Slow Havamal: 85

[kylec]

The 85th verse says:
A breaking bow,
a burning fire,
a howling wolf,
a cawing crow,
a grunting pig,
a rootless tree,
a swelling wave,
a boiling kettle,

I have given this verse exactly, because I’m not sure how to paraphrase it. I normally don’t like reproducing copyrighted text, but I have heard that it’s legal to use up to 500 words, quoted and cited (The Wanderer’s Havamal, translated by Jackson Crawford), so hopefully the copyright gods may forgive me. This verse and the next few are a list that doesn’t become meaningful until it’s explained in verse 89. The reader may like to study it for a moment to see if they can figure out what these lines have in common.

Sometimes in this series, I hit a verse that worries me. Either I can’t quite suss out what it means, or it seems too similar to other nearby verses, which brings the risk of having to repeat myself. Repetition has its own meaning. It can teach us much when we pay attention to why a wise source might repeat something. But it probably doesn’t make for entertaining reading. As always, I will try to deal with the verse at hand, and as often, may drag it down some unlikely tracks.

I love words, and all things semantic and semiotic. The ways we make and receive meaning fascinate me. In this list, we have eight nouns, preceded by an -ing adjective, and an indefinite article. Sounds like I’m already stretching at this, but bear with me. The article and noun together tell us we’re dealing with an example of a class of thing, rather than a particular one. All of them seem rather ordinary. A noun, of course, is static and eternal. But the -ing adjective acts as a kind of process verb. It describes a sequence of action, and serves to animate the thing.

There are many ways to encounter an archer’s bow, or a pig. In this case, though, we’re asked to consider certain movements which these things can go through. (A fire may technically always be “burning,” but consider alternatives such as “smoldering,” or “flickering” to get a sense of the intent). These ordinary trappings of life are currently acting in a way that changes our perception—or should. The missing lines from verse 89 spell it out: “may you never be so trusting / that you trust all these things.”

Each item in this list is doing something that should raise caution, if not the hairs on the back of the neck. The wave, the kettle, the wolf are not always dangerous, but we should not treat them with an average of our attitudes toward them, across all possible states. One of the biggest takeaways I’ve gotten from Havamal is the concept of hospitality. In part, I see it as accepting what the host gives you without making unreasonable demands or forcing an issue, as well as playing the role of the host when it’s your turn. If we apply the concept of hospitality to our experiences and treat our lives as our host, we cannot ask the wave to lie down gently, or the rootless tree to crash in the opposite direction when we stand to leeward. We have to accept that this manifestation is the one before us. I may shelter behind a deep-rooted tree, but if this is the one I found, I can’t make it have deep roots because I want to shelter.

These qualifying adjectives add an important layer of meaning to a noun-heavy language of eternals. We must encounter new things on their terms, and see them as they are. We must treat those we know well as changing processes that move around a stable core. Some movements demand caution, and we should never expect that our old friends won’t go through some stage that warrants a different response. Look, listen, be alive and see the living world around you.

Comments

[boccaderlupo]

Very nice analysis. Perhaps a through-line to your previous writing on the wilderness—out there, in the wild world, complacency can kill.

Axé...

[kylec]

Thank you, the through lines are emerging now, for sure. I'm sure they're a product of my eye, not Havamal, but that's what texts like this are supposed to do I think.