Richard III: philosophically speaking [warning: written late at night while traveling]

 

Echinocereus 'Panayoti'

A friend posted about this past winter (on Facebook) that "Despite an extraordinarily cruel winter and the highest death toll in my time cultivating, my surviving beauties are most stunning. It begins! Happy Solstice!" (quote from Theresa Mercado)

This "Winter of our discontent" brought to mind a movie I viewed on the plane between Munich and New Delhi: The Lost King based on a fantastic mission [based on "real" facts as opposed to unreal ones apparently] of an "ordinary woman" inspired to find the buried remains of Richard III.

Click on the title above and get a preview if you'd like. It was a good movie if, perhaps, not a great one--and historically (and epistemologically) significant on many levels:

1 The discovery and capacity to verify the identity of buried bones of a famous monarch is pretty incredible: I remember reading about it when it was fresh news. Great to get the back story. For me the story AND back story are both pretty compelling.

2  The vivid depiction of Ricardians and their quest for retribution is a revelation: the movie brings the phenomenon of history hobbyists to vivid life. And I thought I had strange hobbies!

3  The pathos of a failed marriage propped up by necessity is convincingly conveyed by the principal actors and their putative children. Been there, done that.

4  The shameful sycophancy, pious self-serving dishonesty of Universities {and large institutions in general} is brilliantly depicted. The University of Leicester to be precise. If indeed the content of the movie is anywhere nearly correct (and it probably is) the movie should be required viewing by all their prospective students and their board of directors should be made to view it monthly. Sorry: here we're veering into Ethics.

5 The complex interplay of personalities--the frail but determined woman played by Sally Hawkins who nevertheless sways the Leicester Town Council to permit the excavation--and her telling relationships to a host of people--all very intriguing, ringing true. Underscoring that all we achieve and ultimately consist of in our lives is the interplay of personality. Try that on for size! But here we veer into eschatology.

Since probably not one in ten who might read this post (and I count you) will have looked it up I'll make it easy for you: Epistemology is:

the theory of knowledge, especially with regard to its methods, validity, and scope, and the distinction between justified belief and opinion.

I am not a philosopher (although I have a dear cousin who is a practicing philosopher). I find the realm of epistemology infinitely more stimulating, exciting and interesting than 99% of the crap that was offered for viewing on the various airlines I flew the last month or so: the amount of creepy violence, specious drama, and spectacularly colorful garbage that the ordinary human seems to enjoy watching in movies, say, is unfathomable to me.

I interrupt at 2:00am early Wednesday morning my exciting adventure and first day in India en route to Sikkim to bring you this bracing share. The monsoonal rain is quite loud outside our sturdy, very British style hotel: I can even hear it despite Henry Purcell's complete chamber music playing in my ear buds.

The interplay of episteme with the decorative flourish of the aesthetic senses creates a quiddity of experience that is the touchstone of my daily life. It is the mechanism that fuels my constant sense of wonder and delight and keeps me motivated. Anyone who actually reads this message will now understand my underpinnings!

I doubt Richard III was the evil monster that Shakespeare so brilliantly depicts. He certainly wasn't the sweetiepie the movie implies. How odd that half a millennium after his passing the whole debate rages on!

The cactus featured above bloomed better than ever this glorious summer after the winter from hell. It was named for me by Hans Graf (whom I've featured several times in this blog). It is no longer sold commercially: it is an example of horticultural quiddity. And has its own epistemological history!

Let's end with the Duke of Gloucester's resounding lines:

"Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried."

Happy Solstice indeed.