The Skies Have Spoken... Again

Much of the media, even "serious" mainstream media, seem to be abuzz with a report - and a picture - of a bolt of lightning that allegedly hit the dome of St Peter's basilica in Rome yesterday - on the very day of Pope Benedict XVI's announcement of his forthcoming resignation on February 28th of this year.
(The announcement itself certainly is comparable to a bolt from the skies. No pope has resigned in many centuries.)

Lightning is far from extraordinary in the present weather conditions; and a tall dome, such as Michelangelo's masterpiece, is a natural lightning rod.

Still, I am surprised that so few, if any, seem to remember that the advent of the current Pope was met by very similar, only much odder, weather manifestations.
Who could forget the wind "fingering" through the pages of the heavy book placed on John Paul II's coffin, during the ceremony outside St Peter's, before closing it in a shockingly abrupt manner?
(The window shutters on the late John Paul II's bedroom - which had been closed, as tradition dictates - were also flung wide open, but few seem to have noticed it.)

Yet many seem to have forgotten the far more shocking scene immediately  after the habemus papam, when the newly announced Pope Benedict XVI was led onto the balcony overlooking St Peter's Square - and a gust of fierce wind and rain slammed the door of the balcony in his face.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
And now, I cannot believe so many have forgotten about it.

Where am I going with this?
Nowhere. I am simply completing the picture that others have chosen to focus on. I like completeness.

I do believe sometimes nature can express - or seem to express - itself symbolically in terms of a wider human reality, perhaps as a condensation of the human collective subconscious, if there is such a thing.
(Make sure you click on that link if you're interested in this topic.)

But what would it be saying in this case?
I don't know. Nobody knows.
And, typically, those who know the least are the most vocal about it, expressing unabashedly the extent of their intellectual and cognitive shortcomings.

We just don't know.

Benedict XVI - Josef Ratzinger - is a human, like all of us, yet he has been subjected to inhuman (perhaps understandable) scrutiny and often to hatred that has little to do with him. (But then hatred is hardly a rational feeling.) People in the limelight are often perceived as cartoon characters, with no humanity of their own, which serves no-one, least of all those who are guilty of such perception.
But that's how it is.
Yet he, like all of us, only has one life to live.
Perhaps that is the reason - one of the reasons - why he wants to shed the weight of leadership of an institution so heavy with tradition and all sorts of implications, and face - live through - whatever he has and wishes to face. It is his life: his one and only life.

Whatever his reasons for stepping down, I wish him peace and light.
And I wish much more of the same on his - or anyone's - mindless detractors.

Kate in Wonderland

Buckingham Palace and its subsidiaries, Kensington Palace, Balmoral... 
I think they could qualify as a wonderland of sorts. There is a queen; and certainly there are many, many curious characters inhabiting it. 
(Silver stick-in-waiting... If that's not a Carrollian kind of name, I don't know what is.)
Heck, even Mustique, with its insidiously scratching-inducing name, is far removed from hell on Earth.

But this is not about Kate's lifestyle. If anything, it is, if you will, more about her "lifestyle" - the images inhabiting her world - as it would or could have been, had she decided to pursue her academic interests. Or as it might be is she does decide to pursue them.
OK, let's not strain this metaphor any further.

You will have noticed that we have mentioned Catherine Middleton (apparently that still is her legal name), or the Duchess of Cambridge, as she is now known, exactly once before in this blog.
There's no special reason for it, as there simply is no special reason for mentioning her.

But today a friend, an art historian (and a damned good one, too), wondered what was her fellow art historian Kate's diploma thesis or dissertation, as they are called in some places. 

That is an interesting question, so I tried to find out.
Thanks, mostly, to this site, it didn't take me long.

Catherine Middleton graduated with a dissertation on Lewis Carroll and his photographic interpretation of childhood.
The full title of her thesis, as it is listed on the Honours dissertations page of the University of St Andrew's website, is 'Angels from Heaven': Lewis Carroll's Photographic Interpretation of Childhood.

I'd love to read it, as photography - treacherous as it is -  can be contentious anyway, and Lewis Carrol's photographs of children even more so (especially in these ridiculously politically correct times).

I would also love to hear what it was that attracted her to this particular topic.

If you know more about Kate's penchant for Lewis Carroll's photography, do let us know.