Wednesday's Word -- Hobgoblin

Hobgoblin Hall, William Wordsworth's House

I love this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson:  "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."  Reminds me a bit of the definition of insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

I must say that I have always taken some pride in my ability to be consistent -- even when the consistency lacks wisdom.  One foot in front of the other.  Or, keep swimming, keep swimming, keep swimming.

I'd love to talk about the meaning of the word "consistency," but the word I especially love here is "hobgoblin."  What exactly is a "hobgoblin" in the first place, and what does Emerson mean by linking it to "little minds"?

Hobgoblins are fascinating little creatures of folklore and myth.  They are said to be friendly, mischievous, troublemakers who love to play practical jokes.  I'm not sure if there are female hobgoblins, but according to tales I have heard, they are usually small, hairy elf-like men.  Strikes me as creepy, but they are typically found living in human homes, and (here's a redeeming quality), they do odd jobs around the house (like dusting and ironing) while the humans sleep.  Maybe after reading this, you are thinking of the house elves in the Harry Potter books.  It does appear that those creatures are at least loosely based on the lore of hobgoblins.  You can also find quite a few other references throughout literature and popular culture (e.g., I have memories of scary hobgoblins from my brothers' Dungeons and Dragons days back in the early 1980s).   In case you're interested, my favorite hobgoblin tale is The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue.

So what is Emerson saying?  Being foolishly consistent makes you a hobgoblin?  Hobgoblins are foolishly consistent?  Little minds are inhabited (or stolen) by hobgoblins?  (My little mind could use some dusting and ironing, so . . . .)  Based on my quick research, this quote is usually interpreted to mean that "little minds" (those unwilling to see reason) are afraid of change; they'd rather cling to foolish consistency.  To reach this interpretation, the word "hobgoblin" is read to mean a source of fear of trouble.

I agree with the sentiment.  Little minds would rather keep doing things the way they've always been done, even if there might be a better way.  But as I ponder on it, I don't think Emerson was using the word "hobgoblin" to mean scary, hairy elf.  Perhaps more of a trickster elf (like the famous hobgoblin Puck in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream).  The full quote, which comes from Emerson's essay Self Reliance is:

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines."  

If hobgoblin means something scary, then wouldn't Emerson have said (something like) change is the hobgoblin of little minds?  Instead, he said that little minds adore these hobgoblins (i.e., foolish consistency).  Yes, I think the genius of the quote is that little minds do adore their foolish consistency -- comfortable sameness that plays tricks on your ability to reason.         

Stamp River, Vancouver Island (October 2005)

And finally, here's a little metaphor for you to chew on.  Many years ago, I spent some time on Vancouver Island and took a short hike one day to see salmon swimming upstream at Stamp Falls.  The rangers there had constructed an interesting little contraption called a fish ladder.  This "ladder" doesn't have rungs but is a series of ascending pools that allow the fish to rest in little pools in between jumps.  This ladder makes the process of leaping up a waterfall a whole lot more manageable.  Watching the salmon leap was a thing of beauty.  But the most fascinating thing to me was how many of the fish refused to use the ladder.  Many of them instead insisted of making the journey the hard way, as the salmon for generations before had done.  Made me think about which of the fish were the foolish ones.  I suppose they were all headed towards spawning and death, in any event! But isn't that ultimately true for us all?

Wednesday's Word -- Miracle

I'm not really a die-hard, devoted user of Philosophy products, but I do like reading the product labels.  This miracle worker label caught my eye recently:  "find the miracle in every moment, the beauty in every day."  Good advice.

I've been thinking about how our lives are full of "miracles" if we are actually looking.  (My recent fire ant-scipade, for example.)

How fitting then that the word "miracle" means something that "excites admiring awe."  It comes from the Latin word miraculum, meaning "object of wonder."

But the best thing about the word?  Its indo-european root means "to laugh, smile."

Lately I've been thinking that sometimes the ability to laugh and smile in the face of the circumstances is a miracle in and of itself.  

Wednesday's Word -- Memory

Mnemosyne (1881), by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Memorial Day has me thinking about this old memory, and the word "memory."

"Memory" means the "mental faculty of retaining and recalling past experience."  Why is it that memory tortures us so, when we most want to forget, and then escapes us when we most need to remember?  As Mark Twain lamented about memory and aging:  "When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened."  {I can only hope that the years will leave me with rose-colored memories.}      


But I like that "memory" also means the "capacity of a material, such as plastic or metal [or a human being] to return to a previous shape after deformation."  Yes, we (and plastic) are resilient, if not indestructible.  We snap back.

At its origin, "memory" comes from the Indo-European root *men-, meaning (no, not the male gender, but rather) to "think."  I suppose The Thinker was a man, but (at least according to mythology) the original thinker was a woman:  Mnemosyne (from the same root *men-).  Mnemosyne was the Titan goddess of memory and mother to the nine Muses.  She is said to have invented language and words and represented the rote memorization required, before the introduction of writing, to preserve the stories of history.  (You probably know the word mnemonic (learning technique that aids memory), which comes from her name.)  "[T]hey say that Mnemosyne discovered the uses of the power of reason, and that she gave a designation to every object about us by means of the names which we use to express whatever we would and to hold conversation one with another."  [Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 5. 67. 3]  Thank you, Mnemosyne.  


It is also said that Mnemosyne presided over a pool in Hades called the pool of remembrance.  This pool was next to the pool of forgetting (the river Lethe).  Those entering Hades were encouraged not to drink from Lethe, but rather to drink from Mnemosyne's pool and continue along the journey into the land of the dead with memories intact.   

As for me, I am no Titan, but I do preside over my own pool of remembrance.  Some days I wish I could take a sip from (or dip in, for that matter) the pool of forgetting, but mostly I am grateful for my memories -- for the joys, the sorrows and the lessons contained in the depths.        

Anthropologie Etymologie

Now this sounds right up my alley . . .

Wednesday's Word -- Trust

I'm not one to follow celebrities (or think that what I think about them matters one lick), but I have to admit that I have always admired Maria Shriver.  She is a strong, smart, capable woman.  Have you read her 2009 Shriver Report on women?  You should.  Right now (whether she cares or not), my heart is aching (and still admiring her) for what she's enduring.

So this week I'm thinking about the word TRUST, and what happens when it is gone.

"Trust" means "firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing."  It is "something committed into the care of another."  Like the word ENDURE, it comes from the Indo-European root deru-, meaning "hard."  The word TREE comes from the same root.  So fitting, because I really can't imagine anything more trustworthy, steadfast and immovable than a tree.  

Times like these --  trust chopped to the ground -- leave a woman sitting on the stump, mustering the strength to get up and go plant her heart in more fertile ground.           

Wednesday's Word -- Forgive

"I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night."  (From The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, p. 359)

My musings on The Brothers Karamazov (along with circumstances in my own cell) have me thinking about forgiveness.  The word means "to excuse for a fault or an offense; to pardon."  To forgive is "to renounce anger or resentment" or to "absolve from payment of a debt."  Breaking the word apart, it comes from the Old English for-giefan, meaning to give away (for = away and "giefan" = to give).  The related Latin word "perdonare" means "to give completely, without reservation" (per = thoroughly and donare = to give).  And I like that the word "forget" (so often attached to forgive) means "to lose one's hold."


Give it (the right to exact a pound of flesh) away and let it (the pain) pack up and go.  Easier said than done.

Also makes me think of a favorite poem on the topic.  A forgiveness tree bears sweeter fruit than a poison tree, after all.      

Wednesday's Word -- Circumstance

I actually can't believe I haven't dissected this word yet.  Here are a few thoughts.  The image at left may strike you as a bit beautiful mind-ish, but I'm not developing any grand conspiracy theories, rest assured.  Oh so many years ago, my 6th grade social studies teacher, Mr. Grande, introduced our class to the art of "webbing," as he called it.  A smallish, oldish man with a little mustache and lots of spunk, he would take his chalk, start with one word in the center of the blackboard enclosed in a vigorous circle, and we were off.  Any words and ideas associated with that first word would be added to the web.  Sometimes these webs would even, by necessity, jump and continue to blackboards on adjacent walls, because they could not be contained on one.  I recall some mocking of the webbing, but I actually loved it.

"Circumstance" is "a condition or fact attending an event and having some bearing on it."  Now that's vague and broad, isn't it?  A "circumstance" is "a determining or modifying factor."  Circumstance adds context.  Circumstance provides the rest of the story.  Circumstance is the sum of its parts, parts that are often "beyond willful control."  The word comes (interestingly, like so many of my favorite words) from the Indo-European Root *sta, meaning to stand.  "Circumstance" is literally "to stand around."  (circum- meaning around + stance, meaning stand.)

I don't know about you, but that just fits.  My circumstances often leave me stranded, standing around, waiting for a ride out of town.    

Wednesday's Word -- Diet

Lose It!

Why is that when I stop exercising, I come to a COMPLETE halt?  Why is it that when I make bad food choices, I go WHOLE HOG (well, not actually, because I'm a vegetarian after all)?

Well today I have the word "diet" on my mind because as much as I completely revolt against budgeting of any kind (whether dietary or financial), I'm not enjoying the extra few pounds that have crept up on me in the past few weeks.  Note that I just finished a pack of peanut M&Ms while typing this.  Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?

I don't mean to suggest that I have a weight problem, but I do have a go-to-extreme problem.  And right now I am on the extreme end of the spectrum inhabited by people who blog while eating M&Ms and skip their morning runs for going on three weeks straight.

So here's the word.

Diet means "the usual food and drink of a person or animal."  (In my case, peanut M&Ms, vegetarian sushi rolls, and cheetos.)  It also means "to eat or drink according to a regulated system."  (In my case, to stop eating all of the above, except the sushi rolls, drink a whole lot more water, and stop acting as the garbage disposal for my children's leftovers.)  "Diet" actually comes from a root meaning "to live one's life."  (In my case, I better get back to living my life according to the usual rules.)

When I was younger (before we had computers, or at least before we used them for anything other than playing Lemonade Stand and The Oregon Trail), I used to keep a journal of foods I ate (my own particular neuroses are outside the scope of this post . . . .).  Now, technology lends all sorts of help.  One little application that really works for me is Lose It!  Have you tried that one?  It helps you track your goals, food intake and exercise.  I've never used it for anything more than losing a few pounds here or there post-baby (or post complete derailment of all that is healthy and good for my body), but I imagine it would be effective even for long-term weight loss.  If you need a little kickstart and accountability, you might give it a try.

{P.S., While randomly and wistfully checking the FedEx package tracking for my iPad 2, I saw that it was actually (somehow!) to be delivered today.  That gadget made good time from Anchorage!  Well, I high-tailed home to be there to sign for it.  Wow did it help motivate my 2nd grader to study for her math test on the way home from school (with an application called MathBoard).  After I reclaim the thing from my three kids who are on 15 minute rotations ala the kitchen timer, I'll load up the Lose It app so I can stop the insanity.}

Wednesday's Word -- Color

I happened across this quote from Van Gogh:

"There is no blue without yellow and without orange."  

I like this.  As you can see in many of Van Gogh's paintings, he appreciated that juxtaposing complementary colors (like blue and orange) makes each color pop and seem brighter than it would otherwise.  Blue on its own isn't as blue as it could be if paired with orange or yellow, and vice versa.

Here's what he had to say about the technique:  "To exaggerate the fairness of hair, I  come even to orange tones, chromes and pale yellow . . . . I make a plain background of the richest, most intense blue that I can contrive, and by this simple combination of the bright head against the rich blue background, I get a mysterious effect, like a star in the depths of an azure sky."

He of course used this technique not just when painting hair, but nature too.

Taken as metaphor, "There is no blue without yellow and without orange" means (to me) that diversity is a beautiful thing.  The true potential of one thing (or person) may not reveal itself until put up against its complement.  Is your orange missing its blue?  Maybe you already have the blue background you need for your own personal pop, or maybe you need to find it.   

Ironically, the word "color" comes from an Indo European root (*kel-2) that means "to cover, conceal, save."  In a true sense, color can be a cover.  Paint the barn, paint the walls, paint your face.  Color may hide what lies beneath.

But color may also reveal.  On a technical level, color is the effect produced on the eye and its nerves by light waves of different wavelength or frequency.  Light transmitted from an object to the eye stimulates the different color cones of the retina, thus making it possible to perceive various colors in the object.

Yes, color brings a thing to life.  Makes me think of the original Wizard of Oz movie with the opening Kansas scenes in dreary hues of black and white, followed by colors that seem to burst from the screen once Dorothy reaches the Land of Oz.

Color can have that same effect on a smaller scale -- the food you eat, the clothes you wear, a pop of color in a room of your house.  Color can indeed save.  So go put something orange against an intense blue background and see what you see.  It might just improve your outlook on the day.

Wednesday's Word -- Illusion

I've been reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami and thinking about the word illusion.  (Don't take this as a recommendation of the book . . . .  Many parts are wonderfully metaphoric and creative, while other parts are worth skipping due to graphic descriptions that I can do without and still appreciate the tale  . . . .)  

Illusion comes from a root meaning to play or jest.  It finds its origin in the Latin illudere, meaning to mock at.  A client sent me this (almost hypnotic) optical illusion today, and it has me thinking about the reality that things are often not what they appear to be . . .       

Wednesday's Word -- Valentine

Comic Valentine from mid-19th Century: 
"R Stands for rod, which can give a smart crack,
And ought to be used For a day on your back."

It's that time of year again -- the time when I spend countless hours on the challenging quest for valentines that my daughters will agree to give to both male and female classmates alike on the one hand (can't actually say anything about LOVE), and that won't cost me an arm and a leg or require me to participate in the over-commercialization of the day on the other. 

{Did you know that "antivalentinism" is a word?!  No, I didn't either.  If you are either opposed to the consumerism that goes along with Valentines Day, or you don't appreciate being forced to express your love on a designated day, then you are an antivalentinist.  I suppose I satisfy both of those criteria, although my main issue is disdain for mass-produced cards with popular cartoon characters on them.  (As an aside, I may give Cinderella Ate My Daughter a read . . . .)} 

The hard truth is that the kids just want the little chocolate candy you've taped to the card anyway.  The rest ends up in the garbage.  But despite holding this truth to be self-evident, I can't stop myself from undertaking massively time-sucking efforts to craft homemade valentines.  The internet is a wonderful thing, and there are many great ideas out there.  Here's what we did last year.  And here's what we're doing this year.  (I think the deep truth is that I do in fact very much enjoy artsy-crafty things and am frustrated with the lack of right-brained activity in my life . . . . :)   

So, has your curious mind ever pondered on the origin of "Valentine"?  As far as I can tell, most of what we know is just speculation and conjecture.  Here are a few short bits. 

• Some say the day has its roots in an archaic Roman pastoral festival (Lupercalia) that was observed February 13 to 15.  But the festival had nothing to do with romantic love or friendship.  Rather it involved sacrifice of two goats and a dog and anointing of foreheads with sacrificial blood (wiped off the knife with wool soaked in milk).  Sounds fun.  I particularly like that the priests that have blood wiped on them are supposed to respond by smiling and laughing.  Okay.  Next up was a sacrificial feast with priests dressed in goatskins running around the walls of the city striking onlookers with thongs.  Girls and young women would line up on the route to happily receive lashes in order to encourage fertility and ease the pains of childbirth.  Put that on a Hallmark card!
• Some say the day finds its origins in the story of St. Valentine, who was reportedly executed because he was a Christian and wouldn't convert to Roman paganism.  Some even portray Valentine as a priest who was secretly performing marriages in violation of a law passed by Roman Emperor Claudius II (who supposedly thought unmarried men make better soldiers).  Another tale adds that Valentine healed the blind daughter of his jailer and left her a note on the eve of his execution that was signed "From your Valentine."  
• The first recorded link between Valentine's Day and romantic love came from Chaucer who penned in a verse to honor a royal engagement:  "For this was Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate."  I don't know, but isn't February still a bit cold for birds to be choosing mates (especially in England where Chaucer lived)? 
• It was many, many years before the modern day tradition of cards, candy and flowers.  (Which I must observe has since evolved into this typical scene:  I stop on the way home from work on February 14 to buy a few odd items at the local grocery store and witness a sad procession of men standing in the checkout line with flowers, chocolate and card in hand.  Now what's the point in that I ask you?) 
• The romantic aspect of the celebration started with hand-written notes and then handwritten notes eventually gave way to mass-produced greeting cards.  The gifts didn't come into the picture until the second half of the 20th century.  The U.S. Greeting Card Association estimates that approximately 190 million valentines are sent each year in the U.S.  And add to that an estimated 15 million e-valentines sent in 2010.  Wow.  

As for me, I don't plan on sacrificing any animals, nor on dressing in goatskin.  I don't care to be flogged in an effort to increase my fertility.  I will see if I can find any birds choosing their mates on February 14, but I'm skeptical.  Nor do I intend to purchase any valentine day cards.  That doesn't mean, however, that I'll abandon the valentine-day-crafting extravaganza that has taken over my dining room table.  That's just good clean fun.

Wednesday's Word -- Blizzard

It is at times such as these, that those of us in the valley of the sunstroke can feel good about our geographic choice for an abode.

As I walked across the plaza from my parking garage to my office building this morning, the chilled wind took my breath away, and I admit I actually thought for a minute that I needed a tunnel like they have for pedestrians in Minneapolis.  And then I laughed at the thin-blooded-wimp I've become, and trudged on.  (In my defense, it was actually in the 30s here in Phoenix this morning!)  First item on my work agenda this morning was a telephone conference with participants calling in from a handful of cities across the country, including Chicago.  They were calling in from their homes and could not even get out the front door.  My parents in northeastern Ohio are also dealing with major snow and ice storm conditions.  I was a bit in awe to find that there is already a Wikipedia entry for "Ground Hog Day Blizzard of 2011."  It's already gone down in history, and the day isn't even over yet.  

So, all of this has me thinking about the origin of the word "blizzard."  The etymology of the word is uncertain, but some sources say it's an onomatopoeia, like other suggestive words blow, blast, blister, and bluster.  Others have suggested that blizzard might be related to the French word blesser, meaning "to wound."  That sounds about right to me!  Others have suggested that the Blizzard family of Buckinghamshire, England (who migrated to the U.S.) gave their name to the massive storms we now call blizzards.  Or blizzard might come from the English word "blizzer," which was once used to describe a knock-down fight (a "blizzard of blows"), a blaze, a shot, or choking.  Again, that's fitting.

The word blizzard was first used to describe a massive snowstorm back in the 1860s, and now we use it all the time.  As for me, I'll just ponder the word from the warmth of my desert existence.

Wednesday's Word -- Brace

Last night, my 2 1/2 year old knocked into my mouth with an unexpected but powerful embrace, and the impact did not rip a bloody gash in my lip or the inside of my mouth.  That's right.  I finally had my braces removed yesterday.  What a relief to enjoy my child's exuberance without (as much) fear of injury!  So today, I'm thinking about the word "brace."


Let's start with the verb.  To "brace" is to steady, bind, or hold up another thing.  Think of an ankle brace (or sharp metal harm-inflictors on my teeth . . .).  It also means to prepare or position so as to be ready for impact or danger.  To get ready; make preparations.  To summon up strength and endurance.  As in, "brace yourself"!  (On a tangent, I remember my father often used to tell us kids to "get a grip on yourself."  We thought it was quite amusing to respond by tightly gripping some body part like an arm or a leg with a hand.  Oh, for the love of words!) 


The noun "brace" has a number of interesting meanings.  Of course, a "brace" is the device that performs the bracing.  But "brace" is also the name of the punctuation symbol I usually call a curly bracket { }.  Technically, you use that symbol to enclose lines of text or listed items that should be considered a unit.  {Or, like me, you sometimes use them because they're prettier than parentheses.}  I like the symbol even more, now that I know it's a brace intended to contain the pieces and parts that {left to their own devices} might go their separate ways.  Braces are also suspenders (if you're British).  And, although the meaning is now obsolete, a brace is a measurement of length representing a person's outstretched arms. 


Down to the root, "brace" comes from Old French meaning "the two arms."  How fitting that those curly "brace" brackets do in fact look like arms -- like an embrace.  As you could probably guess, to "embrace" means to surround with one's arms. 


And nothing holds you together better than the emBRACE of a toddler who loves you fiercely.

{Speaking of the love of words, have you read The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak?  I'm reading it now and enjoying it quite a bit.}

Wednesday's Word -- Resolution

Do you make New Year's Resolutions?  I typically am a big time resolutioner, but this year it seemed the most I could muster was the unimpressive likes of:

get out of bed
take care of kids
do job
keep it together

Not all that inspiring or resolutionary (if I can make that a word).  But you do what you can.  Sometimes that's more, and sometimes that's less.

Humor me while I share a few thoughts about the word "resolution.  Resolution comes from the Latin resolutionem, which means the "process of reducing things into simpler form."  Take the overwhelming whole and break it down into bite-size pieces.  It comes from the stem of resolvere, meaning "loosen."  So, now you know why a cleaner that claims to loosen and break down dirt might think to call itself "Resolve." 

Given my sub-par cleaning skills, it probably won't surprise you to know that I'm a bit more interested in other meanings of the word.  Resolution is also degree or sharpness of a computer-generated image (think pixels across and down your display screen).  Resolutions give you clarity.  Put all the pieces together and you get the picture. 

But here's my favorite meaning.  Resolution is the process in harmony whereby a dissonant (unstable) note or chord is followed by a consonant (stable) one.  I don't know about you, but I could use more consonance and less dissonance in 2011.  Here's to a resolutionary year.

Wednesday's Word -- Cancer

Photo by Danielle Hughson -- Flickr

"Is Enya music supposed to be calming?" I wondered, sitting stripped of all dignity, clothed in a one-size-fits-all robe in the waiting area at the imaging clinic.  Perhaps so, but the Enya music was making me frantic.   

One day, one night, one moment,

my dreams could be, tomorrow.

One step, one fall, one falter,

east or west, over earth or by ocean.

One way to be my journey,

this way could be my Book of Days.*

When you're waiting to find out whether lump = breast cancer, you don't need a reminder that you're standing at a crossroads.  Not even from the soothing likes of Enya.  

Have you ever wondered about the word "cancer"?  It's such an unfortunately common word these days.  According to the American Cancer Society, cancer is the second leading cause of death in the United States.  Half of all men and one-third of all women in the U.S. will develop cancer during their lifetimes.  

Did you know that the word "cancer" means crab?  Maybe you knew that, because Cancer is one of the twelve constellations of the zodiac.**

Has it ever occurred to you to question why we use the same word to describe a ruthless disease and a  crustacean crawling on the ocean floor?  I suppose there is some desperate connection.  As T.S. Eliot put it (indulge me my repeated references to this beloved poem),

"I should have been a pair of ragged claws / scuttling across the floors of silent seas."

I've always loved that line.  Good pacing words, they are.  

Turns out that long-ago Hippocrates (Greek physician and so-called father of medicine) used the Greek words carcinos and carcinoma for crab to describe tumors.  "Cancer" is the Latin word for crab.  It's said that Hippocrates thought the finger-like spreading projections from a cancer tumor looked like the shape of a crab.  Of course Hippocrates also believed that cancer is caused by an excess of black bile in any given site of the body (out of balance with the other lovely fluids of blood, phlegm, and yellow bile).  For the next 1400 years, people pretty much thought Hippocrates had it right.  

The ancient Egyptians, who documented the earliest cases of cancer (back in around 1500 BC), believed cancer was caused by the Gods.  The details were recorded on a papyrus, documenting eight cases of tumors occurring on the breast.  I shuddered to read that these tumors were treated by cauterization -- which involved destroying the tissue with a hot instrument called "the fire drill."  Gives new meaning to the need to get out NOW, doesn't it?  All alarms ringing.  

Thankfully, and after a tortured eternity of pondering my own far and away and book of days, I was called into another examination room, subjected to more humiliating examinations and tests (ironically performed with something the likes of Metallica in the background).  Then a smiling Doctor Gupta, summoned as messenger, informed me that I do not in fact have breast cancer.  

On the way home (after many long exhales and a short detour for some retail therapy), I found myself stuck for some time at an intersection.  A fire truck, several police cars, and a half-dozen emergency workers had taken over, lights flashing off the glass fragments littering the asphalt.  Metal crushed and folded in.  Stretcher waiting for the unmoving body extracted from what used to be a car.  For once, I wasn't even anxious or irritated by the traffic delay.  I just sat and thought and wondered and counted my blessings.  There are many ways to leave this life -- moving on to the floors of silent seas.  

*Lyrics from Enya's Far and Away.  I wonder is Enya referencing R. Chambers' 1869 The Book of Days, A Miscellany of Popular Antiquities?  Who knows.  The Book of Days has been described as a detailed description of key historical events, the life and times of people, both great and infamous, and long forgotten customs of cultures from every corner of the world.  

**I like the tale about Cancer, from the Twelve Labors of Hercules.  While Hercules was busy fighting the multi-headed Hydra monster, the goddess Hera (who hated her step-son Hercules) sent Cancer the crab to distract him.  Cancer tried to kill Hercules, but Hercules kicked Cancer so hard that it was sent into the sky.  I've witnessed what that crab can do to a person's life, and it does require something along the lines of a Herculean kick (along with a good dose of grace) to conquer it.  

Wednesday's Word -- Stupor

I've always been taught that if you're trying to make a tough decision and you find yourself in a "stupor of thought," it's probably not the right choice.  We're still trying to decide whether to buy a new house, and so I'm thinking about the word "stupor" today.  When I was young, I always thought the word sounded kind of like "stupid."  Turns out, it kind of does mean that.

Stupor

Stupor means a state of suspended or deadened sensibility.  It is a state of mental "torpor" or "apathy."  It is "stupefaction."  (Now, that's a word.)  Breaking it down, stup- means senseless, and the -or part means to be.  Put it together, and it is "to be senseless."  

One of the definitions of stupid is in fact "in a state of stupor; stupefied."  Broken down, "stupid" is stup- (senseless) + -id (full of).  So, somewhat paradoxically, "stupid" means full of emptiness.  I kind of like that.  

Torpor (love that word too) means a state of suspended physical powers.  It means sluggish inactivity or inertia.  It is dormancy, as in a hibernating animal.  Broken down, torpor means to be stiff or numb.  

Apathy is an absence of emotion, a lack of interest or concern; indifference.

The problem, however, is that I often experience stupefaction and torpor when it comes to making decisions, regardless of what I ultimately (should or do) choose.  I struggled to get myself out of bed this morning, but that might just mean I'm tired and lazy.  Stupefaction.  Facing a difficult choice makes me wish I could escape into hibernation, but that might just mean I have analysis paralysis.  Torpor.  The one word that doesn't fit me (really ever) is "apathy."  I'm pretty much never indifferent or lacking in emotion.  But that might just mean I'm opinionated.  

None of this means I can make a decision, of course.  Stupefy!          

Wednesday's Word -- Shame

Look at this!  I'm doing a Wednesday's Word post, and it's actually Wednesday.

I've been thinking about quite a few choice words this week, but the one on the tip of my tongue today is "shame."  The word "shame" refers to a painful emotion caused by a strong sense of guilt, embarrassment, unworthiness, or disgrace.  The root of the word is thought to derive from an older word meaning "to cover." Think Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, scrambling to cover themselves with fig leaves.

But the funny thing about "shame" is that we usually use the word when the recipients are not feeling shamed at all (and we think they should be).  Only the shameless deserve a "shame on you"!  

Here in Arizona, I often see picketers near my office building with large banners proclaiming:  "SHAME ON [FILL IN NAME OF COMPANY]"  (As an aside, I see that there was just a ruling last month that this sort of picketing is legal.)  When I first started seeing these years ago, I had to chuckle, especially because as far as I can tell, the people doing the shaming are employed specifically for that purpose (rather than because they themselves have a labor dispute or something).

Can't you just imagine?  "What do you do for a living, Bob?"  "Well, I shame people, how about you?"

And wouldn't it be something if you could hire these people to do some personal shaming for you?  Not that I would really do it, but I have to admit I like the idea of the "shame on" people camping out on a driveway to make the shaming point.  You could shame your spouse (or your friend's spouse), your children, and even yourself (you know, for failing to exercise, for dining on Kit Kats, for losing your temper with your children, etc., etc.).  "SHAME ON JESSICA!!!"

Wednesday's Word -- Foreign

Door in Tunis, Tunisia

The Tunisian woman in the photo I blogged about this week has me thinking about the word "foreign."  I am, admittedly, a word nerd.  But even for the less nerdy among us, you have to admit this is interesting.

Foreign

The word "foreign" means "of, pertaining to, or derived from another country or nation; not native."  It means "strange or unfamiliar."  But here's the fascinating (to me) thing.  The word comes from the Indo-European Root *dhwer-, which means door or doorway.  "Foreign" literally means "out of doors."  Something that is foreign is outside your comfort zone, your home, your enclosure.  She is on one side of the door, and you are on the other.  It's just a matter of opening the door and letting the outside in.  

Other words that come from the same root include forest (originally used to capture the idea of a place forbidden or protected by a barrier) and foreclosure (literally, put out of doors).  Isn't that interesting?  Come on, it is.  

Makes me love the beautiful foreign doors I discovered on my travels all the more. 

Post script:  this post evidences the fact that my days and weeks blur, and I often lose track of the days of the week.  Thus a Wednesday's Word post on a Tuesday.  Truth be told, sometimes I even get morning and night confused, as I stand staring into my medicine cabinet, trying to figure out whether to use the night moisturizer or the daytime sunscreen. 

Wednesday's Word -- Undermine

{Well, it's not Wednesday, but it sure feels like it to me}

If your family purchased a green-screened Apple II+ around 1983 or so (like mine did) you may remember the joys of playing Lode Runner (like I do).  Lode Runner was a miner who was an expert at digging holes, although if you played poorly (like I did), you often met your demise buried in holes of your own making.  Well, that's a metaphor for another day.

What I'm thinking about tonight, is the miner who digs holes and tunnels as a matter of strategy.  More specifically, I'm thinking about undermining.  

Undermine

You probably know that the word "undermine" means "to slowly weaken or injure; sabotage; subvert."  (I'd actually also like to take a closer look at the words injure, sabotage and subvert, but it's late so I'll stick with undermine for now.)  Or consider this definition (which I quite like):  "to injure or destroy by secret means or in imperceptible stages."  But more literally, to "undermine" is to "make an excavation under; dig or tunnel beneath; to weaken or cause to collapse by removing underlying support, as by digging away the foundation."  

UNDERMINE = Under (beneath) + Mine (passage beneath enemy fortifications)

The word "undermine" was originally coined as a military term.  The word "mine" has been used in the sense of "to dig under foundations to undermine them" since the late 14th century.  The verb "mine" began to be used in the 1620s to reference the tactic of tunneling under enemy fortifications to blow them up.  Consider this description from Wikipedia:

In warfare during the Middle Ages, a "mine" was a tunnel dug to bring down castles and other fortifications. The technique was used when the fortification was not built on solid rock, and was developed as a response to stone built castles that could not be burned like earlier-style wooden forts. A tunnel would be excavated under the outer defenses either to provide access into the fortification or to collapse the walls. These tunnels would normally be supported by temporary wooden props as the digging progressed. Once the excavation was complete, the wall or tower being undermined would be collapsed by filling the excavation with combustible material that, when lit, would burn away the props leaving the structure above unsupported and thus liable to collapse. Later, explosives were used for greater effect.   

Of course "mine" can also refer to an excavation for the purpose of extracting valuable gems and ores (that's what the Lode Runner was after, after all).  And it can also mean "that which belongs to me."  I kind of like that, because digging under another person's foundation does often result in excavation of something of value belonging to the undermined person.  


So, do you have any underminers in your life?  (I do.)  Or maybe you build up the fortress and then undermine it all on your own?  (I do.) 

Wednesday's Word -- Rest

I've been thinking about how important it is to REST.  As my husband reminded me yesterday, I am not a Standing Baba.  Neither are you.  So here are a few thoughts about the simple word REST.

To "rest" means to cease motion, work, or activity; to lie down; to be tranquil; to be temporarily still, quiet, or inactive.  "Rest" is absence of motion.  In music, a "rest" is a pause of a specified length.  THE "rest" is the part that is left over after something (e.g., your constant motion) has been removed.  The "rest" is what remains.  Interestingly, the word "rest" comes from an Indo-European root meaning "to stand."  "Rest" comes from the Latin restare, which broken apart is re, meaning back + stare, meaning to stand.  So, in other words, it means to stand back up.  The whole point of rest is to restore your ability to stand.

A pause is a good thing, don't you think?