Slow Havamal: 19

[kylec]

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.

When given a chance to speak, maybe as we toast with the mead-horn, we should make sure whatever words cross our lips serve others in some way, or keep them to ourselves. It isn’t an opportunity for boasting or calling attention to one’s self. Honor someone, inform the other guests in a way that helps them rather than emphasizes knowledge, or just make a joke. If none of these three is possible, shut up. The insecure beginner is prone to speak at length on topics he knows at a superficial level, probably in order to convince himself as much as others. (You know, like blogging about Norse mythology). To paraphrase Mark Twain, better to let others think you’re a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. A comfortable silence can convey hidden wisdom (even if it’s lacking), humility, or any number of other positive elements. At worst, you don’t annoy people.

And if the revelry is too much, it’s OK to turn in early. As the night wears on, so does fatigue, intoxication, and the drain of coming up with one more useful thing to say. Better to retire at satisfaction than to linger until everyone is as tired of us as we are of them. Again, this strikes the balance. Note that the guest doesn’t skip the feast. He attends, but he refuses to hang around like a bad odor. When he’s had his share, he retires to rest up for the next occasion. Never the center of attention, nor the recluse. All of this requires a high degree of self-awareness. We have to know what we can offer of interest to others, and what serves only selfish purposes. We have to know how to keep benefits moving when we receive them. And at last, we have to realize when enough is enough, even if others seem to still be enjoying themselves. The goal is not to be the last man standing, it’s to be the best version of the man that you are. A contributor, not a guest of honor. We learn more as a participant, passing on as much as will do the man beside us some good, and removing ourselves from the equation before we become a sleepy bore, or a wild drunk destined to pass out in a compromising situation.