Slow Havamal: 17

[kylec]

In verse 17, we learn that fools often stare or brood or mumble to themselves at feasts until they get a drink, at which point they will say anything they know.

This one hits a little close to home as I’m often the fool who awkwardly takes the edge of the room and does his best not to engage when thrust into a large gathering. This silence is different than the silence of the wise guest, says Crawford. It’s uncomfortable, lacking courage or content, rather than having the wisdom to listen. We can assume this fool isn’t seeking to learn. He’s lost in his own head, second-guessing himself and force-fitting things into his assumptions, which he dares not test. He may even be resentful of having to be there, or of others there. He broods, because whatever he wants, he’s unable to express it.

A feast is a place of plenty. He comes because he has desires he hopes can be met, but his actions demonstrate that he also expects to be disappointed. Maybe he had a firm vision of what it would be like, and initial impressions don’t add up. The fool may expect to be fed and served a drink, rather than finding those things for himself. What’s at work here is a conflict of will. There’s a want of success and happiness, and an expectation of failure and misery. Many times in our lives, we decide the outcome in advance, then subconsciously act in every way possible to enforce that bias. There may well be a pleasant time available, though not the one we wanted or expected. But that would take the quiet wisdom of the wise guest to recognize, and the fool sees nothing he hasn’t already seen before.

But as soon as he gets his drink, his mouth is irreparably opened. His drink, as in previous verses, is whatever source of passion and pride he gravitates towards. It could be a topic of conversation, or some behavior on another’s part that he can’t help but comment on in terms of his usual biases. To say “anything he knows” is a funny jab—imagine some imbecile reciting a list of disconnected trivia and repeated opinions that have as little to do with what’s going on around him as with the next item on the list. The implication is that he knows little, and what little he knows lacks any kind of structure that could pass for wisdom. It’s jeopardy facts, thrice-heard jokes, a weather report, a news story, the latest gossip.

The fool is eager to speak because he rightly doubts his own wisdom, and hopes to make up for it with sufficient noise to suppress anyone else’s doubts. Attention is a stand-in for respect. The litany is evidence that he hopes volume will make up for lack of content. He throws everything but the kitchen sink at the wall, hoping something will stick so that others will see him as he imagines he is seen (but knows deep down he is not).

How does the wise guest behave in contrast? He’s quiet as well, but it’s a silence that examines and takes in, rather than stares or mutters to itself. He wants to understand where he is, who else is there, what everyone is all about, and how he might fit into the big picture. The wise guest is open to being surprised, and to being educated. He probably looks to greet those around him, but doesn’t corner anyone or mechanically introduce himself to everyone in the room. He lets the situation drive the car, and is more eager to hear what others have to say than he is to talk.

When he does get a cup, he doesn’t pound it and reach for another. He will likely find a passion or two as well, but the wise guest will be sure it doesn’t get the better of him. He can imbibe without getting wasted and making a fool of himself. His mood hardly changes over the course of the feast, yet he leaves with many new experiences.

Our eagerness to force exactly what we want out of every situation like the last line of toothpaste can earn us something radically different than what he hoped. The feast is every new experience. Instead of hammering it to fit a tired narrative, we can be wise guests and quietly assess things with an open mind, ready to change if necessary, yet steadfast in our pursuit of wisdom. If we do this, we may befriend other guests, hear interesting stories, and come away satisfied. If not, we’ll annoy them, recall only the sound of our own voices, and come away starved. The key is to look for how we fit into the broader context and what we can contribute, rather than trying to force every situation to give us exactly what we want in terms of emotional validation. Even the foolish guest himself is a lesson for the wise guest, if he cares to listen.