Showing posts with label Black holes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black holes. Show all posts

Sunday, March 24, 2024

Turning suns into black holes

I have pinched my title (only changing the capitalization so as to conform to the FTND style guide) from William Wright's February 29 post "Turning Suns into Black Holes." The post included this photo William's son had taken, in which "Through the magic of the VTech Kidizoom camera, the sun was transformed into either a black hole or a solar eclipse":


This evening I was trying to declutter my desk a bit, sorting through some stacks of books, and I ended up picking up and flipping through an old paperback I had found at a junk shop in Taichung some months ago: a 1976 English edition of Antonin Artaud's The Peyote Dance, published by The Noonday Press at 19 Union Square West, New York. (In the Tarot, 19 is the number of the Sun.)


I discovered something I hadn't noticed when I bought the book: Glued to the inside of the back cover was a little handmade envelope made of folded blue paper, and inside it turned out to be a Fujifilm Instax photo on a rather familiar theme:


Nothing is written on the photo or envelope or in the book, so we will never know who took this photo, made a special envelope for it, and glued it to the back cover of The Peyote Dance, or why.

A further coincidence is that on March 20 I myself had stuck a photo inside this very book. The ophthalmologist (see "Eye drops on 113/3/20") had given me a photo of my own bloodshot eye to take home, and not knowing what else to do with it, I had stuck it between the pages of one of the many books on my desk, figuring it could serve as a bookmark if and when I got around to reading it. Unbeknownst to me, the book I chose just happened to be the one that already had a photo hidden inside.


The last pages of The Peyote Dance, just before the envelope with the "black hole sun" photo, are devoted to a poem by the author, composed in Ivry-sur-Seine on February 16, 1948, called "Tutuguri: The Rite of Black Night." The opening lines are as follows:

Dedicated to the eternal glory of the sun Tutuguri is a black rite.
The Rite of black night and of the eternal death of the sun.
No, the sun will never come back

Is it this poem, with its blackened-sun imagery, that inspired the book's previous owner to provide it with a little pocket for a photo of a blacked-out sun? There's no way to know, but it seems as good a guess as any.

Monday, February 5, 2024

The pillar of blackness

Eclipses are in the sync stream. Fellow synchromystic Chris Knowles recently posted about how the upcoming total solar eclipse will pass right over Eagle Pass, Texas, a place that's in the news a lot these days. Apparently it will also pass right over the area of Upstate New York where Joseph Smith had his First Vision and published the Book of Mormon, and will take place on April 8, just two days after the anniversary of the founding of the LDS Church. Followers of Denver Snuffer, a prominent fringe Mormon, are therefore planning a conference there to coincide with the eclipse. I know this because William Wright just posted about it in "The Heavens speaking through eclipses," including this image in his post:


When I was a missionary, we memorized and often had to recite an excerpt from the canonical account of Joseph Smith's First Vision, beginning with the line "I saw a pillar of light." This image, though, seems to show the opposite: a pillar of darkness, caused by the eclipse.

This idea of a "pillar of blackness" made me think of an incoherent story written by one of my brothers when he was very young and preserved in a collection of Tychonievich juvenilia known for historical reasons as the Scarlet Notebook. Here's how it begins, and if you can understand what's going on, you're a smarter man than I am, Gunga Din. Note that the name Wooma rhymes with melanoma, not with Montezuma. You should also know that this story has achieved undisputed classic status in my family. We quote from it as if it were Monty Python.

Wooma was going to a meeting. It was for L.L.L.L. (light, light, light, light) wizards. Wooma was an L.L.L.L.T. (light, light, light, light turquoise) wizard.

When he got to the meeting, he found the cause. The L.L.L.L.L. (a light, light, light, light, light) wizard directed.

"The black wizard is back!" L. said. "He is preparing to ash-storm us!"

"I smoke his cave!" said Emisto, arching smoke from hand to hand.

Erik suddenly darted out the door! Emisto and Enel followed! Then everybody followed -- or at least they tried. A darkness swallowed them. L. lit the room, but darkness continued to get stronger! So did the light! Finally, everyone except Wooma and L. left.

Then a pillar of blackness appeared. Out of the pillar stepped Blander the Black! Death shot from Blander's hand -- a blinding light in return!

A black dragon was made from the roof. Fire flared from its mouth. The building was in flames! Frantically, Wooma turned the flames to turquoise! Flames returned but were turned back to turquoise!

Meanwhile, L. had blinded Blander, and Blander killed L.!

Then the dragon shot, but as it came out of its mouth, it turned to ash! Enraged, the dragon blasted fire at Blander the Black, but Blander vanished into his pillar of blackness.

The building erupted in flames. Wooma turned turquoise for an hour. When the hour was over, so was the fire.

The place was burnt, as were the four closest cottages. The dragon was puffing uselessly at a heap of ash. Wooma looked at his land. It was black. His orchard was gone, his corn was gone, and his home was gone.

He told the dragon to take his land. Then he sat down and slept. When he awoke, the dragon was eating his land!

He went to Emisto's house to have breakfast. Then he set off for Eankerdnosh. He was going to try for king's wizard. The king was called Deornoch Knod.

It goes on like that for a few more pages. I vividly remember the first time I heard this story, when it was read aloud by the author at a student literary club. A friend and I were finally asked to leave because we couldn't stop laughing. We did make a valiant effort to control ourselves, successfully getting through the part where Wooma "hid by changing into a turquoise chair cover" during his job interview and the part where "he clapped his hands together and they both disappeared," but when "he frankly turned all the grass around the entrance to turquoise," we lost it. That "frankly" was the straw that broke the camel's back. For me, the real story ends with Wooma frankly turning the grass to turquoise. Everything after that I read only much later, when it was typed up for inclusion in the Scarlet Notebook, and it therefore feels less canonical.

As I've mentioned before, William Wright has connected eclipses with black holes on his blog. After seeing the pillar of blackness in the Remnant Eclipse Conference logo and thinking about Blander the Black, I randomly decided to run a web search for blander the black. I don't know what I was expecting to get, but what I got was black holes:


Another sync: In "Wolves," the post immediately before "The Heavens speaking through eclipses," William Wright recounts a childhood dream about a monster -- likely a wolf -- on its way to his house:

I began to move very steadily forward, and I was aware that I was moving toward the house.  I could see it in the distance, and I was heading for it.  I became aware that I was seeing things through the eyes of whatever it is that was coming for me, and I was scared.  My vision began to shift between the house itself, and back through the eyes of whatever it was that was coming, and it was getting closer and closer.

Though I never saw whatever it was in the dream, I have always associated it with a wolf.

In "The Heavens speaking," William links to an old Salt Lake Tribune article about Denver Snuffer and his movement. I followed the link and read the article on my phone, and at the end I found this:


In case you missed it, wolves are on their way.

One last sync note: The first I ever heard of Denver Snuffer (about whom I still know very little) was in a comment on this blog by Ben Pratt, dated April 6, 2021. The second mention of Snuffer by anyone I know was the post by William Wright, about a conference planned for April 6, 2024. April 6 as an anniversary is a big thing among Mormons; besides being the date the Church was formally organized, it is also held by many to be the true date of both Christmas and Easter.

Saturday, February 3, 2024

The universal eclipse

Spotted on the street this afternoon:


This eclipse imagery has come up a lot both on my blog and on William Wright's. Specifically, I have had references to l'éclipse universelle -- the universal eclipse -- in "17 years ago our eyes were opened" and "One and forty-four." The jacket says "BLACK" with the letter A turned upside down. Anyone who has taken any symbolic logic will recognize the turned-A symbol as what is called the universal quantifier, usually verbalized as "for all" -- e.g. ∀xPx is read as "for all x, Px," i.e. everything is P. This universality or all-ness is reinforced by "BLACK IS EVERYTHING" at the bottom of the jacket.

"WHITE & BLACK" is also relevant, as William Wright has connected eclipse imagery with black holes and their opposite counterparts, white holes.

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