just as it is', which for me stands to describe the content I've gathered here. There's no pretense and I'm not speaking as an authority...so this is it.
"respice, adspice, prospice" - no, nothing to do with spices here. It means 'to look back, look to the present, and to the future'. Maybe the reader should read old posts and look forward to new ones. Also, it's a cue for me to be more contemplative and conscious of this life's path. Possibly, I just need to get some Mexican food soon!
More name changes to come...
"nolens volens" - this one is the Latin root of the common phrase 'willy nilly', stemming from the Old English phrase 'wil-he, nil-he' meaning 'will he or will he not'. I liked the sound of it and it fit my then state of apathetic indecision.
"talis qualis" - the continuation of the rhyming latin is purely coincindental, however nicely it rings! I like this one for its simplicity; it means only 'as such' or 'just as it is', which for me stands to describe the content I've gathered here. There's no pretense and I'm not speaking as an authority...so this is it.
"respice, adspice, prospice" - no, nothing to do with spices here. It means 'to look back, look to the present, and to the future'. Maybe the reader should read old posts and look forward to new ones. Also, it's a cue for me to be more contemplative and conscious of this life's path. Possibly, I just need to get some Mexican food soon!
More name changes to come...
Musical Titles...
Again, the need for clarification arises as the name of this blog continues to change. I realize, admittedly, that the constant moniker juggling probably makes it tough for searchers to find the site by name, although the url remains the same. No matter - the changes are meant to keep my approach fresh, even as my gripes may become stale. To begin the next round:
'sol omnia regit' - this is meant to remind me and the curious reader that the sun rules over us all. Life continues even in the face of struggle and suffering. The world breathes even if its lungs sting and wither. Even this blog whimpers and drags itself on...fortunately vel non ;)
Swimming at the Airport...
This Labor Day, I spent some precious moments immersed in the immense reservoir that is Lake Lanier. While submerged, I enjoyed the company of the previously introduced canine, Tallulah, who becomes more at ease in the water with every visit, provided sticks and tennis balls abound. The only drawback during this lovely, if brief, excursion into Lanier's shallow bathwater was, well, the rest of the world.
From our vantage point on an island (these days more a drought-borne peninsula), Tallulah and I floated, treaded, and dog-paddled for a short while until it seemed we were totally surrounded by humanity, each being executing his or her willful right to relaxation. The irony of the scene was that very relaxation that all sought simultaneously was what was keeping me and countless others from achieving any real serenity. Mindfulness surely would have served me well at that moment but for my inexperience with 'wet zazen', or zazen of any sort.
The people seemed to come from almost all directions by water. First, the mosquito-like buzz-bys of personal watercraft, the Sea-doo jetski, made their aural assaults. The crafts' operators, ranging from middle-aged and pot-bellied to pre-pubescent and thoughtless, were clearly oblivious of others in the lake or on its shores. Even hugging the cracked and dried shoreline, Tallulah and I were whipped by the jetskis' roiling wakes, testing my patience for Southern boaters, rattling the doggy's fragile aqua-confidence.
The auditory barrage continued throughout our swim, at times rising to a multi-octave cacophony of inboard cigarette boat rumblings, pontoon boat whirrs, and partybarges zooming sluggishly on the now turbulent lake. Skiers and wakeboarders sliced through the green water and red clay murk, led by Mastercrafts and rust buckets alike. Any calm, any inclining of peace was engulfed on all sides by an obnoxious echoing of wakes, the fumes of the carbon-burning-maniacs, the day off, drunken hollers of all who dedicated themselves to recreation on that holiday. Bobbing there, keeping on the surface to stay visible, I felt like a duck might, one who'd found its way to a cooling puddle centered in a vast empty concrete field, threatened with every webbed kick by the aluminum giants taking flight all around.
Regardless of class, race, creed, or social standing, those on the lake that day must have at least noticed the extent to which our 'good times' were affecting the environment around us. So, by the end of the weekend, the lake and all its struggling native creatures had the chance to drink in the rainbow oil slicks and litter strewn all about, gifts from its patrons on that very free day in the heart of a very free land. It is fitting though that a man-made, fingery "lake" such as Lanier should be so ecologically tortured by the very same folks who drink it up, feed their lawns, and wash their clothes and bodies with it daily. Even in times of scarcity, it is remote to think that we might cherish the natural elements. Instead, we manipulate the Earth's forms, turn valleys into lakebeds, and proceed to rape the rains of better years with machines made for the pleasure of men who behave more like parasites.
Still, with all the distractions, the dip was a cooling one and I can now say that the time spent was well-spent. Tallulah would agree that the trip was worthwhile, hot as it was that day, although she'd prefer a more placid scenario in which to master her paddling technique.
From our vantage point on an island (these days more a drought-borne peninsula), Tallulah and I floated, treaded, and dog-paddled for a short while until it seemed we were totally surrounded by humanity, each being executing his or her willful right to relaxation. The irony of the scene was that very relaxation that all sought simultaneously was what was keeping me and countless others from achieving any real serenity. Mindfulness surely would have served me well at that moment but for my inexperience with 'wet zazen', or zazen of any sort.
The people seemed to come from almost all directions by water. First, the mosquito-like buzz-bys of personal watercraft, the Sea-doo jetski, made their aural assaults. The crafts' operators, ranging from middle-aged and pot-bellied to pre-pubescent and thoughtless, were clearly oblivious of others in the lake or on its shores. Even hugging the cracked and dried shoreline, Tallulah and I were whipped by the jetskis' roiling wakes, testing my patience for Southern boaters, rattling the doggy's fragile aqua-confidence.
The auditory barrage continued throughout our swim, at times rising to a multi-octave cacophony of inboard cigarette boat rumblings, pontoon boat whirrs, and partybarges zooming sluggishly on the now turbulent lake. Skiers and wakeboarders sliced through the green water and red clay murk, led by Mastercrafts and rust buckets alike. Any calm, any inclining of peace was engulfed on all sides by an obnoxious echoing of wakes, the fumes of the carbon-burning-maniacs, the day off, drunken hollers of all who dedicated themselves to recreation on that holiday. Bobbing there, keeping on the surface to stay visible, I felt like a duck might, one who'd found its way to a cooling puddle centered in a vast empty concrete field, threatened with every webbed kick by the aluminum giants taking flight all around.
Regardless of class, race, creed, or social standing, those on the lake that day must have at least noticed the extent to which our 'good times' were affecting the environment around us. So, by the end of the weekend, the lake and all its struggling native creatures had the chance to drink in the rainbow oil slicks and litter strewn all about, gifts from its patrons on that very free day in the heart of a very free land. It is fitting though that a man-made, fingery "lake" such as Lanier should be so ecologically tortured by the very same folks who drink it up, feed their lawns, and wash their clothes and bodies with it daily. Even in times of scarcity, it is remote to think that we might cherish the natural elements. Instead, we manipulate the Earth's forms, turn valleys into lakebeds, and proceed to rape the rains of better years with machines made for the pleasure of men who behave more like parasites.
Still, with all the distractions, the dip was a cooling one and I can now say that the time spent was well-spent. Tallulah would agree that the trip was worthwhile, hot as it was that day, although she'd prefer a more placid scenario in which to master her paddling technique.
The Energy Ball
Despite its overly clever name, the science behind this renewable energy technology seems remarkably promising. It would be brilliant to see these sprouting from the roofs and chimneys of every dwelling on the block. The following link provides info on this breakthrough wind turbine highlighting its electrical productivity even in low wind areas. http://www.home-energy.com/engels/ebv100.htm
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