Slow Havamal: 81

[kylec]

In the 81st verse, we’re cautioned not to praise: day until night; your wife until she’s cremated; a sword until after the battle; a daughter until married off; ice, until crossed; ale, until drunk.

This vivid stanza offers us six images for what could be summed as, “Don’t praise the thing until its fruition.” These six angles focus our attention on the realization of something, rather than on its promise. Many things start out looking good. They come with a fine reputation. They fit our hopes and expectations. But that’s no guarantee the steak will slice the way we want it.

Something that strikes perhaps only me about this verse is the conflict between seeing our world in terms of nouns versus verbs. A day, a wife, a sword, a daughter, ice, ale—the noun point of view holds these objects to be fully-formed and eternal. To hold it is as good as fulfillment. A timeless solid form will give us exactly what attributes we assign to it. For example, a wife will be loving and caring, a good mother, faithful, a provider of home skills, etc. We identify the eternal form with a person. That person may or may not fulfill those expectations.

A person isn’t timeless. There are parts of them that change very slowly, others moderately, some moment-to-moment. A person more closely resembles a verb, or more appropriately, a process. In warning us not to praise too soon, Odin suggests that it is the whole sequence that determines worth. We might think of it as the ongoing function, as opposed to a freeze frame.

(I’ve found the following metaphors helpful with envisioning processes. Imagine each action as a bead, followed by another bead, and another, and the whole life cycle as the necklace they make. Or, each action as a musical note, and the process as the entire score.)

A sword made of good steel and whetted might do very well in battle. So it is the action of the sword in a context that matters, not the sword’s shape or luster (though those things may give us a hint of its nature and potentials). If it breaks on the first stroke, or the guard comes loose, we would change our opinion.

The best I can say about something that hasn’t yet fulfilled its purpose is that it’s going well, so far. It’s also worth noting that the conditions for fulfillment depend entirely on my perspective. A day might not fit my needs, but work just fine for someone else. Maybe “wife” disappoints me but does exactly what she needs for her own personal growth. An ale tastes good to one man, but not another.

When we praise the completion of a series of events (read: one of these nouns), we say only how well it suited ourselves. To do so ahead of time is to assume that well-begun is all-the-way-done, a grave error. Better to appreciate how things are working out, while keeping in mind that they can still change. If it’s proven good in the past, it’s more likely to prove so again, though there’s no guarantee.

In our praise, we admit what we see: how we outline something, and what we hope becomes of it (that woman, and what she will accomplish in her life, I call “wife”). Perhaps this is an opportunity for us to know ourselves—by examining the things we praise before fruition. Odin doesn’t say to be a pessimist, either. Only to reserve our gratitude for things completed. To keep one eye on how things stand right now, and another on the places they may go.