The monkey has the fingers of the devil
When I started learning a little Tajik in preparation for a volunteering trip a few years ago, my bizarre phrase book contained this gem in the section under 'animals'. I'm starting on a bit of a tangent, but it's relevant, I promise.
My question this time is - how much of our language takes its inspiration from the natural world? Where have our animals, plants, trees and skies slipped into our ordinary parlance without us noticing? We have some beautiful idioms - maybe none as strange as the monkey with the devil fingers*, but still...
In the wake of new word hoarders like Robert McFarlane, I'm setting out to make my own list (to be continued):
to weasel
to ferret
have a gander
larking around
beetling away
dog-tired
crow about s.th
pussyfoot
to leapfrog
to be a pig
parrot-fashion
budding talent
a blossoming young woman
put down roots
.....
*I do have some doubts about this phrase, but I'll never know for sure. My phrase book was written by two people whose only common language was Esperanto, living hemispheres apart from each other.
Monday, 18 January 2016
Thursday, 8 October 2015
Happy poetry day
Leaves burning
Trees
Hot embers in the forest -
A sacrifice to the summer,
perhaps,
But quickly put out
by October's rains.
Now the glow of
iron stones in a river.
Trees
Hot embers in the forest -
A sacrifice to the summer,
perhaps,
But quickly put out
by October's rains.
Now the glow of
iron stones in a river.
Tuesday, 1 September 2015
An excerpt on ecological conversion
From the Holy Father’s letter of 6 August 2015 to Cardinals Koch and Turkson:
As Christians we wish to contribute to resolving the ecological cris is which humanity is presently experiencing. In doing so, we must first rediscover in our own rich spiritual patrimony the deepest motivations for our concern for the care of creation. We need always to keep in mind that, for believers in Jesus Christ, the Word of God who became man for our sake, “the life of the spirit is not dissociated from the body or from nature or from worldly realities, but lived in and with them, in communion with all that surrounds us” ( Laudato Si’ , 216). The ecological crisis thus summons us to a profound spiritual conversion: Christians are called to “an ecological conversion whereby the effects of their encounter with Jesus Christ become evident in their relationship with the world around them” (ibid., 217). For “living our vocation to be protectors of God’s handiwork is essential to a life of virtue; it is not an optional or a secondary aspect of our Christian experience” (ibid.).
1st September is the day of prayer for the care of creation
As Christians we wish to contribute to resolving the ecological cris is which humanity is presently experiencing. In doing so, we must first rediscover in our own rich spiritual patrimony the deepest motivations for our concern for the care of creation. We need always to keep in mind that, for believers in Jesus Christ, the Word of God who became man for our sake, “the life of the spirit is not dissociated from the body or from nature or from worldly realities, but lived in and with them, in communion with all that surrounds us” ( Laudato Si’ , 216). The ecological crisis thus summons us to a profound spiritual conversion: Christians are called to “an ecological conversion whereby the effects of their encounter with Jesus Christ become evident in their relationship with the world around them” (ibid., 217). For “living our vocation to be protectors of God’s handiwork is essential to a life of virtue; it is not an optional or a secondary aspect of our Christian experience” (ibid.).
1st September is the day of prayer for the care of creation
Friday, 24 April 2015
Wealth
...continuing to quote from Barry Lopez's Arctic Dreams,
In the following narratives [of Arctic exploration], it is not solely the desire of some men for difrerent sorts of wealth that becomes clear, but the suspicion that North America offered more than material wealth. It offered wealth that could not be owned, like the clarity of the air and the sight of 300,000 snow geese feeding undisturbed on the Great Plain of the Koukdjuak...We seem vaguely uneasy with the notion that a flock of snow geese rising like a snowstorm over Baffin Island is as valuable or more to mankind than the silver, tin, and copper being dug out of the Bolivian Andes at PotosÃ. These are not modern misgivings; they daye in North America from the time of Columbus and Cabot...
(pp.312-313)
Apologies for the long passage today. I like the idea of wealth that cannot be possessed, because it makes it a communal asset. If I don't possess A, it means that my friends can also enjoy it. But it does make me wonder about responsibility with relation to possession. If I own, say, a tree in my back garden, I have a responsibility to make sure it is safe and well looked after otherwise it will be my fault if it dies. If there's a tree on the patch of communal land outside my house, whose responsibility is it to protect that tree, to make sure it thrives and grows beautifully old?
Wealth that cannot be owned by any individual cannot be traded. It cannot be bargained for, charged interest on, entered into ledger books or spreadsheets. It makes me think of Oliver's song: "Who will buy this wonderful morning?" The rising sun is one of our most valuable assets and yet completely and utterly un-possessible. Just a thought.
In the following narratives [of Arctic exploration], it is not solely the desire of some men for difrerent sorts of wealth that becomes clear, but the suspicion that North America offered more than material wealth. It offered wealth that could not be owned, like the clarity of the air and the sight of 300,000 snow geese feeding undisturbed on the Great Plain of the Koukdjuak...We seem vaguely uneasy with the notion that a flock of snow geese rising like a snowstorm over Baffin Island is as valuable or more to mankind than the silver, tin, and copper being dug out of the Bolivian Andes at PotosÃ. These are not modern misgivings; they daye in North America from the time of Columbus and Cabot...
(pp.312-313)
Apologies for the long passage today. I like the idea of wealth that cannot be possessed, because it makes it a communal asset. If I don't possess A, it means that my friends can also enjoy it. But it does make me wonder about responsibility with relation to possession. If I own, say, a tree in my back garden, I have a responsibility to make sure it is safe and well looked after otherwise it will be my fault if it dies. If there's a tree on the patch of communal land outside my house, whose responsibility is it to protect that tree, to make sure it thrives and grows beautifully old?
Wealth that cannot be owned by any individual cannot be traded. It cannot be bargained for, charged interest on, entered into ledger books or spreadsheets. It makes me think of Oliver's song: "Who will buy this wonderful morning?" The rising sun is one of our most valuable assets and yet completely and utterly un-possessible. Just a thought.
Wednesday, 15 April 2015
The mind's intercourse with the landscape
In his book Arctic Dreams, the American author Barry Lopez writes:
"...language is not something man imposes on the land. It evolves in his conversation with the land - in testing the sea ice with the toe of a kamik, in the eating of a wild berry...A long-lived inquiry produces a discriminating language. The very order of the language, the ecology of its sounds and thoughts, derives from the mind's intercourse with the landscape."
As I walked to work today, I wondered about the intercourse of minds with the landscape in my own community, and the effect this may have on our language and therefore on our perception of our own environment. (Incidentally, the German word Umwelt, meaning 'environment' but which I translate literally as 'world around oneself' helps me understand better what we mean by 'environment').
If we're not letting our minds interact, study, perceive the landscape, what happens?
It makes me wonder whether it's a vicious cycle. The less time we spend outside, the less we understand; the more language we lose with which to describe our landscape and so more estranged we become from the natural world around us.
Perhaps today, then, I'd advocate spending just a little more time outside, looking, listening and letting our minds explore.
"...language is not something man imposes on the land. It evolves in his conversation with the land - in testing the sea ice with the toe of a kamik, in the eating of a wild berry...A long-lived inquiry produces a discriminating language. The very order of the language, the ecology of its sounds and thoughts, derives from the mind's intercourse with the landscape."
As I walked to work today, I wondered about the intercourse of minds with the landscape in my own community, and the effect this may have on our language and therefore on our perception of our own environment. (Incidentally, the German word Umwelt, meaning 'environment' but which I translate literally as 'world around oneself' helps me understand better what we mean by 'environment').
If we're not letting our minds interact, study, perceive the landscape, what happens?
It makes me wonder whether it's a vicious cycle. The less time we spend outside, the less we understand; the more language we lose with which to describe our landscape and so more estranged we become from the natural world around us.
Perhaps today, then, I'd advocate spending just a little more time outside, looking, listening and letting our minds explore.
Monday, 6 April 2015
Life
I've been doing some preparation for a church youth group session and hence pondering on the meaning of 'life'. (Not the answer 42, before any Python fans jump in).
What is the word 'life' for us? Is it just our physical existence? Or is it something more?
From the Greek New Testament of the Bible, I've discovered, there are two types of 'life' - bios, the earthly, physical existence; and zoe. Zoe is altogether more exciting.
Zoe is the adventurous, vital, genuine, vigorous, generous, authentic state of being.
What if life is more than simply existing? More than eating, breathing, sleeping? More than having our physical needs attended to? More than consuming and acquiring?
In Barry Lopez's book Arctic Dreams, he often talks about the lifestyle of the people that inhabit the arctic, and there's one particularly relevant point he makes in a passage on Eskimo hunters. Lopez writes:
They [Eskimo hunters] have a quality of nuannaarpoq, of taking extravagant pleasure in being alive; and they delight in finding it in other people. (p.202)
This is existing and much more.
More reading:
http://www.biblestudytools.com/lexicons/greek/nas/zoe.html
http://www.scripture4all.org/OnlineInterlinear/Greek_Index.htm
http://biblehub.com/greek/979.htm
Luke 12:13-15 & 22-23
Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams
What is the word 'life' for us? Is it just our physical existence? Or is it something more?
From the Greek New Testament of the Bible, I've discovered, there are two types of 'life' - bios, the earthly, physical existence; and zoe. Zoe is altogether more exciting.
Zoe is the adventurous, vital, genuine, vigorous, generous, authentic state of being.
What if life is more than simply existing? More than eating, breathing, sleeping? More than having our physical needs attended to? More than consuming and acquiring?
In Barry Lopez's book Arctic Dreams, he often talks about the lifestyle of the people that inhabit the arctic, and there's one particularly relevant point he makes in a passage on Eskimo hunters. Lopez writes:
They [Eskimo hunters] have a quality of nuannaarpoq, of taking extravagant pleasure in being alive; and they delight in finding it in other people. (p.202)
This is existing and much more.
More reading:
http://www.biblestudytools.com/lexicons/greek/nas/zoe.html
http://www.scripture4all.org/OnlineInterlinear/Greek_Index.htm
http://biblehub.com/greek/979.htm
Luke 12:13-15 & 22-23
Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams
Sunday, 22 March 2015
Two types of fear
Thanks to Barry Lopez' Arctic Dreams for these...
The Tununirmiut Eskimo on Bylot Island have at least two words for fear (maybe more?):
ilira - fear that accompanies awe (like watching a polar bear)
kappia - fear in the face of unpredictable violence (having to cross thin sea ice)
Do either of these apply in the face of our changing climate? Are we sitting back and experiencing ilira, watching the changes take place from a point of relative safety, or have we got collective kappia yet? Are we as afraid as we should be?
Barry Lopez published his Arctic Dreams in 1986.
The Tununirmiut Eskimo on Bylot Island have at least two words for fear (maybe more?):
ilira - fear that accompanies awe (like watching a polar bear)
kappia - fear in the face of unpredictable violence (having to cross thin sea ice)
Do either of these apply in the face of our changing climate? Are we sitting back and experiencing ilira, watching the changes take place from a point of relative safety, or have we got collective kappia yet? Are we as afraid as we should be?
Barry Lopez published his Arctic Dreams in 1986.
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