Syria A Guide for the Perplexed. OPINION TURNING AGAINST MAY...WAIT TO SEE PARLIAMENTS REACTION TOMORROW
Mike and I discuss the present perplexing scene, A sort of Guide for the perplexed.
News feeds in the corporate media have become esoteric these days and consultingMaimonides is not such a bad idea.
The wise king said, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in vessels of silver" (Prov. xxv. 11). Hear the explanation of what he said:--The word maskiyoth, the Hebrew equivalent for "vessels," denotes "filigree network"--i.e., things in which there are very small apertures, such as are frequently wrought by silversmiths. They are called in Hebrew maskiyyoth (lit. "transpicuous," from the verb sakah, "he saw," a root which occurs also in the Targum of Onkelos, Gen. xxvi. 8), because the eye penetrates through them. Thus Solomon meant to say, "just as apples of gold in silver filigree with small apertures, so is a word fitly spoken."
Maimonides, A Guide for the Perplexed.
As the Low Hanging Fruit rots, the true believers and credulous continued to grasp at the unseen upper branches of the tree of myth and ideology: clutching further, and stretching longer, extending their reach by any means, even means unimaginable to anyone but the desperate and deluded. They knew that the Golden Apple, no one had ever seen , or , produced evidence of its existence, was there, just beyond their furthest reach, Just out of sight of their keenest glance. So as the Low-Hung Fruit still rotted, having ripened and yet not nourished those for whom only the Perfection of the Golden Fruit of pure ideological reified hubris would ever be enough. The obvious went ignored its goodness rejected in the pursuit of the impossible promises of soothsayers, priests, mountebanks, politicians and Fifth Avenue suits and City Bankers, so many lies clothed in so many promises taking hope and optimism and producing a pathetic belief in the bounties of the Noble Lie.
And here we see the Autumn of a civil war where men women and children have perished, their death caused by what some in years to come will say was due to the Mythical invasion of the sea peoples. Which Historical Turning of a 21st-century Ideologue would find its analogue in Aleppo Syria, to the Firestorms and Privations of the Bronze Age collapse in 1150 BC. And what do these two disparate events and the Low Hanging Fruit and the Apple of Gold wrapped in Filigree of silver have to do with our business here in our thoughts and investigations in these coming pages.
Search on and we will surely find out and discover together as we look at the scenes that play out before us. Together we will in our minds eye trace the steps of Ahmed Abdul Hittite, the Bakers son of Aleppo. He who was sent abroad again to seek refuge for the secret of his Guild to be perpetuated in a Bond millennia Old and passed down from Father to Son. His story, along with the Secrets of the precious alchemy from which his family had sustained Egyptian Pharaohs through to the Palace in Damascus of President Assad. A lineage that had served ; Sultans, Pashas and great Kings and Queens of yore in the Cradle of civilisation.
We travel through Damascus even before Abraham had Spoken of Gods word, Already ancient when Jesus Christ Was a Boy and Older Still when the prophet Mohammed Received the Holy Quran. For Abdul's mission and secret recipe was the secret of Dough , the Sacred Dough of Aleppo from which all Leavened Bread had been exported as an Idea and a Method , yet only the Hittite Sour Dough of the Hittite Bakery of Aleppo was the true source and substance of the Greatest most sacred and honored Starter, the eminence and fountain head of The Bakers Craft, tied to antiquity and bound to the most Trusted and to a Brotherhood of world Wide civilisation.
Where there was Trade, there was Counting to be done and accounts to be settled. Where farmers toiled and there were offers to treat, where merchants would Seal their Bargains with the breaking of Bread and the Dipping of Bread in Salt and where the secrets of the alchemies of Commerce were held deepest and closest the Hittite bread would serve to mark, The Conquest of Dough.Where all could bake and break bread hewn from the earth of Mother nature's bounty, the true source of the wealth of man in nature.
The Last Bakery in Aleppo.
Abdul looks at the space where his father's head once sat upon his broad shoulders, the words his father had just spoke rung in his ears and he held in his hands a Jar Covered in Silver Filigree through which glistened the golden sheath. Concealed and protected within,be an ancient Glass vessel held, beneath a Lid of fine ornamented be- jeweled blue lapis lazuli blue glass that shimmered as the Mediterranean sea off the beaches of the Mediterranean Sea. Within this sacred Vessel was the most sacred of ceremonial Doughs, the most secretly and jealously guarded of all Aleppo's secrets. More jealously protected down generations of his family more so than the Codex of Aleppo's Central Synagogue the Site of the Cave of Elijah. This was history and the key to the sustenance of generations a direct line back to before history began, a starter dough born of the first undomesticated grains and the Yeast from the air breathed by the first civilisations of sedentary populations. These were the grains which formed the metrics for measurements from which the noble science of metrology sprang. The grains which defined the weights and measures of rations for the slaves of Pharaohs and the origins of all measurements from which all science and mathematics became codified. The Grains that made this dough produced the sugars and the carbohydrates that nourished the bodies and fueled the thoughts of the mothers of all invention. In his hands, Abdul's held a link back to the beginning of all that we know, and all that we take for granted. And now it fell for him to take the Holy Sour Dough to a safe place, far away, over many seas and lands to make good and redeem promises made long ago between contracting parties whose promises were sealed in blood and sacrifice and whose code had spread to the four corners of the world. Secrets now bleeding from the severed head of his Father yet locked still in the mind of His son who stood momentarily shocked.
He heard voices, The White Helmets, the mercenary army of the Black orders of usury, the challengers of the nobility of the dough.