Slow Havamal: 87

[kylec]

The 87th verse says:
A sick calf,
a stubborn servant,
a prophet who foresees good things,
a corpse on the battlefield,


We continue with a list of suspect things. We will see soon that we should never be so trusting that we trust all of them. To recap my position: there is nothing necessarily dangerous about a calf, a servant, a prophet, or a corpse. These nouns describe something that is in fact a shifting process. In certain phases of its life, namely the one described by the adjective, we should use more caution. What seems good one moment can turn quickly. Because I think the overall gist of these verses is well-established, let’s take it line-by-line to see if there is more specific advice in each item.

A calf is a great thing if cattle make up any portion of your wealth. It’s the fruit of your animal husbandry, a new generation. But don’t be so sure that you can count your head of cattle in advance when a calf is sick. This new joy is vulnerable. I’m reminded of the common American aphorism, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” The danger here is not that the calf will harm the rancher, but that its loss will cost him down the road. It may even infect other calves with its illness, if it’s of the contagious variety. Anything that holds great promise needs to be guarded until that promise is realized.

A servant can also be your employee, or someone else’s employee who acts on your behalf. It can be a routine, or set of habits, or a tool that we’ve come to count on. When that stubborn servant performs its tasks reluctantly, we have to wonder how much longer they’ll be done to the right standards. Servants can walk out, or even betray their masters when they’re needed most. When we experience friction, we need to find the root of it and address the problem before that friction destroys a thus far useful relationship.

Prophets tell us about the future. They might be fortune tellers or official augurs. Or equally, the weatherman, a financial forecaster, an agenda, our own hopes. This line carries a note of pessimism: anything that claims it will turn out good is suspect. I think it’s more realistic and risk-mindful than that initial impression. Prophets of misfortune also can’t be trusted, but at least they leave us wary. Prophets of good fortune may pan out most of the time, and if they do, they’re even more dangerous. We gain a false sense of security. It’s realistic to expect that not all promises will come to pass. When good things are prophesied, we don’t necessarily need to fret over them. We just have to remind ourselves that no prophecy is completely dependable, and prepare ourselves in case it isn’t.

The battle field is littered with corpses. We rightfully give our attention to the live agents, the ones swinging swords. But we shouldn’t be so trusting of an enemy’s corpse, for it may not be a corpse, at all. Sometimes a man is wounded, and plays dead to avoid a fatal blow. He may have enough faculties remaining to cut us as we pass. Or he may be perfectly healthy, staging himself among corpses during an apparent retreat so that he can come to life at an opportune moment. These corpses are anything that we consider over and done. Many things in our lives can come back to haunt us if details aren’t taken care of. They’re wounded, routed, but not finished. We should take the time to check our projects so that we don’t have to face them again, with a fresh wound for our overconfidence.