IN the days of Egil Skalagrimsson, scops sang of Ragnar Lothbrok, and the curse upon his betrothed, Kraka.
She was to wait before being with her bridegroom on her wedding night until the Moon of the Red Blood had waned. Ragnar, however, who had been long at sea and eager for sons, had drunk much mead at the wedding, and was not to be resisted.
"Manna Mildest,"(gentle man) Kraka murmured. "Look ye upon your wyfe with mildheortnesse. (compassion or gentleness)Drink ye more mead and drift to Nod."
"Do not ply me with drink and bring low my mood," Ragnar replied, casting off his shaggy pants.
"But, the curse of heofon (heaven) will befall me! Your child will bend like ye will not!"
Ragnar took his wyfe despite this warning, and drank to his wyrd (fate) until dawn.
Nine months pass, and Ivar is born without bone -- only gristle.
"I told ye so," Kraka begnornodon. (lamented)
Think you can guess the meaning of the Old English words? Highlight the above blanks with your mouse and check it out!
This story was written for class, challenged were we to use only Anglo-Saxon words. I think a few Normanisms snuck in there!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Empires felled by folded hands
When I despair,
I remember that all through history
the ways of truth and love have always won.
There have been tyrants, and murderers,
and for a time they can seem invincible,
but in the end they always fall.
Think of it - always.
mahatma gandhi - early 20th century
http://www.worldprayers.org/
http://www.worldprayers.org/
I chose this simple reflection prayer, written by one of the greatest minds and forces for peace in all of history, because I think it provides a good foil for the Gaelic prayer I posted earlier. In this piece, you have the same seemingly indomitable foes that are referenced in the other ones, but instead of armor, swords, and high towers, here your defense is positive thought, and knoweldge of your own ability to choose what is right, and stand by it.
These two prayers have something else in common. The first speaks of a vision that is sought by the penitent writer. This second prayer illustrates this vision, in its best form. Gandhi says in simple words and language what the seeker should be envisioning, in despair and in battle. I also appreciate Gandhi's choice of verbs; note that for himself, he chooses verbs of reflection: despair, remember, think, but for the greater concepts of truth and love he chooses won, and for tyrants and murderers he chooses fall, both of which have a larger-than-life sort of flavor to them. Gandhi's was a cause against incredible odds, and with incredible methods -- passive resistance. Perhaps it is knowing this about him that makes this prayer so powerful in its brevity and simplicity.
He ends with the one word all people who pray want associated with prayers answered: always.
These two prayers have something else in common. The first speaks of a vision that is sought by the penitent writer. This second prayer illustrates this vision, in its best form. Gandhi says in simple words and language what the seeker should be envisioning, in despair and in battle. I also appreciate Gandhi's choice of verbs; note that for himself, he chooses verbs of reflection: despair, remember, think, but for the greater concepts of truth and love he chooses won, and for tyrants and murderers he chooses fall, both of which have a larger-than-life sort of flavor to them. Gandhi's was a cause against incredible odds, and with incredible methods -- passive resistance. Perhaps it is knowing this about him that makes this prayer so powerful in its brevity and simplicity.
He ends with the one word all people who pray want associated with prayers answered: always.
Question from the stack of blue cards
One of the questions James Lipton always asks his guests on Inside the Actor's Studio is "What is your favorite word?"Apparently Bernard Pivot, who had a prime-time literary interview program at one point, would ask the same question, and was often dissapointed with the answers. Geoffrey Nunberg certainly was in his section of The Way We Talk Now entitled "A Few of My Favorite Words."
The point he makes is that the choice the politician threw out there -- peace -- was a great concept, but not much of a word. He goes on to explain that there is some debate as to how the impression of the sound of a word is colored by meaning. Some he sites are pearl, willow, autumn, and ermine. He also thinks melanoma is a lovely sounding word, "if you want it to be the name of a tropical wind instead of a tumor." (p.21) He also thinks "diarrhea" is a waste of good syllables. (ibid.)
He starts the piece by telling the story of a dentist who builds a giant catapult to hurl a Buick 250 yards into the air. He chose Buick because he liked the sound of the name. He goes on to debate about what his favorite word would be, wavering between parts of speech (preposition athwart, verb bamboozle, adjectives galore and akimbo) and settles at last on lap, "that evanescent body part which no other language has a name for." (p.22)
I have thought long and hard about what my favorite word would be; readers of this blog already know that my favorite French word is pamplemousse. I am a fan of other people's invented words: jedi, wookie, muggle, orc, hobbit. My sister and her husband call their dog (a plotthound [Platthund cognate? (platt meaning low or plain and hund meaning dog, OLG)] whose proper name is Ellie Mae) the barkles. I love my daughter's words for peek-a-boo and lipstick, beedaloo and eyelips respectively. So I don't know if I could pick a favorite word.
But I do know for sure my all time least favorite word, just for the sake of the word, not necessarily the concept: seat. I would rather we talk about chairs and traffic harness belts and toilet comfort lids than ever again use the word seat.
Monday, October 17, 2005
What's in a name? Roses vs. Skunk cabbage
| www.behindthename.com Gender: Feminine Usage: English, French, German, Jewish, Biblical Pronounced: SER-a [key] |
| Means "lady" or "princess" in Hebrew. This was the name of the wife of Abraham in the Old Testament. She became the mother of Isaac at the age of 90. Her name was originally Sarai, but God changed it (see Genesis 17:15). |
This is, of course, what I expected to find. My name has been the same for thousands of years, and has been on the top 20 list for 200 or so. The year I was born there was a bumper crop of Sarahs. I used to hate my name for this common reason. Lately, I like it. If I hear it, it means I am in the company of adults. At home, I am Momma. That's okay, too, but it is nice to be Sarah once and a while.
Something interesing about my name I learned on this site is that although I am correct in thinking it does not change much from language to language, it does significantly in Hawaiian: Kala; and Irish : Morag; and the Hebrew name Tzietel is derived from Sarah.
www.bowwow.com.au
This is a site for pet names. As I predicted, my pet's name was not on their list. My Newfoundland dog is named Madame Pamplemousse, which means "Mrs. Grapefruit." We call her Mousse for short. She got her name the usual way -- no one was paying attention. I had made a list of French names for the dog before we adopted her from the Humane Society, and my husband thought them all "too girly." He asked what my favorite French word was. It was Pamplemousse. He liked the idea of a giant hary dog having a giant hairy name, and she was grapefruit before I could further explain. I should point out, however, that the dog does understand French commands, and English only if we are holding meat. The neighbors laugh at me as I walk this beast, scolding "allez-y" when I want her to heel properly.
I enjoyed this site for a few reasons: one, many of the names were cute, especially the pair names: Mufasa and Sarabi, Napoleon and Josephine, Fred & Wilma. But I was amused by the fact that I know children by many of these names -- most of whom are in one family: Baine, Quillon, Griffin, and D'artagnan. This was a decision we agonized over when picking names for our daughter... next time I am consulting this site to make sure the one I want has not been usurped by a pooch!
www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/routesofenglish/games
I did pretty well on the "Where Does This Word Come From" game; I was only wrong about 30% of the time. Being a history major helped, as I remembered things like the first time English speakers encountered potatoes or tobacco was in the West Indies. And Harry Flashman helped with cushy and pajamas. But the crossword? I am not the greatest shakes at them anyway, and I only got a miserable three words before I had to give up. These new words to the language were made up of parts of old ones, in many cases, making me think modern English has a bit of an agglutinative nature... I know the new adjectives people are inventing all the time are both that and incorrectly inflective.
I could see using this site in my classroom someday, as I think etymology is a lost art in today's spelling and vocabulary-for-the-sake-of-the ACT's world. Etymology is what saved me on the ACT's -- I will have to look into the WKCE's and see if it would help there, too. I am guessing it would. And since history is being pushed out of many budgets and timetables by NCLB, sprinkling a bit of it in English class would be great.
Rob tu mo bhoile, a Comdi cri
Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.
Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.
Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.
High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.
The reasons I am drawn to this prayer are first and foremost largely sentimental; this was sung at my wedding, it was my late Nana's favorite, and it was what Joan of Arc sang before the battle of Orleans in my production of Jeanne d'Arc.
That aside, this prayer from the original 8th century Gaelic captures a place in time; this was when the Anglo-Saxon and Viking invasions were happening, concurrently with the conversion of much of the islands. This was also a time when the churches of the Irish and Rome were, in a way, competing for the loyalty of the newly converted. Within this prayer, this hymn, are all these elements: the marks of war -- swords, shields, shelters, high towers, etc; the faith decisions in waking and sleeping; and the struggle between the riches of the church in Rome and the simple life in Ireland.
All this history aside, there is the simple plea: be thou my vision. So many prayers ask for a friend, or intercedence on some matter, or eternal life, forgiveness of sins... this penitent writer asks for the ability to see things as God does, convinced that this is the way to victory in life. Ken Burns, the reknowned PBS documentary filmaker, chose an instrumental setting of this hymn for the soundtrack for his piece on Thomas Jefferson, who is called one of the grandest visionaries of all time -- but who is also criticized for not seeing the faults of his own actions (i.e. not believing in slavery, but owning slaves.) This view is perhaps more re-vision than vision. But it does give me pause:
Isn't this what we should all seek? This vision?
What a Waist, that Empire
[a. F. empire:—L. imperium in same sense; related to imperQre to command, whence imperQtor emperor. Owing partly to historical circumstances, and partly to the sense of the etymological connexion between the two words, empire has always had the specific sense ‘rule or territory of an emperor’ as well as the wider meaning which it derives from its etymology.]
1. Supreme and extensive political dominion; esp. that exercised by an ‘emperor’ (in the earlier senses: see emperor 1, 2), or by a sovereign state over its dependencies.
How every man likes to feel in his own house, right? Master of his domain?
5. a. An extensive territory (esp. an aggregate of many separate states) under the sway of an emperor or supreme ruler; also, an aggregate of subject territories ruled over by a sovereign state.
The sun never set on the British Empire for a while... always thought that was kind of cool.
b. the Empire: (a) before 1804 (and subsequently in Hist. use) often spec. the ‘Holy Roman’ or ‘Romano-Germanic’ empire. (b) Great Britain with its dominions, colonies, and dependencies; the British Empire; freq. the overseas dominions, etc., as opposed to Great Britain. Since the Statute of Westminster (1931), Commonwealth has become the more usual term.
(c) the rule of Napoleon Bonaparte as Emperor of the French, 1804–15, or the period of this. (d) the rule of Napoleon III as Emperor of the French, 1852–70, or the period of this, usually as Second Empire.
Every dog has his day, someone once said of the various Boney's that sifted through the French government. These few definitions are intriguing in that, though they refer to the same word (and in some cases co-exist at the same time, i.e. Napoleons and Brits, they can be used and understood in context to mean a specific and historically significant empire. Imagine, if you will, the word being bandied about on two ships, maybe half-mile from one another in a fog, one crew singing La Marseilles, the other singing "God Save the King."
b. Applied to styles of clothing (esp. a dress with a high waistline), furniture, etc., characteristic of the period of the French Empire (see 5b(c) and (d)).
So I just made a dress like this, and though I don't feel like I could RULE an empire in it, they way they wore them (low cut, and the chemise underneath damp so it clings to the figure) would certainly distract an entire empire. This is the style of Jane Austen and Rousseau alike, on the heels of two hundred years of nasty corsets. Having worn both, I can say, long live the empire!
The Savage Bull Wears the Yoke (or at least does the dishes once and a while)
[Com. Teut. str. neuter: OE. ¼eoc = OS. juc (MLG. juk, MDu. juc, joc, LG., Du. juk, jok), OHG. juh, joch, (MHG., G. joch), ON. ok (Sw. åka, Da. aag), Goth. juk, corresp. to L. jugum, W. iau, OSl. igo, Skr. yugá-m:—Indo-eur. *jugóm.
The Indo-eur. series jeug-: joug-: jug- is represented also by OHG., MHG. giuh, jiuch yoke, ‘yoke’ of land (whence late OHG. jûhhart, MHG. jûchert, dial. G. jauchert, juchert), L. jGgerum measure of land, Gr. yoke of beasts, couple; ON. eykr (:—Teut- *jaukiz), Skr. yógya beast of draught; Skr. yuj, L. jungere, Lith. jungiù to yoke, couple, join, Skr. yóga union.
On the analogy of lock n.1 from OE. loc, the modern standard form would be yock, which survives in certain (chiefly north-midland) districts. Orthographic evidence for the lengthening of the stem vowel (which began first in the inflected forms) appears in the latter part of the 14th century.]
Tha above passage is the etymology of the word yoke; Considering the endless list of cognates that was required for tanslation this week, I find it fascinating that many of the languages we were comparing -- Germans(high and middle and low), Latin, Greek, Old Norse, Old English, Sanskrit, ans Lithuanian, to name a few represented here -- were trapped in the history of this one little word. I was drawn to this word for two reasons, and have discovered in searching a close third: one, I own a yoke, which was carved by hand for a wedding gift and has come in useful many a time hauling water buckets at living history events; two, I always loved the fight that the title expression is featured in from Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing; and newly, three, I love that this highly domesitc, ordinary, hard-working and no airs about it farming word comes from the same root at the metropolitan health and wellness craze of star and wannabe alike: YOGA. I always thought Madonna was full of bull; now I know I was not far off, she just shares the same equipment.
I. 1. a. A contrivance, used from ancient times, by which two animals, esp. oxen, are coupled together for drawing a plough or vehicle; usually consisting of a somewhat curved or hollowed piece of wood fitted with ‘bows’ or hoops at the ends which are passed round the animals’ necks, and having a ring or hook attached to the middle to which is fastened a chain or trace extending backward by which the plough or vehicle is drawn.
in the yoke: with the oxen yoked up.
Can you see the material girl pulling a plough? Or even being photographed with one?
3. a. A frame fitted to the neck and shoulders of a person for carrying a pair of pails, baskets, etc.
This definition is closer to the one I own.
b. A part of a garment, made to fit the shoulders (or the hips), and supporting the depending parts, often of double thickness, of special material, or particularly ornamented.
This definition reminds me of one of the sinful pleasures I am afforded as a stay-at-home mom: the Hallmark Channel broadcasts re-runs of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman on weekday mornings. Jane Seymour, the lovely title character, is always seen sporting a prairie gown with a double-thick rounded yoke and high collar. Seventy-five percent of the productions I costumed in high school took place between 1880 and 1910, so I've tossed a few yokes around in this sense, too.
8b. With various other implications, as of connexion, co-operation, labour, etc.; in reference to marriage, combining the ideas of union or co-operation and subjection or restraint.
The "a" portion of this definition mentions servitude or slavery....hmmmm...The women on the web nod in silent agreement, whilst the men hear the strains of "Don't Fence Me In" playing in the background.
And now, back from hiatus, the definition challenge: a never-before seen scene from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.
Sully: Dr. Mike! Dr. Mike! Come quick! The oxen slipped their yoke (definition one) and just trampled someone!
Dr. Mike: Sully! Go and fetch me some clean water with the yoke (definition 3a) and have Colleen prepare the bandages. And by the way, you look incredible in that outfit!
Sully: Well, then, how about you changing the dress with the high-collared yoke(definition 3b) and meeting me in the meadow when you are all done?
Dr. Mike: What, so you can trap me in a yoke(definition 8b) of love and the next thing you know you're off tracking bear with Cloud Dancing and I am home polishing your tomahawk collection? Fat chance!
The Indo-eur. series jeug-: joug-: jug- is represented also by OHG., MHG. giuh, jiuch yoke, ‘yoke’ of land (whence late OHG. jûhhart, MHG. jûchert, dial. G. jauchert, juchert), L. jGgerum measure of land, Gr. yoke of beasts, couple; ON. eykr (:—Teut- *jaukiz), Skr. yógya beast of draught; Skr. yuj, L. jungere, Lith. jungiù to yoke, couple, join, Skr. yóga union.
On the analogy of lock n.1 from OE. loc, the modern standard form would be yock, which survives in certain (chiefly north-midland) districts. Orthographic evidence for the lengthening of the stem vowel (which began first in the inflected forms) appears in the latter part of the 14th century.]
Tha above passage is the etymology of the word yoke; Considering the endless list of cognates that was required for tanslation this week, I find it fascinating that many of the languages we were comparing -- Germans(high and middle and low), Latin, Greek, Old Norse, Old English, Sanskrit, ans Lithuanian, to name a few represented here -- were trapped in the history of this one little word. I was drawn to this word for two reasons, and have discovered in searching a close third: one, I own a yoke, which was carved by hand for a wedding gift and has come in useful many a time hauling water buckets at living history events; two, I always loved the fight that the title expression is featured in from Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing; and newly, three, I love that this highly domesitc, ordinary, hard-working and no airs about it farming word comes from the same root at the metropolitan health and wellness craze of star and wannabe alike: YOGA. I always thought Madonna was full of bull; now I know I was not far off, she just shares the same equipment.
I. 1. a. A contrivance, used from ancient times, by which two animals, esp. oxen, are coupled together for drawing a plough or vehicle; usually consisting of a somewhat curved or hollowed piece of wood fitted with ‘bows’ or hoops at the ends which are passed round the animals’ necks, and having a ring or hook attached to the middle to which is fastened a chain or trace extending backward by which the plough or vehicle is drawn.
in the yoke: with the oxen yoked up.
Can you see the material girl pulling a plough? Or even being photographed with one?
3. a. A frame fitted to the neck and shoulders of a person for carrying a pair of pails, baskets, etc.
This definition is closer to the one I own.
b. A part of a garment, made to fit the shoulders (or the hips), and supporting the depending parts, often of double thickness, of special material, or particularly ornamented.
This definition reminds me of one of the sinful pleasures I am afforded as a stay-at-home mom: the Hallmark Channel broadcasts re-runs of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman on weekday mornings. Jane Seymour, the lovely title character, is always seen sporting a prairie gown with a double-thick rounded yoke and high collar. Seventy-five percent of the productions I costumed in high school took place between 1880 and 1910, so I've tossed a few yokes around in this sense, too.
8b. With various other implications, as of connexion, co-operation, labour, etc.; in reference to marriage, combining the ideas of union or co-operation and subjection or restraint.
The "a" portion of this definition mentions servitude or slavery....hmmmm...The women on the web nod in silent agreement, whilst the men hear the strains of "Don't Fence Me In" playing in the background.
And now, back from hiatus, the definition challenge: a never-before seen scene from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.
Sully: Dr. Mike! Dr. Mike! Come quick! The oxen slipped their yoke (definition one) and just trampled someone!
Dr. Mike: Sully! Go and fetch me some clean water with the yoke (definition 3a) and have Colleen prepare the bandages. And by the way, you look incredible in that outfit!
Sully: Well, then, how about you changing the dress with the high-collared yoke(definition 3b) and meeting me in the meadow when you are all done?
Dr. Mike: What, so you can trap me in a yoke(definition 8b) of love and the next thing you know you're off tracking bear with Cloud Dancing and I am home polishing your tomahawk collection? Fat chance!
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