#but the more i thought about ken and rome in the last few months the more i feel like their falling out might be more of a shock to us

[cakebatteronabrickwall]

My opinion on the hug kinda kept changing until recently, but I might have reached a definitive reading.

So, first of all: season 4 boils down the finale to be Shiv vs Ken and that is a good thing (!) it makes the most sense, mainly because Roman tends to go along with things. He can't win his father's favor anymore, so he tries with his siblings and, by extension, he tries holding on to Logan as long as possible by doing that. That's his objective. Shiv's thing is proving herself as the most viable candidate. She can't prove it to Logan, so she will do it for anyone else. But Kendall's thing used to be positioning himself against Logan, and since that can't happen anymore, he becomes Logan. Or tries to, bear with me.

Roman brings up Kendall "big brothering" him in ep. 8, but it's very prevalent throughout season 4. But it is also very reminiscent of what their father used to do; keeping them very close and making them feel trusted only to become violent (in some form) when questioned in his authority. Clearest example is Ken feeling the tides turn against him and attacking his brother.

But the hug comes before that, and there are two very important aspects to this--

1) It is cruel and I don't think it matters if you think Roman wanted/needed it because, crucially, Kendall's endgoal with the violence isn't within that line of thinking. He is asserting his dominance (as seen by the second physical attack later).

2) BUT much more importantly: imo, the hug starts with the intention of comfort (!!!) and only ends in violence. This is Ken at his most Logan; a last goodbye to his brother from his father by combining violence and a loving embrace. He learned from the best.

Though in the end, what it comes down to, is this: Does Roman push his wound into the shoulder? Does Kendall press him against it? Both. You don't get Roman's "i hate you" without Kendall's "i love you". It's both. It will always be both, but I will say this-- hate can't come without love, but love can very much stand on its own. So, even if it's both, one of the two weighs heavier. 4 seasons of story have shown how one weighs heavier, even if it's unintentional.

#i've written a lot about shiv and roman's relationship because a) it makes me hopeful and b) their falling out (if you can call it that) #feels very minor and like a non-event #but the more i thought about ken and rome in the last few months the more i feel like their falling out might be more of a shock to us #and therefore feels much worse than it really is #like kendall is never indicated to be quite that violent and calculating in his violence BUT that might be the point #does it feel shocking and are you tempted to say out of character? good! it's kendall doing logan! it IS weird! #consider this my service to the kendallgirls i guess #because kendall and roman at the birthday party was also really fucking bad and two episodes later they are comforting each other #roman “betrayed” ken at the vote in season 1 and then picked him up from the drug den no bad blood #they are really at odds in the beginning of season 2 as well and look at how they end it! #succession #succession season 4 #kendall roy #roman roy #shiv roy #logan roy

[ogcosmicfragment]

Rome, August 2025

(or, the ficlet literally no one asked for 🤷🏻‍♀️)

-

You landed in Sicily, just like someone else had done so many years ago; visited the Temples Valley under the scorching August’s sun, taking turns at rubbing coconut scented sunscreen on your freckled noses, sharing smiles and quick but tender kisses, there, in that land that had seen it all before. You then made your way up, with a quick ferry to Sorrento, rented a car and drove through the Amalfi Coast. You fucked and made love at the same time, a little sweet, a little hard. Calling out your names, I’m yours. All mine? All yours. Your pants and moans and groans echoing through the walls of your rented villetta . The tastes of fresh seafood pasta and limoncello were still on your tongues, shared and re-shared, carried around your naked bodies via languorous laps and licks. Armie’s hip tasted of antipasto di mare, while your tummy had a citrus note to it. Down both of your groins, your two essences mixed with the taste of italian delicacies.

A few days later you said goodbye to Naples and were welcomed by the deserted streets of Rome. Everyone seemed to be in vacanza, on vacation. You both felt like you owned the city, the museums, the churches, only some resilient tourists here and there. One of your last days in Rome, Armie brought you to one of his favorite places in the city, the Spanish Steps, managed to arrive there at the golden hour, the massive cascade of warm sunshines bathing the piazza in a sophisticated game of shadows and lights. It was in that moment that you looked him in the eyes, raptured: there was something of a mesmerizing nature in the way his hair and his face were catching the sunlight.

Then you focused on the multitude of shades in his eyes, stupidly, you thought you knew all of them by now, after almost ten years, and yet. Every time it was like looking at someone else, your very own - ever changing - chameleon. The long line of his nose, so straight and elegant,greek. That’s what Armie had always been known for: a Greek God made man, Hollywood eye candy, Barbie’s Ken. But you knew, oh if you knew, that there was so much more than that. More and more. He’d been kind and nice to you since the very beginning on set, with pleasantries had come affection, affection attracted trust and openness, the constant and unshakable feeling of having peaked. That’s it, Timmy and Armie, each one of you has met the best person, your person. Now what?

You managed to catch only few words of a sentence, “When we go back home.. Harper, Ford.. Next project...”

Armie, Armie.

Your, Armie. Always projected in the future, always thinking ahead. You seized up to him, took his hand, intertwined your fingers and mumbled “Let’s get a dog,Armie”

“What? Another?”

“Well, not another. One that’s gonna be just mine and yours, ours”

“But Archie is ours as, well, kind of...” he had trailed off.

“Yes, exactly, kind of” and you’d managed to put on your best french pout yet, crossing your arms around your chest, almost bracing yourself.

“What is that you’re really asking for T,mm?” a smirk on his face because he had already saw through you.

Of course he had.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I, eh.. I just wanted a dog.. yeah.”

“Just that?”

“... I, uh.. yeah, I guess so”

“Liar”

“Who? Moi? “

“Oui, you!”

“How so?”

“You left eyebrow twitched, it always twitches when you’re not telling me stuff!”

“I.. I? Don’t tell you stuff?! Says the guy who sold his Audi and came back with a minivan without saying anything! And my brows don’t twitch thankyousomuch”

“Ok. First, it took me like, 10 years to get me a freaking minivan. So, suck it up. We’re keeping it,” a smirk on his face, “Second, come on Timmy Tim... tell meee” he dragged on the last e in a faux exasperated way and kissed you right there, on the Spanish Steps and then added “...and third, your french brow does twitch when you’re hiding something from me, or something’s bothering you. What’s bothering you, babe?”

You then needed all the courage and strength you had in you to say something as big as the bomb you were about to drop.

So you took a step closer, latched your arms around his neck, lay your check on his shoulder and whispered straight into his ear, without looking at his face, as to not get distracted.

“Armie, I.. uh”

“Mmm, go on”

“I.. want. I want a baby, Armie. Would love to have a baby, with you. Well, not technically, of course. But you know what I mean?! With your middle name and my surname, or, I don’t know, my great uncle’s name and your surname. A baby to raise together, to make us a family. I know, I know, we are already one big family with Harper and Ford and you know I love them as they were my own, but this would be different. They’ll be the best big sister and brother a baby could ask for, they’ll teach stuff to our baby. You’ll teach me how to change diapers and get the bottles ready; you’ll tell me not to worry when the baby’s not going to want to eat all the food, because yes, sometimes it does look gross, I’ll teach you the lullaby my grandma used to sing to me and Pauline in french, you gonna fuck up all the words and I’ll love you even more; we’ll fight because if it’s a girl she’s going to be a daddies’ girl and we’re going to fight because I’m the one who’s gonna spoil her the most; if it’s a boy you’ll want to take him to baseball or football while I’d want him to play basketball or soccer. You’ll want him to play the guitar, I’d love for him to play the piano. We’re gonna fight to get the first word out of him or her, I want to share my worries with you when the baby will be teething or gets tummy aches. I want everything, the good and the bad sides, all of it. Laughters and tears. With you.”

Only after you finished you realized how strong his hold was around your body, how wet were both of your cheeks from the mixed tears.

“Tim... I.. “ he cleared his throat to keep the lump in there at bay, the one that was threatening a new wave of tears.

“Armie, I ... uh”

“I thought you’d never ask,Tim!Tim. Tim. Tim”

He peppered your face, punctuating every mention of your name with a kiss.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

You made your way back to the hotel room in half the time it took you to reach there, fucked your brains out in the most tender ways, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear. Spent the rest of the night cuddling on the king size bed, trailing each other’s profile with your fingers, then your tongues, and by the time you decided to stop you were both hard again. You made love to him, both on your sides. His broad back to your chest, one of your hand spread on his chest hair, the other on his tummy, holding him there. While whispering to his ear he took your wrist, the one with that special and old bracelet he gave you, brought it to his lips to kiss it, turned his head to the side and whispered “I hope it’s a girl”, almost like a wish.

Quindici blissful months later the most perfect of the babies, with your dark hair and green eyes, was born. Bellissima.

Her name is not for us to know.

-

ok, this happened because I was watching The Man from UNCLE (kudos if you recognize the Spanish Steps scene) and while going through IG stories, I came across a beautiful sunset from Bordighera. and here we are, back at square one! 🤦🏻‍♀️😜

xx - S. ♥️

#armie x timmy #ficlet #yes #the one nobody asked for #armie hammer #timothée chalamet #my fic #rome #spanish steps

[popularmolds]

Best rap, 2017

In 2007, I thought I was very fast. That fall, I was one of the top sophomores at the Minnesota high school cross country state championships, which, believe it or not, are very competitive as far as high school cross country state championships go. Then it was winter. There’s no indoor track season in Minnesota; I played hockey, like I had for my entire life to that point, but I also ran 60 miles a week in toques and gloves and terrible things called “wind briefs.” I got ambitious and decided that in the spring, I wanted to be the fastest 15-year-old in the state, the Midwest, maybe the country. 

But in the first week of outdoor track, in the middle of a mile repeat workout we were running on the sidewalk (there was snow on the track), I felt bones splinter. There were stress fractures up and down my left tibia. 

Every afternoon for the next twelve weeks, I had to find a ride from my high school down to a suburban YMCA, chosen because it had a reliably deserted pool. I needed to get in some sort of cardio with zero impact on my bones. If you’ve never seen someone water run, it looks like a recurring nightmare playing out under fluorescent lights: a skeletally thin person in the water, upright, making all the movements he or she would make on the track, but moving impossibly slow, back and forth, end to end. It’s like quicksand. I would sweat and strain and grit my teeth, but I was barely moving. 

A couple weeks into my muggy purgatory, my friend Collin burned me a CD of an obscure album he’d found on a Wordpress blog. It was called Brokelore and was by someone named Grip Grand––clearly from the Bay, but we couldn’t find anything else about him. 

It blew me away. I listened to it every day, to and from the Y, in headphones or out of those primitive aux hookups that plugged into the cassette decks in my friends’ cars. He sounded gruff and grizzled, but we had no idea what he looked like. (Eventually, Collin found a short interview Grip had done with a blog, but we assumed the press photo was of the blogger, not the rapper. Sorry, Grip.) 

The record’s mostly self-produced; the beats have a little grit and a lot of warmth. Grip’s voice is tough, but elastic enough to bounce and bend and let the humor through. Grip is quick and witty, but threads the record with these incredibly earnest love letters to rap: "96 Tears” is an extended lyrical exercise, “Hip-Hop Classic” is the sound of someone pounding his fist on a computer desk, searching. There’s a song with Percee P (”Paper Cup”) and a song where Grip thanks Percee P for dropping that verse (”Showtime (That’s Entertainment)”). There’s “Handle That,” which was probably conceived as a parody of popular rap styles at the time but got mutated along the way and sounds like a good-faith alien transmission; there’s distortion and vocal modulation and lines like “While you pretend to be sick like Ferris Bueller / Grip Grand drop gems like a careless jeweler.” 

But it’s called Brokelore. This was a few months before the financial collapse; this was Oakland and San Francisco and the shadow of the early tech boom. Sometimes Grip and his Rec League comrades broach this with a light touch, cashing bad checks and skirting tax forms. (One of the album’s highlights is the remix of “Poppin’ Pockets,” where Grip and A.G. (!) rap joyously about having absolutely zero money.) Then there are the graver moments: “Out of Service” is a half-dreamed conversation with a factory worker who’s in limbo at a bus stop; it’s tearjerking but never treacly. “Tomorrow” is sorrowful. 

And then there’s “Love/Drama” which––this is not an exaggeration––is one of the most deeply felt rap songs I’ve ever heard. It’s structured as a letter back to a writer who ripped his last record, Welcome to Broakland. An artist responding to criticism looks defensive––and that’s the point. In the space of a few bars, the song unspools into a catalog of Grip’s deepest fears as an artist.

“My whole albums’s a jack: “Impeach the President?”  Yo, how done is that?  Tribute to early rap? DIY ethic?  No, a piss-poor producer—take my name off the credits.”

The song wraps up with a venomous couplet:“You’re so astute brah, every minute flaw, you heard it / Can’t wait to hear your album, it must be perfect.” But he’s not brushing off the critic. “Love/Drama” isn’t about brushing off a detractor, it’s about scratching and clawing and stretching $10 in groceries for a whole week, pouring yourself into a record only for it to be...fine. The kicker, then, is that Grip Grand internalized all of that and made a masterpiece. 

I say all that to say this: I don’t know if I would have found Brokelore today. Ten years after the fact, it’s ostensibly my job to find and write criticism of rap music, including obscure releases like this. But the economics of the media industry are strange: while it seems clear that people still want to discover new music, it’s difficult to get anybody to click on articles that present it. Music discovery has moved mostly to the curated playlists at streaming sites (so, radio) and there are fewer and fewer places willing to publish full-scale album reviews for artists who are untested or unsigned. I don’t spend enough time in pools. 

Of course, there are still massive communities of rap fans who dig for new material. But as it becomes more difficult to make a living covering it––and with the collapse of the blog world, which was invaluable for fans and artists in the mid- and late-2000s––there’s less time and attention given to smaller artists. Especially the kinds of time and attention that can be turned into money. (On that count, I physically recoil imagining how much bleaker the Bay Grip rendered on Brokelore has gotten.) 

The good news is that rap is in an exceptional place right now. There are vibrant underground scenes in cities across the country. In 2018, I’m resolving to take time, stay still, and appreciate rappers who would otherwise go uncovered. 

Notes/methodology: This list, obviously, includes both songs and albums. In most of the cases where either an album or a song from it could have made my top sixty, I chose whichever entry would rank higher, i.e.- I think “The Story of O.J.” is one of the ten best rap things from this year, while 4:44 as an album would rank a couple dozen spots lower. There are exceptions. “We Ball” would probably be among my top ten entries, but I wanted to give a nod to Meek Mill’s album because it hasn’t left rotation since it came out. Similar case with Boosie: “Webbie I Remember” could easily be in my top five, but BooPac should be on everyone’s radar, even if it’s ninety minutes. Slow down.

60. YG, “Pop It, Shake It” 59. Smooky MarGielaa, “Stay 100” 58. YBN Nahmir, “Rubbin Off The Paint” 57. Freddie Gibbs –– You Only Live 2wice 56. Muja Messiah & Roc Marciano –– Saran Wrap 55. Frosty Da Snowmann, “Oh My Gawd” 54. Wiki –– No Mountains in Manhattan 53. Greg Grease –– Down So Long 52. Chris $pencer, “Shark Wrestling” 51. Chief Keef, “Can You Be My Friend” 50. P.O.S –– chill, dummy 49. 2 Chainz –– Pretty Girls Like Trap Music 48. Young Dolph, “100 Shots” 47. Roc Marciano –– Rosebudd’s Revenge 46. Bbymutha, “Roses” 45. Sahbabii, “Pull Up wit ah Stick” 44. Nef the Pharaoh, “Bling Blaow” 43. J Hus –– Common Sense 42. 21 Savage –– Issa Album 41. Cardi B, “Bodak Yellow” 40. Deniro Farrar, “Can’t Touch Me” 39. Lor Jugg & Bandhunta Izzy, “Back At It” 38. G Herbo –– Humble Beast 37. billy woods, “Police Came To My Show” 36. French Montana, “Unforgettable” f/ Swae Lee 35. Rich Homie Quan –– Back to the Basics 34. Lil B –– Black Ken 33. Nipsey Hussle, “Rap Niggas” 32. A$AP Ferg, “Plain Jane” 31. Young Thug –– Beautiful Thugger Girls 30. Migos –– CULTURE 29. Playboi Carti, “Magnolia” 28. Why Khaliq –– The Mustard Seed 27. Snoop Dogg –– Neva Left 26. C Struggs, “Go to Jesus” 25. Lor Choc, “Fast Life” 24. RJ, “Blammer” 23. Tee Grizzley, “First Day Out” 22. OMB Peezy, “Lay Down” 21. Boosie –– BooPac 20. Meek Mill –– Wins & Losses 19. Kodak Black, “Patty Cake” 18. Drakeo –– Cold Devil 17. Don Trip & Starlito –– Step Brothers THREE 16. milo –– who told you to think??!!?!?!?! 15. 03 Greedo –– Money Changes Everything; Purple Summer 03; First Night Out 14. DJ Quik & Problem –– Rosecrans 13. Nocando, “1998″ 12. Goldlink, “Crew” f/ Shy Glizzy & Brent Faiyaz 11. Mach-Hommy –– Haitian Body Odor 10. Lil Uzi Vert, “XO Tour Llif3″ 9. Jay-Z, “The Story of O.J.” 8. G Perico –– All Blue & 2 Tha Left 7. Kendrick Lamar –– DAMN. 6. Tay-K, “The Race” 5. NBA Youngboy, “No Smoke” 4. Future –– HNDRXX 3. Armand Hammer –– ROME 2. Creek Boyz, “With My Team” 1. Open Mike Eagle –– Brick Body Kids Still Daydream

#rap #hip-hop #hip hop #best rap #best rap 2017

[biointernet]

Masonic Hourglass

If thou takest time into thy affairs, it will allay and arrange all things. ― APOLLODORUS, attributed, Day's Collacon The past is a ghost, the future a dream and all we ever have is now. ― Bill Cosby Masonic Hourglass - a symbol of the third Degree of Freemasonry peculiar to the American Rite. - Source: MasonicDictionary.com

Masonic Hourglass Masonry is a unique institution that has been a major part of community life in America for over 250 years. Masonry, or more properly Freemasonry, is America's largest and oldest fraternity and one that continues to be an important part of many men's personal lives and growth. Many years ago in England it was described as "a system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols." It is a course of moral instruction using both allegories and symbols to teach its lessons. The legends and myths of the old stonecutters and Masons, many of them involved in building the great cathedrals of Europe, have been woven into an interesting and effective way to portray moral truths. In Masonry, the old tools and ways of the Craftsmen are used to help dramatically portray those moral truths. Two examples are the 24-inch gauge and the common gavel. Just as the ruler is used to measure distance, the modern Mason uses it as a reminder to manage one of his most precious resources, time. And, as the gavel is used to shape stones, so it is also the symbol of the necessity for all of us to work to perfect ourselves. One modern definition is: "Freemasonry is an organized society of men, symbolically applying the principles of Operative Masonry and architecture to the science and art of character building." In other words, Masonry uses ageless methods and lessons to make each of us a better person.

The Hourglass, Hourglass History

Hourglass – measurement device Masonic Hourglass An hourglass (or sandglass, sand timer, or sand clock) is a device used to measure the intervals of time.

An emblem connected with the Third Degree, according to the Webb lectures, to remind us by the quick passage of its sands of the transitory nature of human life. As a Masonic symbol it is of comparatively modern date, but the use of the hourglass as an emblem of the passage of time is older than our oldest known rituals. Thus, in a speech before Parliament, in 1627, it is said: "We may dan dandle and play with the hour-glass that is in our power, but the hour will not stay for us; and an opportunity once lost cannot be regained." We are told in Notes and Queries (First Series, v, page 223) that in the early part of the eighteenth century it was a custom to inter an hour-glass with the dead, as an emblem of the sand of life being run out. There is in Sir John Soane's Museum, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London, a manuscript account book, of 1614- 41, once owned by Nicholas Stone, Mason to King James I and Charles I, which on the title page has the following written note: In time take time while time doth last, For time is no time wheel time is past.  A few sad and studious lines written in his Bible by Sir Falter Raleigh are found in Cayley's biography of him (volume in, chapter ix): E'en such is time! which takes in trust Our youth, our joys, and an we have And pays us naught but age and dust, Which, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days. And from which grave, and earth, and dust The Lord will raise me up, I trust. Longfellow, in his "Sand of the Desert in an Hour glass," has written thus: A handful of red sand from the hot clime Of Arab deserts brought Within the glass comes the spy of Time, The minister of Thought. An hour-glass is in the possession of the Lodge at Alexandria, Virginia, of which our Brother George Washington was Master. That old treasure, a measure of the flying moments, well exhibits the changing methods brought about in time. - Source: Mackey's Encyclopedia of Freemasonry

Masonic Hourglass HOUR GLASS AND SCYTHE In nearly all Masonic rituals in the United States, these two emblems of the third degree are explained in practically the form given by Thomas Smith Webb: “The Hour-Glass is an emblem of human life; behold! how swiftly the sands run, and how rapidly our lives are drawing to a close. We cannot, without astonishment, behold the little particles which are contained in this machine, how they pass away almost imperceptibly, and yet to our surprise, in the short space of an hour, they are all exhausted. Thus wastes man! today, he puts forth the tender leaves of hope; tomorrow, blossoms and bears his blushing honors which upon him; the next day comes a frost, which nips the shoot, and when he thinks his greatness is still aspiring, he falls, like autumn leaves, to enrich our mother earth. “The Scythe is an emblem of time, which cuts the brittle thread of life and launches us into eternity. Behold, what havoc the scythe of time makes amongst the human race; if by chance we should escape the numerous evils incident to childhood and youth, and with that health and vigor arrive to the years of manhood, yet withall we must soon be cut down by the all-devouring scythe of time, and be gathered into the land where our fathers are gone before us. Both these emblems seems to be inventions of the ingenious and resourceful American who left do tremendous an imprint upon our ceremonies. MacKensie, the English Masonic encyclopedist, says of the hour glass: “Used in the third degree by Webb - but not essential nor authorized in any way. Masonic Hourglass Of the scythe, he says: “Since the time of Webb, the scythe has been adopted in the American system of Freemasonry, as an emblem of the power of time in destroying the institutions of mankind. In England it is no regarded as of any typical meaning.” Woodford, in Kenning’s Encyclopedia, says: “Hour Glass - Said by some to be a Masonic symbol, Oliver inter alios, as an emblem of human life; but in our opinion, not strictly speaking so. Woodford does not mention the scythe. Mackey, (Clegg revised edition)b credits the hour glass to Webb and states: “As a Masonic symbol it is of comparatively modern date.” The familiar illustrations of these emblems, shown on many if not most Lodge charts, and in that collection of monstrosities which commercial companies have sold to confiding Lodges on lantern slides to illustrate the lectures, are based on the Doolittle pictures in the “True Masonic Chart” of Jeremy Cross. Here the scythe appears in the drawing of the marble monument, held under the arm of the very chubby Father Time, who is provided with a most substantial p[air of wings. It also appears as a separate illustration for the “scythe of time.” In the same quaint work the hour glass is illustrated with a pair of open wings. If young in Freemasonry, both scythe and hour glass are very old. Old Testament days knew the sickle; ancient Egypt had reaping knives. Just when the knife or sickle was curved into the familiar two-handed tool with the crooked handle is less important than that it was earl associated with a symbolic meaning, as an instrument for the reaping of humanity, the cutting off of life. Revelation 14-14 to 20 inclusive, is illustrative: “And I looked, and behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat like unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle. And another angel came out of the temple, crying with a loud voice to him that sat on the cloud, Thrust in thy sickle, and reap; for the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe. And he that sat on the cloud thrust in his sickle on the earth; and the earth was reaped. And another angel came out of the temple which is in heaven, he also having a sharp sickle. And another angel came out from the altar, which had power over fire; and cried with a loud cry to him that had the sharp sickle , saying; Thrust thy sickle, and gather the clusters of the vine of the earth; for her grapes are fully ripe. And the angle thrust in his sickle into the earth, and gathered the vine of the earth, and cast it into the great winepress of the wrath of God. And the winepress was trodden without the city, and blood came out of the winepress, even unto the horse bridles, by the space of a thousand and six hundred furlongs.”

Hourglass Tattoo Ancient Greece and Rome knew three cruel fates; Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. Clotho held the distaff from which the thread of life was spun by Lachesis, while Atropos wielded the shears and cut the thread when life was ended. They were deemed cruel because neither she who held the staff of life, she who spun the thread nor she who cut it, regarded the wishes of any man. In the Sublime Degree Freemasons hear a beautiful prayer, taken almost wholly from the Book of Job (14, to 14 inclusive). Just why the fathers of the ritual thought they could improve upon Job, and left out here a verse, thee substituted a word, is a sealed mystery. The phrases of the King James version seem intimately connected with the ritual of our hour glass and scythe of time: Man that is born of a woman is of a few days and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut ; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not. And dost thou open thine eyes upon such a one, and bringest me unto judgment with thee? Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? not one. Seeing his days are determined, the number of his months are with thee, thou hast appointed his bounds that he cannot pass; turn from him, that he may rest, till he shall accomplish, as an hireling, his day. For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; Yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring boughs like a plant. But man dieth, and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? As the Waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up; so man lieth down and riseth not; till the heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their sleep. O that thou wouldest keep me secret, until thy wrath be past, that thou wouldest appoint me a set time and remember me! If a man die, shall he live again? All the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come.” Masonic Hourglass “If a man die, shall he live again?” Job’s cry of despair has rung down the centuries; it is one of Freemasonry’s glories that her answer is as ringing! Her tragedy ends in hope; her assurances of immortality are positive. Ritual of hour glass and scythe, if read alone, is gloomy and disheartening, but not as parts of a whole which end in a certainty of immortality. Measurement of time has demanded the attention of learned men in all ages. Our modern clocks, watches and chronometers have a long and intricate history, and many ancestors quite unlike their descendants; among them the sun dial and hour glass. Just how old the instrument is which measures time by the slow dropping of liquid or running sand is not easily stated; ancient Egypt knew a water clock and Plato is said to have invented the “Clepsydra,” in water drips from container to container, marking hate passing of hours. The substitution of sand for water must have occurred early, sand having the great advantage that it runs more slowly than water and does not evaporate in the process. The sealed semi-vacuum double bulbs of more modern days were then, of course, unknown. Masonic Hourglass Nor can the earliest symbolic relationship between the passage of hours and days and man’s life both here and hereafter be stated; the connection between time and life is so intimate that it is difficult to believe that ideas of duration as a factor of life, as well as a practical matter of eating, sleeping, etc., did not arise coincidentally. Both old and New Testaments have this poetry; Isaiah 38-10: “I said in the cutting off of my days, I shall go to the gates of the grave: I am deprived of the residue of my years.” and John 5-25: “Verily, verily, I say unto you; The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live.” The brethren who built upon the simple esoteric work of operative Lodges the magnificent system of philosophy, life and morals which is our Freemasonry, wrought with the viewpoint of their times. Yet the abiding spirit of the ritual is a reality, otherwise it would not have lived in men’s hearts and worked its gentle miracles for so long a period. Apparently taking some somber pleasure from dwelling on mortality, decay, the evening of life, old age and death; these early Masonic ritualists nevertheless builded well when they endeavored to impress upon all brethren the vital importance of time. Indeed, time is so intimately interwoven in the degrees of Freemasonry (see Short Talk Bulletin, January, 1928) that it very obviously has a symbolic ass well as moral significance. Shakespeare wrote of “the inaudible and noiseless foot of time,” and “time the nurser and breeder of all good.” Richter denominated time “the chrysalis of eternity;” Franklin called it “the herb that cures all diseases.” Tusser said: “Time tries the truth in everything,” echoing Cicero’s “Time is the herald of truth.” Paine dug the meat from this nut in writing “Time makes more converts than reason.” Freemasonry’s ritual deals with time in a strictly limited sense; we speak of a definite number of years the temple was in building; of the days the Master was buried; of the scythe of time, which cuts the brittle thread of life; of the hour glass which marks the passing of life. But in the symbolic sense Freemasonry makes of time a vast conception, allied with the very fundamentals of God and the hereafter. Her whole teaching is of the preparation for another and better life by a substantial and an honorable living of this one. Freemasonry makes a very clear distinction between everyday time, which all men share; - eight hours for labor, eight hours for God and a worthy brother, and eight hours for refreshment and sleep - and the time his immortal part must spend in the hereafter. Masonic Hourglass The scythe of time “cuts the brittle thread of life and launches us into eternity.” The immortal part of man “never, never, never, dies.” “Time, patience and persever-ance will accomplish all things.” “Through the valley of the shadow of death, he may finally arise from the tomb of transgression to shine as the stars, forever and ever.” Quotations might be multiplied; they will occur to all whom the ritual is familiar. Lucky the Master Mason who has grasped the deeper meanings of the hour glass and the scythe, and comforted is he who see behind their gloomy outlook a gleam of light; “In the night of death hope sees a star and love can hear the flutter of an angel’s wing,” as the great agnostic phrased it.”

Masonic Hourglass

Hourglass Symbolism Welcome to MHC Virtual Museum! The Hourglass, Hourglass History The origin of the hourglass is unclear

Hourglass History hourglass facts, hourglass symbolism, hourglass timer, hourglass clock, hourglass sand timer, Father Time and Mother of Time, hourglass definition, hourglass for sale, sand clock wikipedia, Hourglass – symbol of Death, History of Hourglass, Masonic Hourglass See also:

Time symbolism

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