Lucifer Orbis

Some months ago, I bought a book called En Reise til Roma – I sporene til pilegrimen Nikolas Bergsson året 1152 (A Journey to Rome – In the footsteps of the pilgrim Nikolas Bergsson in the year 1152) by Hans Jacob Orning and Svein Harald Gullbekk. Both authors are history professors at the Oslo University and have made research in the fields of Norwegian and European history in the Middle Ages. Svein Harald did also run research projects in the area of numismatics. I think they must be a very interesting duo and their classes are surely packed with curiosities about history, big societal questions, nasty details about religious relics, period currency and also tips and tricks about bike maintenance. Yes, both gentlemen are passionate about cycling.

The book is about an Icelandic monk called Nikolas Bergsson and the pilgrimage he undertook from Iceland to Rome and then Jerusalem. He left a travel guide to help other pilgrims. The document is called Leiðarvísir og borgarskipan. As a trve icelandic man, Nikolas was sceptic of authorities, didn't dabble too much in political intrigue, still had the saga of Sigurd Fåvnesbane and Gudrun in his imaginary, had a special interest in saints and relics and whether or not he found what he was looking for in his pilgrimage is still a mystery. Of what is known, he managed to go safely back to Iceland. He became abbot of the benedictine monastery of Munkaþverá in Eyjafjörður.

So what did Hans Jacob and Svein Harald decide to do? Walk in the steps of Nikolas and see the world through his eyes to the best of their ability? Of course not! They would cycle! The book's title is A Journey to Rome because the authors opted to make the first half of Nikolas' pilgrimage from Iceland to Rome and experience the world from their bike seats. They had to make sporadic use of transportation and resort to current-day facilities but soon found themselves in Norway. Thus the book, in general terms, tells the story of what they are able to see and find in the places Nikolas visited at a time when most territories in Europe were part of the Western Roman Empire. What did Nikolas see? More than that, what was he aware of?

The book is packed with historical facts and curiosities from the get-go and it can quickly get a bit overwhelming. The authors followed the guide very closely, informing the reader about the instances they deviated from and why. It's an astronomical amount of research that my brain, used to read texts focused on one aspect of historical thinking, struggled a bit to keep up. I can't say I didn't get distracted at times, but there was always something grabbing my attention a few sentences sooner or later. I think I saw a bit of myself in Nikolas, going back to something I've mentioned two paragraphs ago as is expressed here:

Det var helgener, relikvier og kirker han [Nikolas] var opptatt av, ikke paver, ei heller kirken som helhet eller ideologi. (p. 61)

“Nikolas was interested in saints, relics and churches, not popes or the church as a whole or as ideology.” I can see this. Do I share a bit with Nikolas? Maybe so. After what I learned about him I could see myself walking by his side and drinking some beers with him, exactly how Hans Jacob and Svein Harald imagined if they were in the same pilgrimage. I'm just not so sure, though. There's a lot of speculation about Nikolas' thinking – if there was some interest in the church as an institution it may be lost to us. However, it strikes me as odd if there's a total disconnect between a future abbot and his current-day church affairs. The authors don't seem to be very interested in the church as an ideology either, especially when there's emperors and politics to think about. In any case, in good academic spirits, it's always good to maintain some neutrality when it comes to matters of religion and faith, even in a book which is supposed to be about the complexity of the time period it illustrates, the travel and Nikolas pilgrimage. In the end the authors painted a very profound picture of the mentality of people in the Middle Ages, their interconnected webs of actions and reactions, the spiritual and the mundane connected, the supernatural realm and its impact and significance in the physical world. At times, I struggled to see the difference between this mentality and the unique experience of meeting (some) religious people today.

I continued reading the book and our friend Nikolas made his way through Speyer, he saw the Speyer cathedral – a massive building with cruciform plan, a central nave and two side aisles, the transeptum, a big vault and a deambulatorium. It's a large, earthly, serene, and powerful construction built with red sandstone and the final resting place of emperors. By the time Nikolas visited the cathedral Conrad II, Henry III, Henry IV and Henry V were already buried there. The authors were completely drawn to it and me too. I want to visit that cathedral for other reasons, not of the same world as our author’s, but now that I have a little more information, I also wish to take a look at the graves and marvel at them, not only at the Divine. I want to see the cathedral from the outside and see it, not only as the house of God, but as house-like, an oversized house that doesn’t project itself to the skies like a meteor.

The reaction of our travel companions to the Strasbourg cathedral was visceral to say the least (p. 134). Its rayonnant gothic architecture didn’t allow for an opportunity to rest the eye. Used to Protestant churches with minimal religious imagery, I can only imagine the overwhelming impact gothic architecture has on people who aren’t religious or are used to simplicity and practicality. I myself love gothic churches for their artistical, architectural and engineering value; they’re like a museum or an open book which tells many stories if we’re able to comprehend or identify them. I just don’t see them as optimal places of prayer. I never entered a gothic church and got that pull to sit in introspection or say a word of prayer. The reaction of our authors shocked me at first but now in hindsight I can see where it came from. Who were those bells and whistles made for anyway? How did people react at the time the rayonnant part was finished? Was the objective to disturb or to invite? Or both?

The chapters about the church, relics, and saints are among my favourites. The exciting practice of stealing relics from a city to considerably increase the economic power of another city is described in such a way that almost I forgot that stealing is wrong. Our authors call it kulturkriminalitet which dispenses any translation. The idea of cultural crimes is a relatively modern one and at the time of Frederik Barbarossa it meant serious business (p. 84). When his troops took over Milan they got access to massive loot. Among the goodies were the relics of the Three Kings. This was a wonderful score handed to the Archbishop Rainal of Dassel that made Cologne into one of the most important centres of pilgrimage. What I find most captivating are the discussions between both authors at the end of the chapters, where the subject shifts from a very compressed mixture of names, places, dates and events (all relevant and well structured) to little bits of introspection, analysis and reflection. They themselves reflected upon the relics and what they felt upon seeing them.

Many such stories, like the one I described, populate the book like illuminated manuscripts. Reflections about religion, doctrine, mentality, faith, fear, danger, wars, beauty and contemplation are present more or less prominently across the book, through Nikolas’ experience of the world around him, and the author’s experience from their informed perspective – rational, relevant and informed. A lot about Nikolas is clouded in uncertainty but of the many times Hans Jacob and Svein Harald stop to take a breather, they think about the motives of a pilgrimage, its biggest triumph, if it’s the higher heavens and salvation or something more. They left donations only to the small churches that were in most disrepair and need. They eventually met the heroes of this story – Andrea and his family. Isn’t this also a part of a pilgrimage? The human connection, the experiences and the edification (danning) we derive from it.

There will be a lot of back-and-forth in History to comprehend the world Nikolas moves in, his 12th century of constant clashes between papal and imperial powers. By the end of the book we find a modern translation of the Leiðarvísir with all the most likely locations Nikolas visited. They must have decided not to add the part from Rome to Jerusalem but it can easily be found online. There’s also a timetable with the approximate number of days the pilgrimage took. Also a bibliography with commentary from where I underlined about nine books to read.

As a closing note, both Hans Jacob and Svein Harald are research colleagues and they had the idea of writing this book after working on a project called Standardization in the Middle Ages supported by The Research Council of Norway. The research resulted in a book which is now in open access in its whole or in parts. The book En Reise til Roma was also supported by The Research Council of Norway and the Norwegian Non-Fiction Writers and Translators Association. It was published by Dreyers Forlag in 2024. I hope the book gets an English translation soon. If it does, I’ll read it again, maybe in ebook format. I can’t say that I didn’t get stuck at times. Norwegian is still a new language to me. Even though I speak it every day, I don’t make much use of it outside of my job, and my reading habits in the language have been very lacking. English is our Latin. Jumping right into an History book wasn’t the best idea, or maybe it was. I have read light romance novels where I didn’t struggle so much. My head is extremely tired but I am very satisfied with overcoming this reading without interrupting the flow to check the dictionary. This book was also a pilgrimage to me. I can’t wait to read some articles about standardisation in the Middle Ages!

We already knew beforehand about our plans to go to a bouldering introduction course. My wife has been training these last few months, somewhat on-and-off but doing what she can handle, sometimes in reality, and other times in intention. Me on the other hand, not that much. I’m a sitting person doing sitting things. I go to work, walk a little bit, sometimes try to catch the bus two or three bus stops away, all well and good. But training, no, it’s not my specialty. Do I have one? Complaining in silence. I spent my Monday writing and working and wondering how the bouldering course would be. It would be great, of course! No reason not to be able to climb a short wall, I guess. I think I’ll manage given that, for some good blessing of nature, I have good upper-body strength. Were it not at the expense of my lower-body I could almost think myself a fitting human. Even in muscle distribution I am able to be a contrarian. As long as I can use my hands and shoulders, using my legs as support, I can climb at least the easiest colours. This is exactly the opposite of what should be done. Let me be very straightforward: don’t use anything you read here about physical exercise as gospel.

I arrived home and after hearing the story about how our washing machine is not working yet and the neighbours were nervous because there was a water leak that was immediately fixed before their eyes, not without the implication of panic plastered on their foreheads, I finally put the dinner in the oven and waited patiently for the meal that would give me superhuman strength to climb my way to heaven. After more lively dialogue we decided to leave. My wife usually drives because I have driving phobia and can only be summoned in situations of dire need in case someone in distress needs help. In a nutshell, if you’re dying, I’ll drive.

With GPS in hand we readied for the road trip to the klatresenter (the place of boulders). Suddenly my mother-in-law calls and the phone is busy with the GPS because the one in the car isn’t updated and we didn’t want to drive over the mountains but take the tunnels instead. I messed up the buttons because touch screens were invented for accidental taps and I’m still from the time when pressing buttons expressed intent. “I don’t want to talk with her now, “ my wife declares, “reject the call!!!!” I tried, but there wasn’t any digital red button on the screen, just a green rectangle over the GPS and a myriad of words I wasn’t able to read in passing. I just closed the window and chose to believe the call was gone. “It’s still there!!!” I tried my best to look it up but the phone wasn’t giving any sign of an ongoing call. It disappeared. I opened all the tabs and it was gone and transferred to the car’s computer. God, don’t make me describe all this because I don’t know what happened or what I did wrong. After a while, I assertively said that I wanted relaxation so we could drive safely. With call or no call it’s not like she was able to hear us, right? (She wasn’t.)

We arrived at the place and couldn’t find the right building. There was a complex of concrete blocks that housed companies and offices. We parked near the dentist practitioners. On the opposite side was a Barry’s with loud music and voices coming from the inside. It’s the place where people go for exorcisms – not our thing. After calling the klatresenter we were guided to the right place, around the complex, passing by another establishment where people have fun jumping on trampolines. I tried to shove aside all visions of nightmarish leaps of faith and broken necks. Finally at our destination, we entered the place and the reception was also a cafeteria. It was cosy and we were welcomed by two very smiley individuals and another, not so smiley one, showing signs of not wanting to be there. It was our instructor. We introduced ourselves and she asked if we wanted to start right away considering that we were early? Were we? Well, that’s a first! We told her we would wait and get ourselves ready. We used that time to grab a pair of shoes and see the place. Not a lot of people were there, everyone seemed skilled and welcoming. It was obvious we didn’t belong but I didn’t feel like I was just landing from Sirius. The relaxed atmosphere made me feel relaxed too, despite the idea of trying a new activity, something I never tried before. It wasn’t a big place with very high walls and it made me feel slightly reassured and less intimidated.

When the instructor showed up we were directed to an area with the easiest colours, where we could safely start. She gave us some tips and my wife went first, showing clear proof of courage and might. She did well, and then it was my turn. I also did well, first try, using my arms to raise my body, not entirely aware of where my legs were. I used intuition and strength. Then another time, then another. There were a lot of those easy routes, some reached higher than others and I enjoyed reaching the highest boulder and then climbing back down. The instructor told us she also prefers to climb back down instead of falling down on purpose due to the higher risk of back, knee or arm injury. However, in case we fall, it is recommended to bring our hands close to our chest and let ourselves fall. “Also, pay attention to other people climbing in the same area, especially above you, in case they fall over you.” Visions of leaps of faith and broken necks.

After what appeared to be one hour tops, my wife got tired. Her legs weren’t responding so well and she looked extremely happy but exhausted. It was to be expected as we haven’t been exercising, much less doing something like this. I could still go a little more. There was a wall where the boulders were a ways apart from each other. I pulled myself up and easily climbed it. I could safely conclude that I was ready for the easiest parts without much effort; it was only a matter of training until I was ready for higher difficulties, just like in video games. What I wasn’t expecting was the quality of my tendons in contrast with the quality of my muscles. When I looked down, a small bump on the inner side of my forearm was already showing and I was slowly feeling every connector tissue compressing against every muscular fibre inside my right forearm. I had a choice right then and there. Either I could play the hero of my story and keep climbing until I was really tired or I could go home and take care of an obvious case of inflammation and come back another day. I decided for the latter because I’m an adult, albeit imperfect.

My wife’s left arm ghosted her, and her legs were shaking when she climbed down. I didn’t notice mine were also in the same messy state although it would have been a fun sight, were I been able to select a third person view only to see my thin feet shaking like the tail of our cat when he’s angry. I mentioned what appeared to be one hour doing this. It wasn’t. We were at it for only half an hour of a two-hour course. After this extremely awkward realisation we had to say we were done. The instructor told us we beat the record of less time travelled in the boulders. People say so many things when they don’t know what to say. In any case, despite the obvious lack of a good build for the sport, we managed to climb! For 30 minutes we raised our bodies in artificial walls and didn’t fall or struggle that much! Two ladies who like reading and knitting and never leave the house did the unthinkable. I call it a win! When we arrived home, I put some ice on my swollen arm, and it worked like a charm. A few more climbs and I wouldn’t be typing silly things about myself for the internet to see. Now the pain, the real pain, will come tomorrow, or maybe not. Maybe it was just tendons and I’ll be relaxed, feeling that I used my body for something more than a vessel for a poor functioning brain.

I was rereading the book “Arte e Beleza na Estética Medieval” by Umberto Eco, edited by Editorial Presenca in 1989 (EU Portuguese edition). The title in English is “Art and Beauty in the Middle Ages” but when citing the book I'm using my translation unless stated otherwise. It's a slow-paced reread that I've been doing. Umberto Eco has always been my favorite for studies about the Middle Ages and semiotics. Finding more than one of his books in our literature lists at the university was to be expected. “Art and Beauty...” was one of those books. It works more or less like a guide with the most fundamental concepts on aesthetics coupled with a variety of sources to pave the way for further study. There must be better and much more comprehensive sources by now. Everything changes. The reason why I'm still so attached to these books is purely emotional because it comes from a time I'm still longing for. I'm not the same person, I don't have the same life, I'm not surrounded by the same things, but I still have the same nature.

I was reading a section about the Chartres school and found an excerpt of a poem in Latin that goes like this:

O Dei proles genitrixque rerum. vinculum mundi, stabilisque, nexus, gemma terrenis, speculum caducis, lucifer orbis. Pax, amor, virtus, regimen, potestas, ordo, lex, finis, via, dux, origo, vita, lux splendor, species, figura, Regula mundi.

Alain the Lille (Alanus ab Insulis) (1128 – c. 1202) De Planctu Naturae, ed. N. Häring, Spoleto, Centro Italiano di Studi sull'Alto Medioevo, 1978

It's one of the primary sources cited in the book on page 49. The poem was followed by a Portuguese translation and I got stuck in the word lucifer which was translated the same as lux. The person who translated the translation from Italian (the original “Art and beauty...” is written in Italian) chose to use the same word – luz – to translate lucifer and lux. Since I don't live in a place where I can go to the library and easily find Latin sources and romance languages, I had to search online. A possible translation for lucifer that isn't Lucifer, the angel, is estrela d'alva – morning star – with reference to the planet Venus and it's seldomly used, at least with that wording. After a while I found what I was looking for. Lucifer: that brings light (que traz a luz), that gives (or reveals?) clarity (que dá claridade), luminous (luminoso). I very badly need to read this translation in Italian but I'm going to leave you with an English translation by Douglas M. Moffat that, accurate or not, shows the beauty of this poem:

O offspring of God, mother of all things, Bond and firm chain of the universe Jewel of earth, mirror to mortality, Light-bringer of the world! Peace, love, virtue, government, power, Order, law, end, way, light, source, Life, glory, splendor, beauty, form, Pattern of the world!

I may have seen a number of English translations and couldn't decide which one to choose. The Italian translation I was looking for is locked behind a paywall. But if the title De Planctu Naturae appears often translated as The Complaint of Nature in English, in Italian it's instead called, in direct translation, The Lament of Nature. The frustration I have to deal with for now is that the Portuguese translation of the excerpt could have been reworked, but it still depicts what touched me about this poem (which is much longer that what's written here). Umberto Eco selected this strophe to express the organic sense of nature in contrast with static mathematical principles, where the immanence of the Son is the organizing principle of aesthetic harmony, the Father is the effective cause (causa efectiva), the Holy Spirit is the final cause (causa final) – amor et connexio, anima mundi. (Eco, p. 49).

What is accuracy in translation after all? With spiritual texts and prayers in Latin I prefer to go for perceived meaning instead of exact meaning or, say, a translation with literary flourishing. However, when reading these works from an academic and study perspective is when my hands are tied. I may (or may not) know that it means, as in what it refers to. What is the spiritual link that connects the soul of the world? What lies in the root of nature's primordial force? What's the sense we make of it and its connection to God's creation?

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By a stroke of luck I found another translation. The book “Art and Beauty...” is available online for your perusing. Let's go to page 34 of this translation by Hugh Bredin and see how he nailed the poem (spoiler alert: he did):

Oh child of God, mother of creation, Both the universe and its stable link, Bright gem of those on earth, mirror for mortals, Light-bearer for the world: Peace, love, virtue, guide, power, Order, law, end, way, leader, source, Life, light, splendor, beauty, form, Rule of the world.

In the Portuguese edition species is translated as aspect (aspecto). There's a reason for it. Species can mean beauty, yes, but its meaning is not only confined to value. It can be aspect, appearance, look, exterior. It can also be beauty! And, let's face it, between splendor and form isn't beauty so vibrant?

The light-bringer, the light-bearer presupposes an agent: the one that brings the light, the one that bears the light. Can the light be brought or borne with the passive voice? What was Alain thinking? Did he mean the so-called offspring of God or the children of God as agents? The progeny of God born from the origin (female/ genitrix) of creation, the one who brings light, stability, bond (vinculum), the one that unveils the world (orbis) and brings the world to light? Or the creative nature of all things from which the offspring generated? Well, we could be here all day but if Umberto Eco moved on to the next point, so will we.

Just to close the subject, De Planctu Naturae is, to put it simply, an allegorical depiction of the Creation, the order of the universe and its disorder. Alberto Bartòla on the article “Filosofia, Teologia, Poesia nell 'Planctu Naturae' e nell 'Anticlaudianus' de Alano di Lilla” page 233, wrote the following:

Nella seconda scena della prima parte, attraverso un lungo monologo, il personaggio feminille svela sua vera identità e definisce il ruolo che assume rispetto al Creatore e nel contesto de tutta la creazione: ella è la vicaria Dei, la mediatrice dei disegni della divina volontà sulla terra.

“In the second scene of the first half, there's a long monologue, the female character reveals her true identity and defines the assumed role in relation to the Creator and in the context of all creation: she is the vicar of God, the mediator of the divine will's design on earth.” – My extremely direct translation. It gives some clues on Who in fact is our secret agent!

So simple. A blank page. I couldn't ask for a better interface. Look how these words populate the page so magically. It's a sight to behold, considering the clutter we are subjected to in other online spaces.

I was a bit unsure about what to write here. I created this blog as a backup space in case my WordPress blog went out of commission for some reason. Usually the reasons aren't communicated from the get-go and they urge you to take action in case you wish to recover all content you no longer have access to. It's confusing and I wasn't prepared to take in the idea that what I write in platforms owned by others doesn't actually belong to me. Pretty basic concept I was blissfully unaware of.

I'm still trying to figure out how this blog works, so this first post will be shorter and against the rules, or maybe not. Having less options for customization doesn't mean I get way faster at figuring things out. I can no longer give the excuse of my age because there's many people my age who are way better than me at navigating online platforms and using software. If there's one thing I've learned when I started using Mastodon was that I must be extremely techno-stupid. Mea culpa.

One day I told my wife: “A day will come when I'm going to get banned from Facebook or some other very well-known network and it will be for some stupid reason involving spam filters or because I chose the wrong react emoticon or something. Mark my words.” So yeah, let's wait and see. I can say that I'm a proud owner of a Mastodon account for almost (or probably exactly) one year and nothing happened yet, I haven't offended anyone and didn't crash the instance. I also never got angry, and that is a first.

I could start by saying where the name of this blog came from but I'll keep it for another time. It's not important. What's more important is that I'm in good company here – of this I'm absolutely sure – and I hope to fit well. I really do. What I'm not going to use this blog for is writing about video games, because I already do it somewhere else, unless in comes from an ongoing stream of consciousness. I could write about books but in order to do that I have to read them, and many other activities are just in the way, sometimes my own thoughts are in the way.

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I've been using Discord a bit more often to connect with other bloggers. For some reason that I'm yet to understand I can't seem to like the chat. It surely is great to exchange tips about video games and other hobbies but I find it very difficult to keep a conversation going. It's like I go there, check the latest chats, send one or two comments and that's it. I struggle to communicate with people and I feel that chatting amplifies this shortcoming. I managed to keep it going once, with one person, and it was actually pretty cool. For a brief moment I was thrown back to my IRC times, where the chat window was brimming with activity and people constantly cycled between private and public chat. At the time, we had about five or more private chat windows and then just shitposted on general chat. It was fun, and we could always get to know people.

Now on Discord we have profiles that say “Ask to DM” and I wonder what that means. DM used to be the default so I think people must have changed. Or the internet changed. And where are we supposed to ask? If it's a private message wouldn't announcing ourselves in public defeat the purpose? “Illustrious person, could I please send you a private message about a given situation I'd very much like to discuss with you in private because it only concerns you and I don't see any reason to go off-topic in this general chat?” My goodness. The best course of action, I think, is to refrain from DMs altogether and react only if someone sends one to me. I miss IRC though. Some people were crap but at least we learned first-hand why.

I know why it is so. I know what trolling and abuse are and I've also been on the receiving end of it. I just wanted to rant a little and dwell in my own thoughts for a brief moment. There's a Norwegian expression that I enjoy very much: å ha mye på hjertet. It means, in direct translation, to have a lot in our heart, meaning that we have a lot to process, to communicate and to put out there. It can also mean that we have a lot of opinions about a subject. So let's relax a little. I think this blank page is the best place to start.