Mar
East Syriac: Mar or West Syriac: Mor (as pronounced respectively in eastern and western dialects, from Syriac: ܡܪܝ, Mār(y), written with a silent final yodh) is a title of respect in Syriac, literally meaning 'my lord'. It is given to all saints and is also used before Christian name of bishops. The corresponding feminine form given to women saints is Mart or Mort (Syriac: ܡܪܬܝ, Mārt(y)). The title is placed before the Christian name, as in Mar Aprem/Mor Afrem and Mart/Mort Maryam. This is the original meaning of the name Martha 'A Lady'.
The variant Maran or Moran (Syriac: ܡܪܢ, Māran), meaning 'Our Lord', is a particular title given to Jesus, either alone or in combination with other names and titles. Likewise, Martan or Mortan (Syriac: ܡܪܬܢ, Mārtan, 'Our Lady') is a title of Mary.
Occasionally, the term Maran or Moran has been used of various patriarchs and catholicoi. The Syriac Orthodox Patriarch of Antioch, the Malankara Orthodox Catholicos and the Syro-Malankara Major Archbishop Catholicos use the title Moran Mor. Sometimes the Indian bearers of this title are called Moran Mar, using a hybrid style from both Syriac dialects that reflects somewhat the history of Syrian Christians in Kerala. The Pope of Rome is referred to as Mar Papa by the Nasranis (Saint Thomas Christians) of India.
Marçà
Marçà is a municipality in the comarca of Priorat, Tarragona Province, Catalonia, Spain.
History
In medieval times, after the area had been reconquered from the saracens, the town became part of the Barony of Entença.
The now ruined Sant Marçal monastery was founded in 1611. It was closed down due to the Ecclesiastical Confiscations of Mendizábal in 1835 during Isabella II of Spain's rule. The Desamortización or secularization of the place brought monastic life in the monastery to an end.
Despite having lost almost half of its population since 1900, nowadays Marçà is the third most important town in the Priorat comarca.
Villages
Monuments
The 18th century Santa Maria church.
References
Ímar
Ímar (Old Norse: Ívarr; died c. 873) was a Viking leader in Ireland and Scotland in the mid-late ninth century who founded the Uí Ímair dynasty, and whose descendants would go on to dominate the Irish Sea region for several centuries. He was the son of the king of Lochlann, identified in the non-contemporary Fragmentary Annals of Ireland as Gofraid. The Fragmentary Annals name Auisle and Amlaíb Conung as his brothers. Another Viking leader, Halfdan Ragnarsson, is considered by some scholars to be another brother. The Irish Annals title Amlaíb, Ímar and Auisle "kings of the foreigners". Modern scholars use the title "kings of Dublin" after the Viking settlement which formed the base of their power. Some scholars consider Ímar to be identical to Ivar the Boneless, a Viking commander of the Great Heathen Army named in contemporary English sources who also appears in the Icelandic sagas as a son of the legendary Viking Ragnar Lodbrok.
Podcasts:
Mr. Zero
by: The Yardbirds(Bob Lind)
Diamonds of silvery rain in the fountains,
And ten-cent red roses from department store counters,
Watching the moonlight reflect off the river,
Beside where the trains cross the bridge and slow down,
Trains with white letters on black iron sides,
And white rushing water that all rolls away,
And Little Miss Someone does not want to stay.
Everyone's moving, with places to go,
And Mr Zero, he sadly stands still.
As the water goes one way, the train goes another,
Mr Zero stands still and Miss Someone don't bother.
Yesterday's kiss will be cold by tomorrow,
As campfires of midnight dissolve in the darkness.
The room is deserted, the blinds have been drawn,
Little Miss Someone has packed up and gone.
Fast moving cars disappear down the highway,
With signs that say "hitch-hikers: do not disturb".
Mr Zero looks quietly up from the curb.
Morning has faded, and shadows have grown,
And Little Miss Someone is on her way home.
Mr Zero stands watching, her plane flies above,
And with frost-bitten hands waves goodbye to his love.
Walks through the park on a bright summer Sunday,
And tapestry kittens that hung on the wall.
They all die in the air like a soft minor chord,
A vacancy sign, and a bulletin board.
Mr Zero is wrapping his jacket around him,
Speaking kind words that should have been said long ago,
But Little Miss Someone does not want to know.
The night is deserted, there's dust on the shelf,
Mr Zero sits lonely and talks to himself.
It's too late to change, the fine line has been crossed,
The charades are all done, Mr Zero has lost.