Slow Havamal: 19

In the 19th verse, we’re advised to let go of the mead-horn, but only after having had our portion; to shut up or say something useful. People won’t judge us for going to sleep early.

The guest is advised to strike a middle ground. When the host’s mead-horn is passed his way, he shouldn’t bogart it. But nor should he reject it. Sip, sip, pass, as they say. What’s given is for everyone. The selfish man has no place at the table, nor does one who refuses the gift. In Norse mythology, Odin stole the mead of poetry from the giants and spread it freely among gods and men. It was given for the benefit of all who could appreciate it. When the gift of wisdom comes our way, it can be tempting to horde it for our own benefit over others. It can also be tempting to think we don’t need it, and to refuse the hospitality. We’re once again advised to get what is fair and proper from the host, no more, no less. Let whatever benefits come our way flow through us to those around us, rather than keeping them greedily to ourselves. This can apply to a plate of food, a windfall, acts of kindness, learning, experience, and many other things. To act as though the source of generosity intended it to land with me and move no further is arrogant.
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016: Rocks and Stones

Rock, apparently, is not a synonym for stone. Now, I know a lot of words, and the definitions to most of them, but I went a little over three decades before I encountered this geological distinction in an anecdote that Barry Lopez shares in his book Horizon—a distinction that he, too, missed for years. A rock is still what you would expect. The hard stuff made of minerals. A stone, however, is a rock that has been modified in some way for human use. Crushed for gravel, shaped for a cornerstone, knapped into an arrowhead. I guess that means that rocks belong to geologists, and stones to archaeologists*.
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