The myth of Ixion


As I can remember, and learning Greek Mythology by Al (he was my teacher in every stuff), Prometheus was the one who got the punishment by being hanged on the mountain Caucasus, because of bringing fire to human, and his liver being eaten by an eagle.

The ancient Greek myth of Titan Prometheus and his punishment for deceiving Zeus and protecting mankind is known to most members of the scientific community who study hepatic diseases!!, Mainly because Prometheus’ liver was the target of torture. However, the myth of Prometheus is known and cherished by many, because, according to one version, Prometheus created the first man. The ancient poet Hesiod (8th century BC)  records that Prometheus twice tricked the gods. First, he offered mortals the best meat from a slaughtered cow and gave the fat and bones to the gods. Then, when an infuriated Zeus punished man by taking fire, Prometheus stole it back for mankind. Accordingly, Zeus punished him in two ways. First, Prometheus was bound on the mountain Caucasus. More explicitly, for students of the liver, an eagle fed from his liver each day, but the liver regenerated overnight. Secondly, Zeus sent Pandora to the world where she released all hitherto unknown evils to humans.

And after I saw the name Ixion in this post down there, I have searched for it because I haven’t heard of his name: Ixion.
But there was another name which I never heard as well: Tityus. Who was the son of Elara; his father was Zeus. Zeus hid Elara from his wife, Hera, by placing her deep beneath the earth. Tityos grew so large that he split his mother’s womb, and he was carried to term by Gaia, the Earth. Once grown, Tityos attempted to rape Leto at the behest of Hera. He was slain by Leto’s protective children Artemis and Apollo. As punishment, he was stretched out in Tartarus and tortured by two vultures who fed on his liver, which grew back every night. This punishment is comparable to that of the Titan Prometheus.

While Prometheus is well recognised, less is known about another figure in legends who received the same punishment and whose myth could also be used by modern hepatologists as an ancient example of the phenomenon of liver regeneration. According to Greek mythology, Tityus (Τιτυóς or Τιτυ´ας in Greek), son of Zeus and Elara, was a gigantic chthonic being, living in Phocis and Euboea. When Elara became pregnant by Zeus, he hid her deep in the earth so that his wife Hera would not learn of this. There Elara gave birth to Tityus, who was nursed by Gaia (goddess of earth) and grew to enormous proportions. Tityus was so large that his body was said to cover nine acres. In another version of the myth, Tityus was gigantic even as a fetus and, because he ruptured his mother’s womb, he had to be carried to term by Gaia herself; most likely making her the first surrogate mother in human “myth-history”. When Tityus grew up he made the mistake of assaulting goddess Leto, mother of Apollo, the god of light, and of Artemis, Goddess of hunting. Specifically, when Leto was traveling from Panopeus in Phocis on her way to Delphi, Tityus attempted to rape her, possibly encouraged by Hera. Leto cried out to her children who immediately came to her rescue and tried to kill the giant with their arrows. Tityus, however, was immortal but could be punished by Zeus who had him bound in Hades, the ancient kingdom of the Dead, where two vultures were fed on his liver which, as in the Prometheus legend, regenerated perpetuating the torture eternally. More here

Ixion in Hades geworfen, 1876
(Ixion Thrown into Hades, 1876 )
Jules Elie Delaunay

Now, as the punishments all belong to the human’s life, we can understand it well, but let’s learn thereabout a little more by Greek Mythology, what else. I would say!

Punishment of Ixion.
Fresco of the Fourth style. 60—79 CE.
Pompeii, Archaeological Park, House of the Vettii (VI. 15. 1. p)
(Pompei, Parco Archeologico, Casa dei Vettii (VI. 15. 1. p)).

Ixion was the son of Ares, or Leonteus, or Antion and Perimele, or the notorious evildoer Phlegyas, whose name connotes “fiery”.Peirithoös was his son (or stepson, if Zeus were his father, as Zeus claims to Hera in Iliad 14). Wikipedia

Now, as the punishments all belong to the human’s life, we can understand it well, but let’s learn thereabout a little more by Greek Mythology, what else. I would say! With, as always, a great thank, to http://SearchingTheMeaningOfLife

By SearchingTheMeaningOfLife

In Greek mythology, Ixion (Ixionas) was one of the Lapiths, king of Thessaly (probably based in Iolkos) and son of Flegias. His son was Peirithus. He married Zeus, daughter of Dionysus or Dionas, son of Aeolus, king of Phocis. He promised his father-in-law a valuable gift, but he broke his promise. In retaliation, Dionysus stole some of Ixion’s horses. The latter hid his anger and invited his father-in-law to a festive dinner in Larissa.

As soon as Dionysus arrived, Ixion killed him, pushing him into the fire. Ixion violated the sanctity law of hospitality for the Greeks with this horrible act, whose patron was Xenios Zeus. Neighbouring lords, offended, refused to offer him asylum or perform rituals that would allow him to be cleared of his guilt. Since then, Ixionas was outlawed, lived as waste and was avoided by everyone. By killing his father-in-law, he became the first person in Greek mythology to kill a relative. The punishment that followed was terrible.

Once, Ixionas, to escape from his persecutors, took refuge in a temple of Zeus. He took pity on Ixion for the situation and brought him to Olympus with him.

So! Ixionas, from one moment to the next, was among the 12 Gods of Olympus who received immortality by eating their divine food, ambrosia, and drinking nectar and lived among them. He soon began to desire Hera, the queen of the other gods and the protector of marriage. At first, Hera tried to repel him discreetly, but soon the aspirations of Ixion became apparent to the other Gods, even to Zeus. For this reason, he called to him a nymph of heaven, Nefeli, and gave her the form of Hera. So, Ixion, falling into this delusion, united with Nefeli and from this union, the first Centaur was born. However, outraged by the filth and disrespect shown to him by Ixion, Zeus inflicted a terrible eternal torment on him, since he too could not die after he had become immortal.

Ixionas was struck by lightning and expelled from Olympus. Jupiter ordered Mercury to tie Ixion to a wheel. Thus bound, Ixion wanders eternally in Tartarus.

The instrument of Ixion’s punishment, the wheel, is rarely described. According to the Commentator on the “Phoenicians” of Euripides (1185), the wheel consisted of flaming rays. Apollonius of Rhodes (3,62) states that Ixion was held in the wheel by bronze shackles, and according to Virgil (Agricultural 3, 38 and Myth. Vat. I 14, II 106) by snakes. Also again according to Virgil (Agricultural 4, 484), the wheel with Ixion was chased by two snakes. Concerning perhaps the first crime: as the punishment for harassing Hera, was the perpetual moving wheel.

source: /

Rocketman, The Movie


I watched this movie a couple of days ago. I had recorded it over a month ago on my recorder but didn’t have time to watch it, and I wondered why this one has not got to the top, like Bohemian Rhapsody?

They are both great made movies about two great musicians and geniuses. The Rocketman might look different. It is just because of two totally different individual persons. But they have the same goal: to create their genius arts and make their dreams come true. (And fight for being free in their ways.)

The answer to my question might be that the audience prefers a tragic death legend for its heroes. Elton John is still alive. Or it might because of Covidvirus and the lockdown of all cinemas. The Rocketman could not run on screen? Anyway, I found this movie a masterwork.

When I watched this movie, it reminded me of a time in my youth when I was relaxed, happy (hippie) and full of wishes. first, I’d like to tell you about those days:

I already got to know Elton John in the early 70s through his first album: Your Song. It was one of these cold winter nights in Tehran when Al and I were at a friend (Bijan) in his basement room. We were there often to talk about the arts and listen to music, and smoke a Joint. In that very night, he surprised us with a newcomer: Elton John. We’d listen to it and were elated. Bijan told us that this LP had got a lot of critical opinions and somehow negative. Some would say that it is too slow or even monotonous. Actually, in this LP is no song to dance to (only chick-to-chick!) I mean, the songs in this collection are soft and poetic with beautiful melodies. One of the best ever.

One of the songs in this album had hit my heart. So intense that I recorded it completely in my brain. I could sing it from beginning into the end without any failure. And not only this, I could copy the voice of Elton one to one. Al meant that: if somebody would not see me singing, could think that it is him, Elton John!

Well, it might be exaggerated a little, but everywhere I had performed my show, all have confirmed that. Although I know I have not a beautiful voice. I have just two talents: I can keep the tone in tune and imitate the voice of the others. (Not only the voices but also I could imitate my lovely actors, like Charlie Chaplin, on the stage, though these all have gone with the wind!)

Anyway, this song called “Sixty Years On”, a beautiful song which, as I go through the second half of my sixties, still sounds in my ears.

“Sixty Years On”

Who’ll walk me down to church when I’m sixty years of age
When the ragged dog they gave me has been ten years in the grave
And senorita play guitar, play it just for you
My rosary has broken and my beads have all slipped through

You’ve hung up your great coat and you’ve laid down your gun
You know the war you fought in wasn’t too much fun
And the future you’re giving me holds nothing for a gun
I’ve no wish to be living sixty years on

Yes I’ll sit with you and talk let your eyes relive again
I know my vintage prayers would be very much the same
And Magdelena plays the organ, plays it just for you
Your choral lamp that burns so low when you are passing through

And the future you’re giving me holds nothing for a gun
I’ve no wish to be living sixty years on

And of course, let’s listen to the unforgettable main title song: “Your Song”.

“Your Song”
(“Elton John” Version)

It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I’m not one of those who can easily hide
I don’t have much money, but boy if I did
I’d buy a big house where we both could live

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do
My gift is my song, and this one’s for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well, a few of the verses, well, they’ve got me quite cross
But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song
It’s for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do
You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you’re in the world

Now, back to what I wanted to introduce you: Rocketman, the movie. You might already have watched it, but I’d like to tell them who didn’t watch it yet; it is highly recommended.

Rocketman is a 2019 biographical musical film based on the life and music of British musician Elton John. Directed by Dexter Fletcher and written by Lee Hall, it stars Taron Egerton as John, with Jamie Bell as Bernie Taupin, Richard Madden as John Reid, and Bryce Dallas Howard as Sheila Eileen, John’s mother. via Wikipedia .

Taron Egerton does his job so well that when Elton John saw the movie, he was heartily very touched.


Elton John is a great musician, singer and pianist. You will surely enjoy it.

And at the end, one of my favourites. He, Elton John, has opened up on his friendship with Beatles icon John Lennon, describing their relationship as a “whirlwind romance”. The music legends met in the 70s and hit it off, becoming firm friends before John’s tragic death in 1980. That’s why he may here use a Grand White Piano, just as John Lennon had played his “Imagine”.

Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

Elton John

Sorry seems to be the hardest word What I got to do to make you love me?
What I got to do to make you care?
What do I do when lightning strikes me?
And I wake to find that you’re not there?What I got to do to make you want me?
What I got to do to be heard?
What do I say when it’s all over babe?
Sorry seems to be the hardest wordIt’s sad, so sad
It’s a sad, sad situation
And it’s getting more and more absurd
It’s sad, so sad
Why can’t we talk it over?
Oh, it seems to me
That sorry seems to be the hardest wordWhat do I do to make you want me?
What I got to do to be heard?
What do I say when it’s all over?
Sorry seems to be the hardest wordIt’s sad, so sad
It’s a sad, sad situation
And it’s getting more and…

Source: Musixmatch



The Time of Limbo!

I had stopped there where we came out of the building of the airport. To have a check please click here. I don’t know if you have ever had such of impression; belonging nowhere, yes, we were two nowhere man! We had a feeling we’d fallen into Limbo, no idea what would or ever could do. We had given away, and donated all we had, and got ready to leave Iran. Our books which were not a few; were spread among friends and family. Of course, we had actually no certain plan for the future. We knew that we would not back, at least for a long time. The first thought was to rescue our life, but now: what is next?

Al was a little more relaxed than me. He was more optimistic that it might get better, and he’d continue working as a writer, and he was about, may the regime would leave us alone to do our works. I understood him well. His style in Persian literature was extraordinary. It was a complete heritage from our father. What a pity he couldn’t do his genius works. But I wasn’t! I could still feel the pain in my ribs through an everyday getting beaten in the jail, but it was not important at all. I was more often in the society between people and knew this folk needed a long time to practice democracy. I knew that we are still free because of our father fame as a writer, (He has translated many Islamic histories from Arabic to Persian and wrote a lot of stories in his sophistical way).

When I got free from jail, one of the guards in the office took me by the side and told me that I was lucky to get free because the chairman there knew my father well and was a fan of him. But he advised me that there were not so many like this chairman. Therefore, it’s better I’d not appear here again! Yes, we had not to miss this little chance. Time ran fast, and we had to act faster.

We got a taxi and drove to our close friends, a couple whom I knew from the time when I was playing in the theatre. They were a nice pair and trustful friends. They were shocked, first when they saw we’re standing at the door. We had told them what happened and they tried to solace us. But I had to act immediately: first, to surprise my uncle and ask him to try to get us another exit permission.

Then, there was another problem, a big one; to get a new ticket to Germany. That couldn’t be so easy as I knew it. Because many peoples spiring to get out of Iran those days, and all needed a long time reservation to have a flight. Anyhow, I had to try it. After talking to my Uncle, I drove to the flight agency and told the woman behind the pane all the true story. She looked at me with her beautiful eyes, not in the way: what a crazy guy, but with a full understanding. “Here are two free sits for you, in about ten days, that is all I can do”, she said; and wished me good luck! I’ve felt somehow relieved and got back to our friends to tell Al and others about the happening.

I have also phoned my uncle to ask him about the permission. I knew he’d do his best, and he did it as well; he had found another connection which was a more reliable one this time, and he’d also suggested to me it might better to take my guitar with me.

That was an idea which I had once before our first try, to take my guitar, an old acoustic guitar, with me. Of course, for such an action, I needed permission too. In the rule of the Islamic Republic, the one who wants to take any musical instrument within any travel, he/she, had to prove the ability to play it! I passed the test and had a permit, but at that time, I renounced this idea because I was very nervous and didn’t want to be conspicuous. This time, my uncle thought that it might give me some gentle opinion by the transit police. A musician isn’t dangerous! I agreed and took my guitar with me. Anyway, we didn’t have any luggage with us, and it was not a bad idea, I could make some money in the earlier time in Germany.

Women’s day celebration in 87, I suppose. I sing Lennon’s Song: Woman.

I took my uncle’s suggestion by heart, I bought an old Guitar case from a friend and after making an appointment with the Travels Administration, I, accompanied by my cousin, (the oldes Son of my dear uncle), went there to get the new permits for our travel.

These ten days were an unforgettable time-lapse in my life. Al was cooler and enjoyed this as I was getting all things together. Our friends had helped us a lot to spend the time easier and finally, the time had come for the next try.

My cousin drove us to the airport, where we did not need check-in (no luggage!) and went directly to the gates. Those days were not such an advanced technique for body-checking like it is now. Therefore, every passenger one by one, had to pass through a small room for being examined by the transit police. We were still not sure, that with all papers and permits, if they’d allow me to keep my guitar. Therefore, we decided that I go first through the Gate, and if they reject my guitar, Al can give it back to my cousin. Oh yes, exciting and uncertain!

I have entered the room. There were two young men, just over twenty years old. I had to take off my jacket and empty my pockets. After that, one of them opened the guitar case, said; Wow! Do you play guitars? He took out the guitar and asked me to play a little! I took that from his hand and played some accords. He said to his colleague; look here, the good people going away from Iran, we are losing our artists, and turned to me saying; you will not come back, I know for sure! My heart was pumping crazily. I knew they were playing a dirty game, to make a fool of me that I might say something inappropriate. But I gathered my senses together and said what? Of course, I’d come back again. Why shouldn’t I? I would miss you guys!!


Puh! They let me gather my things and get through. Now I had to wait for Al to pass through, and he was faster out than I expected, but with some pale face, I wonder why? He just said; Fu…! He then told me that our cousin was restlessly asking him; has Aladin got it through? At this moment there was police near them and asked them at once; what the hell have you got through? They were shocked, of course, Al continued; and told the police it’s all about a guitar, but he didn’t want to believe it and said that he’d come after us and find out what we had smuggled! That was really Fu…!

Anyway, we walked through the corridors, got upstairs into the aeroplane, and sat in our place, only hoping no more new troubles. I think that my heart, as well Al’s, had never beaten so fast as in these minutes. We didn’t speak a word until the pilot, with his wonderful voice, said hello to us all and wished us a good flight, and we took off.

That was a story of an Escape from so-called freedom into real freedom? (I had to add this question mark because I am a little desperate right now!) And I hope it wasn’t so boring for you. Thank you for your all supports. 🙏💖🤗🙏💖

An openwork plaque representing the god Hâpy


Hâpy or Hapi, in ancient Egyptian religion, the personification of the annual inundation of the Nile River. He was the most important among numerous personifications of aspects of natural fertility, and his dominance increased during Egyptian history. He let the Nile river flood so the land was fertile and crops could grow. He was a popular god throughout ancient Egypt. He was worshipped more than the sun god Ra. Without Hapi ancient Egypt would have perished.

Here is a brilliant description by Marie Grillot ,of the enigmatic story of this divine openwork plaque. 🙏💖

Une plaque ajourée représentant le dieu Hâpy


Openwork plaque representing the god Hâpy – bronze – XXVth – XXVIth dynasty
Exhibited at the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore (Maryland) – museum photo
Probable “ancient” origin: Memphis (Mit Rahineh)

This openwork plaque, in bronze, is 18 cm high, 10.2 cm wide and has a thickness of 0.7 cm. It represents Hâpy, the god of the flooding of the Nile.

He is standing in the conventional attitude, left leg slightly forward, bare feet resting on a mat of plaited rushes.

He wears a three-part wig that leaves the ear visible and is surmounted by a tuft of aquatic plants.

His eyes are stretched out. He wears a curled false beard, an ousekh collar, and humerus and wrist bracelets. He is naked: “except the strip of material which he always wears, tied under the belly and falling over the front” in three sections …

With his right arm, he supports a tray of woven rushes on which stand two elegant ewers with conical plugs, while, from his forearm, hang three open lotus stems and two in the bud.

They reach the level of the feathers and the solar disk, which surmount a cartridge that cannot “speak” since the names have been erased.

“Usual” representation of the god Nil Hâpy

The main features of this representation are characteristic of the iconography specific to the god Hâpy. As Isabelle Franco specifies in her “Dictionary of Egyptian Mythology”: “Personifying the flood and the benefits it brings, Hâpy is represented as a man of androgynous forms, only wearing the boatmen’s belt. His female breast is the sign of the fertility that it brings and its blue flesh expresses its links with the aquatic environment … Carrying an offering table loaded with various foods expresses the fertility that provides to men and gods “.

The flooding of the Nile, which the wealth of the country’s land depended on and beyond the survival of the inhabitants, was scrutinized, with attention mixed with fear and hope. Thus, during Akhet, the season of the flood (from mid-July to mid-November), the waters had to reach the “ideal” height, generally fixed at seven cubits.

As Jean-Pierre Corteggiani explains so well: “The concern to know each year whether the ‘coming of Hâpy’ would be favourable explains why we have, since the 1st dynasty, measured and recorded the height of each flood … So that this is the case, we did not fail to make the necessary offerings and sacrifices, to recite the appropriate prayers, or to throw in the Nile female statuettes intended to arouse the rut of Hâpy … Hâpy is both the personification of the phenomenon of the flood, the water itself, and the god who controls the flow “.

Openwork plaque representing the god Hâpy – bronze – XXVth – XXVIth dynastyExhibited at the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore (Maryland) – museum photo Probable “ancient” origin: Memphis (Mit Rahineh)

This plaque, dated to the Third Intermediate Period (747-525 BC), was, as explained by “The Walters art museum” in Baltimore (Maryland) where it is exhibited (54.2135): “a decorative element which could have covered the door or the lower part of a wooden sanctuary “.

As for its provenance, it is indicated by Henry Walters. Though it was acquired, before 1931, by Joseph Brummer, an American art seller of Hungarian origin, but does not specify its “antique” origin.

When it was loaned to the Jacquemart-André Museum in Paris, as part of the 2012 exhibition “The twilight of the pharaohs”, Laurent Coulon was responsible for writing the presentation notice … It is rich in information …

Other examples of perforated plates published in
“Some vestiges of religious furniture attributable to the Osirian buildings of the divine Theban worshipers
The bronze plaques found in Memphis by Daninos “, Laurent Coulon, Egypt. Africa & Orient 56, 2009

“Like a large number of openwork plaques of this type preserved in museums around the world, this one is evidently the result of a find made by Albert Daninos, in 1900-1901, to the east of the palace of Apries de Mit Rahineh (Memphis). The excavator says that ‘all the bronzes were jumbled together, in a small space, in the middle of an uninteresting mud-brick construction, two meters deep.’ The lot also included openwork plaques, mirrors, aegis and counterweights of menat and hieroglyphics in bronze. Georges Daressy, who published the part which was transferred to the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, noted that the representations and inscriptions were related with the Theban cult and that the most recent cartouche was that of Amasis, who reigned at the end of Dynasty XXVI. He, therefore, assumed that the whole constituted part of the booty of the Persian soldiers who had sacked and looted Thebes during the reign of Cambyses, at the beginning of Persian domination, this lot having been subsequently ceded to a bronze craftsman from Memphis. This scenario is plausible but unverifiable. At the very least, there is no doubt about the Theban origin of the furniture “…

And he adds: “On these objects, the cartridges bearing royal names were carefully levelled, which for the XXV and XXVI dynasties, leaves open a wide range of possibilities as to the identity of the pharaoh victim of such damnation of memory. “

Marie Grillot


The Nile God Hapy

Dictionary of Egyptian Mythology, Isabelle Franco, 2013

Ancient Egypt and its gods, Jean-Pierre Corteggiani, 2007

The twilight of the pharaohs, Jacquemart-André Museum, Institut de France, 2012

Some remains of religious furniture attributable to the Osirian buildings of the divine Theban worshipers: the bronze plaques found in Memphis by Daninos, Laurent Coulon, Egypt. Africa & East 56, 2009, p. 53-64.édifices_osiriens_des_divines_adoratrices_thébaines_les_plaques_de_bronze_trouvées_à_Memphis_par_Daninos_Egypt_Afrique_56_O64_200

Fifty+ Years Loneliness VII,: “Escape from Freedom, to Freedom!” (1)


This time, I have taken this title from a book by Erich Fromm, which he wrote after he got back from USSR. At the heart of Fromm’s thesis is the notion that freedom is a diamagnetic force — by one pole, it compels us to escape to it, which Fromm calls positive freedom; by the other, it drives us to escape from it, a manifestation of negative freedom.

It is the story of our, Al’s and mine, escape from Iran. It is, as Erich Fromm might explain: the escape from “bad freedom to a good one”. Actually, I was asked by some dear friends to tell them about it, and here it is. I hope they would have a look at this story.

In the early 1980s, after the Islamic Republic established its power with closing down all the free activities and the free press, including the newspaper in which Al and I were working, it seemed to us that there is no chance to stay in Iran anymore. Of course, we wanted to try more and didn’t want to give up so easily. But as I mentioned lately in my earlier posts, we hadn’t the stamp on our ID papers and were not recognized in society, therefore couldn’t do any jobs to earn money. And also, I was the bad boy and one day had been arrested by the Islamic police. It took one week in jail and got a beating every day without any reason or lawsuit.

Al has, of course, given all the efforts to rescue me, and finally, with the help of one of our uncles, bribing the responsible Mullah with a notable sum, they could get me out of jail. In between, we had found out that we are both on the blacklist of the regime, and it’d be better if we could vanish immediately. We needed to get our passports, and a permission to travel or exit Iran which has costed also a few sums! After this, we had needed visas which we have got from a German friend in Iran, and we got them in the form of a business visa.

Everything looked alright, and we got the tickets and on the very day, we, with excited beating hearts, got through the transit. But the last step at the gate, the airport police got us out of the row and said we have to wait because there is something wrong with our Exit Permit. This Permission was signed by a Mullah, and we thought that everything had to be okay. But, as we’d found out later, he was arrested by another Mullah, therefore, his signature was not valid anymore! Anyway, first, they kept us in the departure hall, there came even the pilot personally and ask the police to let us get on board. But they refused it. The pilot was totally unfortunate and told us sadly that he had to fly now. And the aeroplane flew with our suitcases toward Germany. Then the police took us into a room, where we stayed for several hours.


Finally, in the late evening, the chief of the department came to us, said that he is very sorry for the circumstances, but now we are free and can go home! To ask any question was dumb, we have got our passports and went to a friend’s, we had no home anymore.

freedom in prison – symbolic 3D rendering concerning totalitarian systems

It was the beginning of our journey, which looked that failed. I was worry, not about our luggage which was rolling on the baggage conveyor belt in Düsseldorfer Flughafen, and nobody was there to pick them up. But I was concerned about another apprehend by the police. But just let to be continued. I tell you in the next part, have a safe and great weekend.


Maiori forsan cum timore sententiam in me fertis quam ego accipiam (“Perhaps you pronounce this sentence against me with greater fear than I receive it”)

“Truth does not change because it is, or is not, believed by a majority of the people.” “Maybe you who condemn me are in greater fear than I who am condemned.” “It is proof of a base and low mind for one to wish to think with the masses or majority, merely because the majority is the majority. Giordano Bruno

I was always fascinated by the Hermetic knowledge. In the fact, It is one of the most important movements in the history of mankind. Especially, in 16th-century Italy, in the midst of the Renaissance, two powerful movements took hold. The first, the Hermetic Movement, was inspired by an ancient set of books housed in the library of Cosimo de’ Medici and written by the Egyptian sage Hermes Trismegistus. The movement expounded the return of the “true religion of the world” based on a form of natural magic that could draw down the powers of heaven and incorporate them into statues and physical structure. The other movement, the Heliocentric Movement launched by Copernicus, was a direct challenge to the Vatican’s biblical interpretation of the geocentric world system. Declared a heresy by the Pope, those who promoted it risked the full force of the Inquisition.

Exploring the meeting point of these two movements, we can find the most outspoken philosophers, alchemists, and scientist of the Renaissance, such as Giordano Bruno, Marsilio Ficino, Tommaso Campanella, called for the Hermetic Reformation of the Christian religion by building a magical utopic city, The City of the Sun, an architectural version of the heliocentric system.

And here, I want to tell about Giordano Bruno, who was one of them, though his knowledge, his thoughtfulness, his genius, and after all, his courage makes him an extraordinary person.

http://AZ Quotes

Of course, we must wonder about these great thinkers, who so brave and fearless, standing tall towards their fates. But as I read about Giordano Bruno’s last hours, I had to think about Socrates’s:

The hour of departure has arrived and we go our ways; I to die, and you to live. Which is better? Only God knows. Or: To fear death, my friends, is only to think ourselves wise, without being wise: for it is to think that we know what we do not know. For anything that men can tell, death may be the greatest good that can happen to them: but they fear it as if they knew quite well that it was the greatest of evils. And what is this but that shameful ignorance of thinking that we know what we do not know? Socrates

I had heard about Bruno many years ago, but I got to know him better by Robert Bauval‘s book: Vatican Heresy, with Chiara Hohenzollern. A highly recommended read. Bruno had a horrible end: a young Jesuit novice from Breslau, Germany, named Kaspar Schoppe was present at Bruno’s trail. It was Schoppe who reported his latest hours and famous words. Schoppe, a Protestant, had recently converted to Catholicism.

With Bruno were a few priests from Company of Mercy and Pity, whose morbid duty was to lead heretics to their place of execution. Also, in this morose procession were two Dominicans and two Jesuit monks who goaded Bruno and reminded him of his errors and heresies. At one stage, Bruno cried out: “I die a willing martyr, and my soul will rise with the smoke to Paradise.” To shut him up, a metal spike was pushed through his cheeks and another spike through his lips. Blood then gushed all over him. He then was tied to a wooden stake and burned alive.

According to Schoppe, “When the image of our Savior was shown to him before his death, he angrily rejected it with averred face.” Apparently, when Bruno was agonizing in the flames, one of the Dominican monks brandishes a crucifix (Schoppe’s “image of our Savior”) in his face. But Bruno, in an act of amazing defiance, managed a last surge of energy while his limbs were roasting in the flames: he swung his head away in total revulsion.

A while before, Bruno had written these words, which would fit well as an epitaph for him.

I have fought… it is much… victory lies in the hands of Fate. Be that with me as it may, whoever shall prove conqueror, future ages will not deny that I did not fear to die, was second to none inconstancy, and preferred a spirited death to a craven life.


He, Giordano Bruno, was distinguished for outstanding ability, his taste for free thinking and forbidden books soon caused him difficulties. He took many travels around Europe. France, England, Germany. In France, he even met Henry III. His talents attracted the benevolent attention of the King, and the King Henry III summoned him to the court. Bruno subsequently reported:

“I got me such a name that King Henry III summoned me one day to discover from me if the memory which I possessed was natural or acquired by magic art. I satisfied him that it did not come from sorcery but from organized knowledge; and, following this, I got a book on memory printed, entitled The Shadows of Ideas, which I dedicated to His Majesty. Forthwith he gave me an Extraordinary Lectureship with a salary.

In London, England, Bruno took up residence in the house of the French ambassador through the recommendation of Henry III. in June 1583, just a few months after his arrival, he somehow got himself invited to the University of Oxford to debate his radical views with a group of scholars. Though, it wasn’t so successful.

In Germany, he failed to obtain a teaching position at Marburg but was granted permission to teach at Wittenberg, where he lectured on Aristotle for two years. However, with a change of intellectual climate there, he was no longer welcome and in 1588 went to Prague, where he obtained 300 Talers from Rudolf II, but no teaching position. He went on to serve briefly as a professor in Helmstedt but had to flee again when he was excommunicated by the Lutherans.

Obviously, his life was nowhere in a great danger. But he did have decided for the false choice and got back to Italy: At the time the Inquisition seemed to be losing some of its strictness, and because the Republic of Venice was the most liberal state in the Italian Peninsula, Bruno was lulled into making the fatal mistake of returning to Italy.

With his death, we lost another great genius and thinker in our history. What a shame, what a loss! When we will learn.

Sources: //

The Fairy and the Dragon


I love fairytales since when I could begin to dream. I think it happens more often for the children who always have something left to wish for. And for me, yes! I had (and still have) a lot of wishes and dreams. I believe It is because of some trauma in my time as a kid. They could cause some problematic complexes, but I kept them as wishes and dreams.

Fairytales are the best way to keep the wishes alive. They will grow the power of imagination, and I have used them all with the whole of my energy. I read a lot of books and watched a lot of movies of that kind, and always wanted to be the good one, the hero! Now I appreciate this because the power of my fantasy has not become older but mightier.

Here I present a short but extensive fairytale, again from the brilliant site of our Greek friends (though, I don’t know whose story is that), to show how instructive it can be. Enjoy and have a great weekend. 🙏🤗💖

The Fairy and the Dragon

made by Sofoklis


He was once a dragon.

He never had anyone with him and wandered in mountains and caves.

After all, what else could he do but fly from one mountain to another, when he thinks about his existence and when he tears the rocks with his fingernails and blows flames.

So one day a Fairy came and sat on his nose… The dragon was surprised.
He looked her in the eyes and asked:

– Aren’t you afraid I might eat you?
– No .. I’m too small to be satiety!

– Aren’t you afraid I might imprison you forever?

– No, I disappear whenever I want.

– Aren’t you afraid I might love you?

The Fairy was confused, she did not wait for this question… but she answered him:

– No… everyone wants to love and be loved someday.

The dragon felt strongly the desire to hug her… but his fingernails nailed the little Fairy…

He wanted to kiss her; his hot breath burned her wings.

The dragon cried, but his tears drowned her.

The little Fairy was neatly (minikinly) dying in his arms, she was just whispering the secret to him…

It is not enough to want to love ……., You must be able to….!


March 4: Anniversary of the death of Jean-François Champollion (1790 – 1832)

Jean-François Champollion “Le Jeune”, decipherer of hieroglyphics
Figeac, December 23, 1790 – Paris, March 4, 1832
Portrait painted in 1831 by Léon Cogniet – Louvre Museum – INV 3294


Jean-François Champollion’s a premiere in the decipherment of the hieroglyphic script, though Thomas Young, the British polymath, had made the first advances in the decipherment before 1819. But he was a genius, and he did great work to give us the ability to read the Egyptian hieroglyph.

In 1822, Champollion published his first breakthrough in the decipherment of the Rosetta hieroglyphs, showing that the Egyptian writing system was a combination of phonetic and ideographic signs – the first such script discovered. In 1824, he published a Précis in which he detailed a decipherment of the hieroglyphic script demonstrating the values of its phonetic and ideographic signs. In 1829, he traveled to Egypt where he was able to read many hieroglyphic texts that had never before been studied, and brought home a large body of new drawings of hieroglyphic inscriptions. Home again he was given a professorship in Egyptology, but only lectured a few times before his health, ruined by the hardships of the Egyptian journey, forced him to give up teaching. He died in Paris in 1832, 41 years old. His grammar of Ancient Egyptian was published posthumously.

During his life as well as long after his death, intense discussions over the merits of his decipherment were carried out among Egyptologists. Some faulted him for not having given sufficient credit to the early discoveries of Young, accusing him of plagiarism, and others long disputed the accuracy of his decipherments. But subsequent findings and confirmations of his readings by scholars building on his results gradually led to the general acceptance of his work. Although some still argue that he should have acknowledged the contributions of Young, his decipherment is now universally accepted and has been the basis for all further developments in the field. Consequently, he is regarded as the “Founder and Father of Egyptology”. (more here )

http://Ancient Origins

Champollion and others used Coptic and other languages to help them work out other words, but the Rosetta Stone was the key to hieroglyphic. This picture shows us how Champollion worked out what all the hieroglyphs in the two names were. This made it a lot easier to read other Egyptian words now.

Now, let us read the latest time of this amazing man. With heartfelt thanks to Marie Grillot.

4 mars : Anniversaire du décès de Jean-François Champollion (1790 – 1832) via

At this moment which takes on such a special symbolism in ancient Egypt, at this hour when the sun finally triumphs over darkness, Jean-François Champollion passes away in Paris on March 4, 1832. The one who, in the fire of his passion, said: “I am all in Egypt, she is everything for me”, has been swept away by the disease when he is only 41 years old …

He has always had poor health. We remember his syncope during his “eureka” and his frequent discomforts, which occurred during his readings in the graves.

Members of the Franco-Tuscan Expedition gathered around Jean-François Champollion and Ippolito Rosellini
in the ruins of Thebes – Painting by Giuseppe Angelilli (Archaeological Museum of Florence)

Consumption, diabetes, overwork have weakened him for months. His stay in Egypt, during which he drank the water from the Nile, was also bad for his fragile liver.

The few months before his last Autumn spent in Figeac, where he returned to be pampered with his family, but this only brought him a slight improvement. On his return to Paris at the beginning of 1830, he had settled with his wife Rosine and his daughter Zoraïde in the Favart street Nr 4. In December, he resumed his lessons at the Collège de France, but he had to abandon them after a few days. Breathless and exhausted by endless coughing fits, it became impossible for him to provide his teaching.

The Champollion Brothers:
on the left, Jean-François Champollion “Le Jeune” (Figeac, December 23, 1790, Paris, March 4, 1832)
on the right, Jacques-Joseph Champollion-Figeac (Figeac, October 6, 1778, Fontainebleau, May 9, 1867),
archaeologist, historian

With his brother, Jacques-Joseph, the faithful, the protector at all times, he nevertheless continues to work on his “Egyptian Grammar”; moreover, he confided to his work: “I hope that it will be my calling card for posterity.”

In January, his condition worsened, but he still fought against this evil that later won him over… Jacques-Joseph relates with emotion these tragic moments when he implores: “’My God, two more years’… and then hitting his head:’ Too soon There is still so much in there ‘.

jean-Francois Champollion in Egyptian dress by Giuseppe Angelelli in 1828

At the beginning of February, he goes into delirium, from which he will emerge only briefly. He will have time to say: “I want to be buried at Père-Lachaise, near Fourier”. He will have time to ask to see his “Egyptian outfit” again, that outfit which certainly reminds him of the best days of his existence: his Galabiah, his Caftan, his Tarbouche… and his Gournah slippers.

The obelisks of the Louqsor temple as discovered by Champollion in 1828 (watercolor by François-Charles Cécile – 1766-1840 – RMN Grand Palais)

He will have time to worry about transporting the obelisk. The obelisk which he “chose” himself at Louqsor, and which returns to the “Luxor”, in a ship commanded by one of his very dear friends, Raymond Jean Baptiste de Verninac Saint-Maur, the one who commanded the “Astrolabe” on his return from the Franco-Tuscan expedition.

On March 3, he received extreme unction… Then, on March 4, this genius disappeared, who awakened the walls of the temples, made the papyri possible to read, revived the statues of the pharaohs, which the proscription of worship by Theodosius, 15 centuries earlier, had abandoned themselves to silence, and the key to writing and reading hieroglyphics having fallen into oblivion …

His funeral took place on March 6. 1832, at 11 a.m. In the beautiful baroque church of Saint-Roch, in the first arrondissement of Paris. He had attended this church when he was a student at the College de Franc., He was barely over 17 years old. There he had met the vicar Cheftitchi, his best Coptic teacher and heard him say the mass, in the language of ‘his’ dear Rhamses and Thoutmès”.

Tomb of Jean-François Champollion in division 18 of Père-Lachaise cemetery in Paris
Tombe de Jean-François Champollion dans la division 18 du cimetière du Père-Lachaise à Paris

He is buried in Division 18 of Père-Lachaise, where his grave covered with laurels. “His coffin placed, following his wish, not far from Fourier: this mathematician, the prefect, the friend, the initiator” (Jean Lacouture). If many present personalities and scientist regret his inestimable contribution to the knowledge of antiquity, many are there as friends because Jean-François was: “good, indulgent, helpful, worthy in everything of his high reputation and respect which surrounded his life “. Later, his wife Rosine had a simple but dignified monument erected at her own expense, that can still be seen today in the Alley of Acacias”. (Honestly, I had a little problem translating this paragraph, therefore, I added the original text, maybe someone can do it better!) 👇😉👍

Il est enterré dans la division 18 du Père-Lachaise où sa tombe est recouverte de lauriers. “Son cercueil fut déposé, suivant son vœu non loin de Fourier, le mathématicien, le préfet, l’ami, l’initiateur” (Jean Lacouture). Si nombre de personnalités présentes regrettent le savant et bien sûr son inestimable apport à la connaissance de l’antiquité, nombreux sont là en amis, parce que Jean-François fut : “bon, indulgent, serviable, digne en tout de sa haute réputation et du respect qui environna sa vie”. Plus tard, Rosine son épouse “fit élever à ses frais le monument simple mais digne que l’on peut voir aujourd’hui encore dans l’allée des Acacias”. 

A large stone slab bears the following inscription: HERE REPOSE JEAN-FRANÇOIS CHAMPOLLION BORN IN FIGEAC, DEPT. FROM THE LOT, DEC. 1790 DATED IN PARIS ON MARCH 4, 1832.

A sandstone obelisk was then added to it, with these only words engraved: “Champollion the young”, but the symbol is there, solar, luminous …

jean-François Champollion (Figeac, 1790 – Paris, 1832) Marble bust (1863) of the decipherer of hieroglyphics in the Louvre Museum © Musée du Louvre / P. Philibert

Mr. de Forbin, director of the royal museums, will address the king: “to ask him to have the bust of Mr Champollion young executed in marble to be placed in the Egyptian museum of which he is the founder”.

Even Wilkinson (who had nevertheless refused to meet him) will send, from Gournah, saddened condolences, saluting “the inestimable talent of this scholar”. And this homage, anonymous, but gives us a completely emotional dimension “We will regret, no less than the scientists: what equality of temper, what need for affection, what tenderness of heart!”

It is with a broken heart that Jacques-Joseph will bid farewell to the one who “had been more than his own existence”. From his birth in Figeac to his untimely death in Paris, he loved, pampered, carried, accompanied, helped, supported. He will be keen to perpetuate his memory and will publish his posthumous works, in particular, the “Egyptian Grammar”, the “Egyptian Dictionary in Hieroglyphic Writing” and the “Monuments of Egypt and Nubia” …

Marie Grillot


Champollion, a life of lights, Jean Lacouture, Grasset, 1988

Jean-François Champollion, His life and his work, Hermine Hartleben

Champollion, diary of a life, Champollion Figeac Museum

Correspondences, Figeac and the Champollion brothers, Karine Madrigal, Champollion Museum, Figeac

Champollion, the deciphered scientist, Alain Faure, 2020

Notice published in the review of the Société de phrenologie de Paris, November 12, 1833, by Doctor Janin

Champollion a disruptive genius, Jean Maumy http://id=KPZRlEcMfJkC&pg=PA263&lpg=PA263&dq=tombe+champollion+père+lachaise&source=bl&ots=MTAj14cB-y&sig=RXp5PA0yFiX6yL3IiVrwrhb0WVQ&hl=fr&sa=X&ei=21sSU6biKKOb0AXLhYCIAg&ved=0CFUQ6AEwBjgK#v=onepage&q=tombe% 20champollion% 20father% 20lachaise & f = false

Thoughts are free! (Die Gedanken sind Frei), And The Choices are Free Too!


Today, I want to share my thoughts with you, the Ones which concern me lately. I don’t want to talk about any conspiracy or whatsoever likes. It is only this all stuff about Coronavirus, the Vaccine, and the subjects of matter of terrifying. Please read this carefully, and I hope I can explain my point of view clearly.

Hi, dear friends, before you read this post, please don’t be upset, because it is not a usual post of me, and it maybe looks too strange before your eyes. And I don’t claim anything except my rights of free choice. And I think that it has to do with all of you, your personal freedom, your personal rights, please think twice about what prejudice before you do.

Of course, I am not talking about Bill Gates with George Clooney and Hillary Clinton, who want to control the world and drink children’s blood!! It is all about me myself. I just wanna say: I don’t want to get vaccinated. I can’t do the same as the mass do! I did it always, all through my life, and I was not alone. Al, my brother, has been in the same way, though everyone in his own style.

Al was silent, as hermit and recluse. I was curious and rebel, and more in the public, might because of my working as a photographer. I uttered my thoughts always loud and clear, with no fear and with my head raised. That might sound crazy, but I was crazy (and still am, though, got older). After the 1979′ revolution in Iran, there was rarely a day in which I walked through the streets without being observed or forced into the police car for investigation.

I don’t know the reason why they were so fixated on me, perhaps, because, every time they have observed me, I have looked back at them! And I have never made their investigation easier as I complained that they’d have no right to inspect me. I knew about my right, and it made them angry. And finally, one day, they took me to jail without any reason. There, I had learned about their way of torturing. It is, of course, another story.

Let’s get back to the present. Last year, as this virus appeared, everything looked so easy. I speak about the situation in Germany, as I am living here. I have read a lot about the conditions in the other countries, but I should judge better, where I have a direct overview. And I think that it stinks high to the sky!

The German government, first, meant it’s all under control. Then, after all, it was clear that it’s not! Later, as the word (lockdown) became a lovely word, running through the mouth of every minister, they began to make mistakes one after another. It was because they did know nothing about what to do, but they didn’t want to concede that, and they still don’t know. This made me unsure about their skill and competence to solve the problem, and from the beginning, I didn’t care about their advice. I was working every day, with many peoples in close contact, but until now, I have got no diseases. I do not deny this virus. It exists among the other different virus, and I am not afraid of them all.

Some years ago, when Influenza made a fuss in Europe, I had almost every day someone infected in my car, and those days we had no mask to protect ourselves. But I had no fear because I believed (and still believing) in my own immunity (antibody). Everybody told me, those days, that I should let myself vaccinate for protecting from influenza, but I didn’t do that, and I don’t want to do this also against Covid!

As we might remember, influenza killed over ten thousand every year in the world. It is only this year that it takes a break because the Covid makes it instead! In my opinion, it is the same danger and nothing more. But as we see, there are a lot of chances to make money out of it. They do it in the form of shipment shops or, like in Germany, the lobbyists sell masks with a little help from the politics and the ministers, and all make an immense profit.

After this long prologue, I want to ask you if I have the right to say: I DO NOT WANT TO GET VACCINE! You may answer, of course, I have. But there is a mean problem, it is that every step one wanna undertake, like going to the cinema, restaurants, concerts or travels, will be conditional. The Vaccination certificate!

How we can keep fear from spiraling out of our control - The Washington Post
http://The Washington Post

Please listen! You may not know how is it to live under a dictatorship. But I know it, as I lived over thirty years under two totally different ones. I Just want to say that every government or regime in the whole world, no matter where, just all want to enjoy ruling totally. As Aristotle said, (as he damaged the beautiful world of his master Platon!): The politicians must earn enough money, not to get the temptation of any corrupted idea. But as we see today, there is no limit and their thirst.

You know! I don’t want to compare Europe (EU) with the Islamic Republic of Iran but, when Khomeini came to power, he made a referendum about if the people of Iran want the Islamic Republic or not: Yes or No! Al and I didn’t take part in this referendum because we knew there is all fraud. There was no coercion to take part in this election, we were free, but the trick was that the people, who took part in it, had got a stamp in their pass, and this stamp was not just a thing, it was the acceptance of your being alive. We had not this stamp, therefore, we were not alive! We couldn’t get a job or insurance or everything that had to do with the government, and unfortunately, I feel the same right now; we are allowed to reject the vaccine but, we can’t do anything we like to do! We, the not vaccinated, do not belong to society.

Anyhow, for many years, I got accustomed to my loneliness or swimming against the stream but, it is also calming to share my thoughts, the forbidden thoughts, with my friends. As we might know, the German peoples were one of the beginners of the fight for freedom. Here is one of the most famous song all thereabout. Enjoy and have a wonderful and safe time. 🙏💖🙏👍

It has been claimed that this song goes back to the Bundshuh rebellion of 1525 when the peasants rebelled against their oppression by the Swabian princes. The revolt was a failure and serfdom continued for another three hundred years in Germany. There is little evidence for this bit of folklore however and it is more likely to have its origins in the 18th century, when it was published as a broadside. The concept of freedom of thought has nearly always been considered dangerous and the song was banned for many years before the 1848 revolution, especially as it was seen to be associated with the ideals of the French Revolution. It was widely sung in pre-Hitler Germany and brought to the USA by German immigrants fleeing Nazi Germany. It is also said to have been sung in German concentration camps between 1933 and 1945.

Hermann Hesse: What Your Life Teaches Us

Foto: LaPresse

I got to know Hermann Hesse’ works in Iran in the 1970s. There were only a few books which translated from him. It was when I came to Germany, I’ve got to know him better. He was not just a poet; he was a great thinker, philosopher, and painter.

I remember well when I had a customer whom I drove to the next city for an eyes-OP (injection) once a month. She’s a wise woman, and we talked a lot about many different things, among them literature. One of her favourites was Hermann Hesse, and once, she gave me a book of him (Freude am Garten) to have a look at when I had to wait for her. There I found out how soft and deeply he narrates about thoughts, love and life.

Here one of his peoms:

Wind im Gesträuch und Vogelpfiff
Und hoch im höchsten süßen Blau
Ein stilles, stolzes Wolkenschiff. . .
Ich träume von einer blonden Frau,
Ich träume von meiner Jugendzeit,
Der hohe Himmel blau und weit
Ist meiner Sehnsucht Wiege,
Darin ich stillgesinnt
Und selig warm
Mit leisem Summen liege,
So wie in seiner Mutter Arm
Ein Kind.

spring day
Wind in the bushes and birds whistle
And high in the highest sweet blue
A quiet, proud cloud ship. . .
I dream of a blonde woman
I dream of my youth
The high sky blue and wide
Is the cradle of my longing
In it I quietly mused
And blissfully warm
With a low humming lie
Just like in his mother’s arm
A child.

And now, I want to present a brilliant article by Sandra “Eshewa” Saporito, about this master of the muse. She is a holistic operator specializing in transcultural shamanism and Mindfulness. For more here. Translated from Italian. 💖

Hermann Hesse: Cosa Ci Insegna La Sua Vita

Di Sandra Saporito -14 Luglio 2019

Hermann Hesse, artist and Nobel Prize for literature, was born on July 2, 1877, in Germany, into a pietist family that gave him a very rigid education, where art did not have its place and was considered superficial.

Hermann Hesse one day wrote to his sister Adelaide about it: “It often happened that mum and dad expressed approval for a poem or a musical composition, adding immediately however that all this, of course, was the only atmosphere, only empty beauty, only art, without ever drawing a high value such as morality, will, character, etc. This theory has ruined my existence and I detached myself from it without the possibility of returning “.

This did not prevent him from becoming an Artist, with a capital “A”, not so much because he was a writer, poet, aphorist and painter at the same time but because his art was rich in meanings that went well beyond the purely aesthetic aspect. of the work: imbued with moral, philosophical and psychological meanings that exalted both the disturbances and the profound transformations of which his inner life was rich, some of his works, markedly influenced by his psychoanalytic sessions with CG Jung, described the inner journey to the discovery of the Self and the mysteries of existence.

→ Read also: Siddhartha by H. Hesse, 12 precious teachings of the book

His works are full of teachings, but today I would like to talk to you about the life of this great writer and the lessons that his life has left us as a legacy.

Search for your identity, your vocation: it is what elevates the human being


Hermann Hesse matured a vision of art totally different from that of his parents, to the point of making it the pillar of his life. Although he had little hope that art could change society, he felt that it could profoundly change the man.

“Art, the fulfilment of inner satisfaction, meant connecting with a deep and essential meaning associated with the term ‘home’. This house, however, was not the house of her parents. It was rather a return to something intangible, linked to intuition, but unique for each individual. It was a return and a journey at the same time and could only be reached through art, or rather through the strenuous formation of oneself. “Barbara Spadini writes on the relationship between Hermann Hesse and art.

Foto: LaPresse

It was through this medium repudiated by his family that Hermann Hesse developed a visceral desire to discover his identity and to discover the mysteries of the world: which he did thanks to Jungian analytical psychology, the study of Buddhism, Hinduism and Gnosticism, art and philosophy.

Although he behaved in stark contrast to his parents’ ideology, his family background had a great influence on him: he was aware of the influence his family tree had on his life.

He was in fact influenced by the life of his grandparents, whose name he bore: “To tell my story, I have to start from the distant beginning. If it were possible for me, I would have to go back much further, to the earliest years of my childhood and even further into the distant past of my origin.”

Art helps you become better human beings

Through his novels and poems, filled with autobiographical elements, Hermann Hesse recalled the episodes of the past that had caused him pain by making writing a tool for self-analysis, reflection on the world and inner evolution.


Its protagonists lived in the imagination what the author had experienced: the fears about the future linked to war and the violence perpetrated on human beings in the name of ideologies of power, the inner tensions linked to religion and its prohibitions, existential questions on the meaning of life and the search for inner peace despite the inner evils that did not give him peace: he had been suffering from depression for years.

The plot of his works often highlighted how much the individual and the collective were linked, the reflection on identity moved back and forth towards a collective dimension that in turn influenced the individual for good or bad, leading him to both virtue and vice, with the awareness that life is made up of these two antagonistic forces.

The most beautiful works can be born from the crisis


Through art and writing, in particular, Hermann Hesse gave voice to those inner storms that he managed to govern thanks to the movement of his feather: writing became a tool to express the hidden side of identity, art became a bridge between invisible and manifest that allowed to channel and sublimate the impulses of the unconscious: pain was transmuted into art thanks to ink.

In Demian, a coming-of-age novel in 1919, Hermann Hesse wrote passages from his conversations with Dr Lang, collaborator of C. G. Jung with whom he made a psychoanalytic path to get out of a state of profound crisis. This path inspired him to write the novel: “But all [the conversations], even the humblest, hit with light and constant hammering the same point inside me, all contributed to form me, to break eggshells from each of which I raised my head a little higher, a little freer until the yellow bird with the beautiful head of a bird of prey erupted from the shattered shell of the world.”

This painful feather allowed him to develop a literary style that earned him a Nobel Prize in 1946 “For his inspired writing which, growing in audacity and penetration, exemplifies classical humanitarian ideals, and for the high quality of the style”.

In hindsight it is curious to note how much his works have influenced the minds of his readers, dispelling his initial belief: art actually, by changing men, can really help change society. A tree will certainly not be able to change the face of a forest, but its fruits, the potential trees, will certainly be able to do so over the course of many seasons.

Sandra “Eshewa” Saporito
Autrice e operatrice in discipline bio-naturali