Cuneiform libraries of ancient Mesopotamia [were] so extensive that we know more about daily life in this area three thousand years ago than we know about daily life in western Europe twelve hundred years ago.
We often hear of Alexander the Great conquering the world, but what he really conquered was Persia, which had already conquered “the world.”
The history of Iraq
Perhaps the most dynamic petri dish of early human culture was that fertile wedge of land between the Tigris and Euphrates known as Mesopotamia—which means, in fact, “between the rivers.” Incidentally, the narrow strip of land flanked by these two rivers almost exactly bisects the modern-day nation of Iraq. When we speak of “the fertile crescent” as “the cradle of civilization,” we’re talking about Iraq—this is where it all began. One key geographical feature sets Mesopotamia apart from some of the other early hotbeds of culture. Its two defining rivers flow through flat, habitable plains and can be approached from any direction. Geography provides no natural defenses to the people living here—unlike the Nile, for example, which is flanked by marshes on its eastern side, by the uninhabitable Sahara on the west, and by rugged cliffs at its upper end. Geography gave Egypt continuity but also reduced its interactions with other cultures, giving it a certain stasis. Not so, Mesopotamia. Here, early on, a pattern took hold that was repeated many times over the course of a thousand-plus years, a complex struggle between nomads and city dwellers, which kept spawning bigger empires. The pattern went like this: Settled farmers would build irrigation systems supporting prosperous villages and towns. Eventually some tough guy, some well-organized priest, or some alliance of the two would bring a number of these urban centers under the rule of a single power, thereby forging a larger political unit—a confederation, a kingdom, an empire. Then a tribe of hardy nomads would come along, conquer the monarch of the moment, seize all his holdings, and in the process expand their empire. Eventually the hardy nomads would become soft, luxury-loving city dwellers, exactly the sort of people they had conquered, at which point another tribe of hardy nomads would come along, conquer them, and take over their empire. Conquest, consolidation, expansion, degeneration, conquest—this was the pattern. It was codified in the fourteenth century by the great Muslim historian Ibn Khaldun, based on his observations of the world he lived in. Ibn Khaldun felt that in this pattern he had discovered the underlying pulse of history.
Perhaps the most dynamic petri dish of early human culture was that fertile wedge of land between the Tigris and Euphrates known as Mesopotamia—which means, in fact, “between the rivers.” Incidentally, the narrow strip of land flanked by these two rivers almost exactly bisects the modern-day nation of Iraq. When we speak of “the fertile crescent” as “the cradle of civilization,” we’re talking about Iraq—this is where it all began. One key geographical feature sets Mesopotamia apart from some of the other early hotbeds of culture. Its two defining rivers flow through flat, habitable plains and can be approached from any direction. Geography provides no natural defenses to the people living here—unlike the Nile, for example, which is flanked by marshes on its eastern side, by the uninhabitable Sahara on the west, and by rugged cliffs at its upper end. Geography gave Egypt continuity but also reduced its interactions with other cultures, giving it a certain stasis. Not so, Mesopotamia. Here, early on, a pattern took hold that was repeated many times over the course of a thousand-plus years, a complex struggle between nomads and city dwellers, which kept spawning bigger empires. The pattern went like this: Settled farmers would build irrigation systems supporting prosperous villages and towns. Eventually some tough guy, some well-organized priest, or some alliance of the two would bring a number of these urban centers under the rule of a single power, thereby forging a larger political unit—a confederation, a kingdom, an empire. Then a tribe of hardy nomads would come along, conquer the monarch of the moment, seize all his holdings, and in the process expand their empire. Eventually the hardy nomads would become soft, luxury-loving city dwellers, exactly the sort of people they had conquered, at which point another tribe of hardy nomads would come along, conquer them, and take over their empire. Conquest, consolidation, expansion, degeneration, conquest—this was the pattern. It was codified in the fourteenth century by the great Muslim historian Ibn Khaldun, based on his observations of the world he lived in. Ibn Khaldun felt that in this pattern he had discovered the underlying pulse of history.
ينبغي لمن يكتب كتابًا ألّا يكتبه إلّا على أنّ الناس كلَّهم له أعداء، وكلَّهم عالِمٌ بالأُمور، وكلَّهم متفرِّغٌ له، ثُمّ لا يرضى بذلك حتى يَدَع كتابه غُفلًا، ولا يرضى بالرأي الفطير، فإنّ لابتداءِ الكتابِ فتنةً وعُجبًا، فإذا سَكَنَت الطبيعة وهدأت الحركة وتراجعت الأخلاط وعادت النفسُ وافرةً، أعادَ النظرَ فيه، فيتوقف عند فصولِه، تَوقُّفَ مَن يكونُ وزنُ طَمَعه في السلامة أنقَصَ مِن وَزنِ خَوفِه مِن العَيب.
— أبو عثمان الجاحظ.
— أبو عثمان الجاحظ.
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A new, boring, theory of relativity
Time is relative. Our mood, state of mind, and what we do in the moment, all affect our perception of time: boredom lengthens it, while activity shortens it.
It follows, boredom serves a very important role; it engrosses us in time and allows us to savor and feel every second. In boredom one feels the full weight of the moment. To feel bored, in the short term, is unpleasant. But on the long term, boredom is like the clock chime that helps you tell the time. It punctuates time and "lengthens it."
Boredom is the metronome for our perception of time.
Time is relative. Our mood, state of mind, and what we do in the moment, all affect our perception of time: boredom lengthens it, while activity shortens it.
It follows, boredom serves a very important role; it engrosses us in time and allows us to savor and feel every second. In boredom one feels the full weight of the moment. To feel bored, in the short term, is unpleasant. But on the long term, boredom is like the clock chime that helps you tell the time. It punctuates time and "lengthens it."
Boredom is the metronome for our perception of time.
So every once in a while, try to sit quietly and get bored for some minutes. It'll make your day feel longer.
Eros and depression are opposites. Eros pulls the subject out of itself, toward the Other. Depression, in contrast, plunges the subject into itself. Today’s narcissistic “achievement-subject” seeks out success above all. Finding success validates the One through the Other. Thereby, the Other is robbed of otherness and degrades into a mirror of the One — a mirror affirming the latter’s image. This logic of recognition ensnares the narcissistic achievement-subject more deeply in the ego. The corollary is success-induced depression: the depressive achievement-subject sinks into, and suffocates in, itself.
Eros, in contrast, [...] leads the One out of a narcissistic inferno. It sets into motion freely willed self-renunciation, freely willed self-evacuation. A singular process of weakening lays hold of the subject of love — which, however, is accompanied by a feeling of strength. This feeling is not the achievement of the One, but the gift of the Other.
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Eros and depression are opposites. Eros pulls the subject out of itself, toward the Other. Depression, in contrast, plunges the subject into itself. Today’s narcissistic “achievement-subject” seeks out success above all. Finding success validates the One through…
حقيقةُ المحبةِ قيامُك مع مَحبوبِك، بِخَلعِ أوصافك والإتصافِ بأوصافه
— الحسين بن منصور الحلاج
— الحسين بن منصور الحلاج