Ulysses, Chapter Seven: Aeolus

Just a few brief notes.

One of the major themes of this chapter is the press. It's Homeric analog is Aeolus, the ruler of the winds. The press is depicted as oracle of the Gods, "translator" of the eternal Word, which is Truth absolute (though the accuracy of the translation is highly questionable). The pale reflection of the same is printed in black ink within the pages of the holy book which is created anew each day, ever subject to the capriciousness of the winds and to unpredictable shifts in direction, be they political, cultural, literary, musical or what have you. The wind which is the breath of Ruach Elohim, the living breath of God, the substance and support of every created thing, finds its earthly application in newsroom sensationalism and advertising, both as insubstantial and elusive as the currents of astral winds wafted earthward from the wings of angels.

"THE CROZIER AN THE PEN"

The Crozier is the Bishop's staff which confirs blessing. It is linked to the Caduceus, which in turn is very much linked to the idea of the Ruach Elohim, its two winding serpents and central staff bearing a close resemblance to the currents of prana, or life force, in the subtle body: ida, pingala, and shushumna. The life force is carried in the breath. The breath is the vehicle of the word. The word is the carrier of truth and falsehood. "Bathe his lips, Mr. Dedalus said. Blessed and eternal God."

"They always build one door opposite another for the wind to. Way in. Way out."

The opposing doors are the gates of birth and death, by way of which the spirit enters and leaves the created world. Let us not forget that Adam was nothing more than a lump of clay before the Old Testament God breathed life into him.

Also, these are the Solstitial gates (in some traditions these would in fact be the Equinoctial gates), represented by the silver and gold keys which denote the Lesser and Greater Mysteries. The crossed keys play quite a significant part throughout the chapter.

"Like that, see. Two crossed keys here. A circle. Then here the name Alexander Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. So on." 

The riddle is first posed here: "What opera resembles a railway line? Reflect, ponder, excogitate, reply." 

The latter instruction reminds me of an image repeated numerous times throughout the Sepher Yetzirah in reference to the creation of the universe by God, which is synonymous with the creation and use of the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet: "He engraved them, carved them out, refined them, weighed them, and transformed them. [...] He engraved them by voice and carved them out with breath."

"The Tribune's words howled and scattered to the four winds. A people sheltered within his voice. Dead noise. Akashic records of all that ever anywhere wherever was." 

The Akashic records contain everything that has ever happened and every idea that has ever occurred to anybody, but it is indiscriminate, failing to discern literal truth from fantasy, subjective conjecture from objective fact.

Bloom, as wandering Jew, is ever in search of the lost Word of the Freemasons (in fact, it is strongly suggested that Bloom is himself a member). His key, which grants him access to the naval of the sea, has been replaced by a talismanic potato, which is both a fruit and a root.

The entire chapter is full of breezes and winds, doors opening and closing, machines clattering and banging, inflated windbags bombasting, windfalls, whirlwinds, hurricanes and blow outs. I've read that every type of rhetoric known to the English language is used exactly once within this chapter.