Bioterra
Blogue de Educação Ambiental, iniciado em 01.04.2004
segunda-feira, 1 de junho de 2026
Ondas de calor desencadeiam “relação tóxica” entre ervas marinhas e microrganismos
Melancolia foi um movimento cultural Europeu atingindo sobretudo a elite Inglesa dos séc. XVI e VII: John Eccles - The Mad Lover
Melancolia (do grego antigo: μελαγχολία, romanizado: melancholía; de μέλαινα χολή, mélaina cholḗ, 'bile negra') é um conceito encontrado ao longo da medicina antiga, medieval e pré-moderna na Europa que descreve uma condição caracterizada por um humor marcadamente deprimido, queixas físicas e, por vezes, alucinações e delírios. Além de uma condição patológica, a melancolia também se podia referir a um estado de espírito ou temperamento e, por vezes, era até usada como uma descrição da condição humana em geral.
A melancolia (ou mais precisamente a 'bile negra', da qual a melancolia deriva o seu nome) era considerada um dos quatro temperamentos que correspondiam aos quatro humores. Até ao século XVIII, os médicos e outros estudiosos classificavam as condições melancólicas como tal devido à sua causa comum percebida – um excesso de um fluido nocional conhecido como "bile negra", que estava comummente ligado ao baço. Hipócrates e outros médicos antigos descreveram a melancolia como uma doença distinta com sintomas mentais e físicos, incluindo medos e desalentos persistentes, falta de apetite, abulia, insónia, irritabilidade e agitação. Mais tarde, os delírios fixos foram adicionados à lista de sintomas por Galeno e outros médicos. Na Idade Média, a compreensão da melancolia mudou para uma perspetiva religiosa, com a tristeza a ser vista como um vício e a possessão demoníaca, em vez de causas somáticas, como uma potencial causa da doença.
Durante o final do século XVI e o início do século XVII, surgiu em Inglaterra um culto cultural e literário da melancolia, associado à transformação da melancolia, por parte do neoplatonista e humanista Marsilio Ficino, de um sinal de vício numa marca de génio. Esta melancolia da moda tornou-se um tema proeminente na literatura, na arte e na música da época.
Movimento cultural inglês
Durante o final do século XVI e o início do século XVII, surgiu em Inglaterra um curioso culto cultural e literário da melancolia. Num influente ensaio de 1964 na revista Apollo, o historiador de arte Roy Strong traçou as origens desta melancolia da moda até ao pensamento do popular neoplatonista e humanista Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499), que substituiu a noção medieval de melancolia por algo novo:
"Ficino transformou o que até então tinha sido considerado o mais calamitoso de todos os humores na marca do génio. Não admira que, eventualmente, as atitudes de melancolia se tenham tornado logo um complemento indispensável para todos aqueles com pretensões artísticas ou intelectuais."
The Anatomy of Melancholy (A Anatomia da Melancolia, ou na sua versão completa: O Que Ela É: Com Todos os Seus Tipos, Causas, Sintomas, Prognósticos e Várias Curas... Filosoficamente, Medicinalmente, Historicamente, Aberta e Dissecada) de Robert Burton, foi publicada pela primeira vez em 1621 e continua a ser um monumento literário definidor dessa moda. Outro grande autor inglês que se expressou extensamente sobre o facto de ter uma disposição melancólica foi Sir Thomas Browne na sua obra Religio Medici (1643).
Night-Thoughts (Queixume: ou, Pensamentos Noturnos sobre a Vida, a Morte e a Imortalidade), um longo poema em verso livre de Edward Young, foi publicado em nove partes (ou "noites") entre 1742 e 1745, tornando-se enormemente popular em várias línguas. Teve uma influência considerável nos primeiros românticos em Inglaterra, França e Alemanha. William Blake foi mais tarde contratado para ilustrar uma edição posterior.
Nas artes visuais, esta melancolia intelectual da moda surge frequentemente na retratística da época, com os modelos posados sob a forma de "o amante, com os braços cruzados e o chapéu desabado sobre os olhos, e o erudito, sentado com a cabeça apoiada na mão" – descrições retiradas do frontispício da edição de 1638 da Anatomia de Burton, que mostra exatamente essas personagens que, por essa altura, já se tinham tornado clichés. Estes retratos eram frequentemente ambientados ao ar livre, onde a Natureza oferecia "o cenário mais adequado para a contemplação espiritual", ou num interior sombrio.
Na música, o culto pós-elisabetano da melancolia está associado a John Dowland, cujo mote era Semper Dowland, semper dolens ("Sempre Dowland, sempre em pranto"). O homem melancólico, conhecido pelos contemporâneos como um "malcontente", é personificado pelo Príncipe Hamlet de Shakespeare, o "Melancólico Dinamarquês".
Um fenómeno semelhante, embora não sob o mesmo nome, ocorreu durante o movimento alemão Sturm und Drang, com obras como As Dores do Jovem Werther de Goethe, ou no Romantismo com obras como Ode sobre a Melancolia de John Keats, ou ainda no Simbolismo com obras como A Ilha dos Mortos de Arnold Böcklin. No século XX, grande parte da contracultura do modernismo foi alimentada por uma alienação comparável e por um sentimento de falta de propósito chamado "anomia"; a preocupação artística anterior com a morte passou a ser designada sob a rubrica de memento mori. A condição medieval de acedia (acédia em português) e o Weltschmerz romântico eram conceitos semelhantes, com maior probabilidade de afetar o intelectual.
Clan of Xymox - Louise
domingo, 31 de maio de 2026
Slowdive - Alife
Movies that completely changed my Life (and why you should watch them)
We’ve all experienced that unique magic: the lights dim, the screen glows, and for the next two hours, you are completely transported. But every now and then, a movie does something deeper. It doesn't just entertain you for an evening; it fractures your worldview, shifts your priorities, and stays with you long after the credits roll.
These are the ten films that fundamentally changed how I view the world—and why they deserve a spot on your watch list tonight.
1. Dead Poets Society (1989)The Lesson: Carpe Diem is easy to say, but terrifying to live.
On the surface, this is a movie about an unconventional English teacher at a strict boarding school. But beneath that, it is a masterclass in existential courage.
How it changed me: It forced me to confront the reality of my choices. Am I living the life expected of me, or the life I actually want? It taught me that "sucking the marrow out of life" requires shaking off conformity, standing on your desk, and daring to find your own voice.
Why you should watch it: If you feel stuck in a routine or find yourself living to satisfy other people’s expectations, this film is the gentle, poetic wake-up call you need.
The Lesson: We accept the reality of the world with which we're presented.
Jim Carrey plays Truman Burbank, a man who has no idea his entire life is a 24/7 reality TV show broadcast to the entire planet.
How it changed me: It made me hyper-aware of the invisible scripts we follow in society. Truman's journey isn't just about escaping a literal television set; it’s a metaphor for breaking free from the comfort zones, biases, and artificial structures that keep us safe but completely unfulfilled.
Why you should watch it: In an era dominated by social media algorithms and curated feeds, The Truman Show feels more relevant than ever. It forces you to look at your own "set" and ask: If I walked to the edge of my world, would I have the courage to open the door and leave?
The Lesson: If you knew how your story would end, would you still live it?
When mysterious spacecraft touch down across the globe, a linguistics professor named Louise Banks is recruited to communicate with the extraterrestrial visitors. As she learns their non-linear language, her perception of time and memory begins to change.
How it changed me: Without spoiling the ending, this movie completely rewired how I look at grief, love, and time. It taught me that the beauty of life doesn't lie in a happy ending, but in the willingness to embrace the journey fully - sorrow and all. It’s a profound shift from asking "Why me?" to saying "Yes to life."
Why you should watch it: This isn't your typical alien invasion action flick. It is a deeply philosophical, quiet sci-fi masterpiece that will leave you staring at the ceiling for hours after it ends, rethinking every relationship in your life.
The Lesson: Passion is not a choice; it’s a necessity.
Set during the grueling 1984–1985 UK miners' strike, the film follows an 11-year-old working-class boy who trades his boxing gloves for ballet shoes, facing fierce opposition from his family and community.
How it changed me: It completely redefined my understanding of resilience and identity. Watching Billy turn his frustration, anger, and isolation into explosive, raw choreography taught me that art is not just a hobby—it is a vital survival mechanism. It made me realize that staying true to who you are often requires fighting the very environments meant to shape you.
Why you should watch it: If you have ever felt like an outsider in your own world, or if you're struggling to defend a dream that others find foolish, Billy Elliot is an emotional powerhouse. It will make you laugh, cry, and want to dance through the streets.
The Lesson: The thin veneer of civilization is easily stripped away away from societal control.
Francis Ford Coppola's Vietnam War epic follows Captain Willard on a secret mission down a river into Cambodia to assassinate a rogue Green Beret Colonel, Walter E. Kurtz, who has gone insane and set himself up as a god to a local tribe.
How it changed me: It forced me to look into the darkest corners of human nature. It's not just a movie about war; it is a psychological descent into darkness. It made me realize how fragile our moral compasses really are when separated from social rules. Kurtz isn't just a villain—he is a reflection of what happens when a man stares too long into the hypocrisy of civilization and completely breaks.
Why you should watch it: If you want a cinematic experience that challenges your understanding of morality, sanity, and the dual nature of man (good vs. evil), this hallucinatory masterpiece is mandatory. It is heavy, surreal, and unforgettable.
The Lesson: True love and faith often look like madness to the rest of the world.
Set in a deeply religious and isolated Scottish community, Lars von Trier's masterpiece follows Bess, a naive young woman who marries an oil rig worker, Jan. After an accident paralyzes Jan, he convinces Bess that she can keep him alive and heal him by sleeping with other men and telling him the stories.
How it changed me: It shattered my conventional views on morality and altruism. Lars von Trier strips away all Hollywood sentimentality to ask a brutal question: what does absolute, unconditional sacrifice actually look like? It taught me that genuine grace and faith are rarely neat or socially acceptable; often, they are messy, deeply misunderstood, and painful.
Why you should watch it: This is raw, emotionally demanding cinema at its finest. Driven by a devastating, career-defining performance by Emily Watson, it is a haunting exploration of psychological isolation, religious rigidity, and spiritual transcendence that you will never forget.
The Lesson: You cannot rebuild a broken past just by showing up; some distances are internal.
A mute, disheveled man named Travis wanders out of the desert after being missing for four years. Reconnecting with his brother and the young son he abandoned, Travis gradually begins a quiet, agonizing search across Texas to find his missing wife, Jane, trying to patch together the ruins of his former life.
How it changed me: It completely redefined how I perceive emotional estrangement, forgiveness, and love. Travis trying to learn how to be a father again through old home movies broke my heart. The famous peep-show conversation between Travis and Jane through a one-way mirror taught me that sometimes, the only true act of love left is knowing when to let go and disappear back into the landscape.
Why you should watch it: Anchored by Robby Müller’s gorgeous, neon-soaked cinematography and Ry Cooder’s haunting slide guitar soundtrack, it is a masterpiece of slow-burn emotional devastation. If you’ve ever loved someone deeply but realized your own brokenness stood in the way, this movie will speak directly to your soul.
The Lesson: The most dangerous journey is the one we take into our own obsession.
Wim Wenders' ultimate road movie follows a woman tracking a mysterious man carrying a device that records visual data directly from the human brain, allowing the blind to see—and users to view their own dreams. The pursuit spans nine countries, ending in the Australian outback right as a global nuclear crisis threatens to break society apart.
How it changed me: It was a prophetic warning about the digital age that completely shifted my relationship with technology. Long before smartphones existed, Wenders showed characters becoming hopelessly addicted to viewing their own subconscious memories on handheld screens, ignoring the real world around them. It made me realize that the "end of the world" isn't always a physical apocalypse; sometimes it is the moment we stop looking each other in the eye and retreat completely into our personal digital loops.
Why you should watch it: It is a sweeping, visually mesmerizing epic with one of the greatest rock soundtracks in cinema history. Watch the Director's Cut if you can; it is an unmatched philosophical exploration of global wanderlust, the power of images, and human connection at the edge of existence.
Over the course of a single day, we follow Monsieur Oscar, a mysterious man who travels through the streets of Paris in a white stretch limousine. Guided by his driver, Celine, he transitions between 11 different "appointments," completely transforming his appearance each time to play different characters: a beggar, a dying old man, a motion-capture stuntman, and a monstrous creature.
How it changed me: It completely redefined my view on modern identity. Carax uses this surreal journey as a brilliant metaphor for social existence. In life, just like Oscar, we shift masks continuously—from professional colleague to digital persona, to caregiver, to lover. It taught me that the great modern tragedy isn't that we play roles, but the exhaustion that comes from doing it when the "invisible cameras" have stopped rolling and we no longer know who we are underneath.
Why you should watch it: It is a wildly original, anarchic, and gorgeous fever dream. Driven by Denis Lavant's staggering physical performance and featuring an unforgettable accordion intermission, it challenges everything you think you know about traditional narrative storytelling.
The Lesson: The hardest place to look is into the center of your own desires.
In a dystopian wasteland, a guide known as a "Stalker" leads a melancholy Writer and a cynical Professor into "The Zone"—a dangerous, post-apocalyptic region sealed off by the government. At the heart of the Zone lies a legendary room that is rumored to grant the deepest, most subconscious desires of anyone who steps inside.
How it changed me: It completely shifted my understanding of what a movie can achieve. Tarkovsky doesn't use Hollywood special effects; instead, he uses rain, damp soil, rusty metal, and time itself to create an atmosphere of immense spirituality. It taught me a terrifying but beautiful truth about human nature: we often think we know what we want, but if our truest, most hidden subconscious desires were suddenly granted, they might reveal us to be monsters or cowards. It made me realize that faith and self-reflection are not comforting answers, but exhausting, ongoing psychological journeys.
Why you should watch it: Stalker is not a film you simply watch—it is an experience that you absorb like a meditation. If you are willing to slow down your breathing, accept its mesmerizing rhythm, and let its philosophical poetry sink in, it will permanently change the way you look at a cinema screen and your own soul.
A nobreza estratégica do esquecimento na era da inteligência artificial
sábado, 30 de maio de 2026
IA cria referências falsas e contamina artigos científicos, apontam estudos
O adeus a Edgar Morin. 104 a resistir, pensador global, herdeiro do iluminismo
- A Policrise: um termo que co-pioneou para descrever como as crises ambientais, económicas, sociais e políticas não acontecem de forma isolada. Pelo contrário, alimentam-se e amplificam-se mutuamente de forma dinâmica.
- O Princípio hologramático: a ideia de que, tal como num holograma, a parte está no todo, mas o todo também está embutido na parte (por exemplo, um indivíduo carrega em si toda a cultura da sua sociedade).
- Religação (Reliance): a capacidade humana de construir e sustentar laços significativos, que ele defendeu como a nossa ferramenta máxima de solidariedade num mundo profundamente fragmentado.
- Texto de Leonídio Paulo Ferreira
- Edgar Morin, sociologue du temps présent et agitateur d’idées (Le Monde)
- Edgar Morin, entretien avec le théoricien de la pensée complexe - C Ce Soir du 24 juin 2021 (entrevista)
- Surnommé "le penseur planétaire", le philosophe et sociologue Edgard Morin est mort à l'âge de 104 ans ( grande reportagem)
Classificação: os países que alimentam o mundo
sexta-feira, 29 de maio de 2026
Ladytron - Secret Dreams of Thieves
Estudo da Greenpeace encontra microplásticos em comida para bebé, da Nestlé e da Danone, vendida em embalagens de plástico
DeepMind prevê chegada da AGI até 2029 e diz que a sociedade não está pronta para o avanço
Olhar nos olhos de uma ave
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| Papa-amoras-comum (Curruca communis) |










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