I think it was in a Bill Bryson book, The Mother Tongue: English and How it Got that Way, years ago that I learned we have only preserved about 50 words from Old English into the English we use today, but those 50 words are very frequently used. Y'all feel free to fact-check me on that. I could be misremembering.

I do remember, however, that cob is the Old English word for spider. More properly, it was atorcoppe, cob for shorthand. Ator is poison, coppe technically means head, so spider. Another language or two still uses some form of atorcoppe as their word for spider. This is also why we say corncob, like a "head" of corn, which is strange because today it's only an ear of corn, not the whole head.

I find it interesting that ator means poison, but has a different etymology than the word adder, the venomous snake, which can be traced back to Proto-Indo-European language as netr, and successively the latin natrix, and so on to naddre in Middle English and then adder today.

Lob is in the same boat as cob. So, in Lord of the Rings, the character of Shelob, daughter of Ungoliant, who is a giant evil spider, is named as such to hold the meaning "she-spider." Given how little information is conveyed about a character with such a giant impact on the story, both literally and figuratively, I find it interesting that she's given such a mysterious-sounding name simply representing the most basic of observable characteristics. Fitting.

The Rules

I used to care much more about the rules of English grammar. A lot of people care about these rules. They grade you on them. It's a threat to your livelihood if you don't follow the rules in your resume and cover letter.

Who made these rules, did you ever wonder?

White, academically educated white men who owned capital.

There's a reason that AAVE is punished in a classroom and in the workplace.

It's always interesting to me when people argue over grammar and semantics. As someone fascinated with languages and who speaks a few at varying levels, I actually find it much more interesting the things that people say without words. I find it interesting the information people convey along with the words. I find it interesting the way that the same words can be used in the same order and communicate completely different ideas depending on the inflection, the way the words are said. I find it fascinating how two people can say the same words, in the same order, with the same inflection, but communicate completely different ideas because of who said them, or because the context is different.

The Letter

I've done a bit of studying for the LSAT, though not enough to raise an eyebrow, and I was never committed. I'm not much of one for the rule of law, though I'm not for tyranny, either. I'm an anarchist. However, I live in a society built on these laws and though I prefer for systemic change, I also understand the benefits of harm reduction within the contexts where I can be useful. I was toying with the idea of being a Public Defender or maybe becoming some sort of activist lawyer akin to William Kunstler, maybe? I would hardly be the first anarchist to become a lawyer as a Public Defender.

The words, though. It's amazing how much weight we put into words. We base our entire system of so-called justice on words. Words are so delicate and finicky. They don't convey as much as we wish they would. Some words are oxymoronic and others are lies. We build internal logic into the way we build our languages, and then we claim paradoxes when we conflate words with concepts or reality.

I've been meaning to write more on the idea of language as a construct representing internal logic, but take this as teaser.

We believe that we imbue meaning into sounds issued from our mouths, pressed into clay, and inked into paper. We don't. We're merely lubricating a pathway of meaning and connection between two people.

We build contracts out of these words and enforce them to the letter instead of to the intention. We write contracts to enforce our will and control upon the effects of time and upon each other. We don't connect and re-examine our collective needs, we enforce the letters of agreement, divorced from shared need, and only with respect to our own.

We write laws and enforce them with respect to power and not to necessity or empathy. We enforce the letter of the law through language without any respect for empathy or humanity, but only to the letter; however, language is, at its core, a tool to facilitate human connection and the sharing of ideas.

Instead, we turn the tool into a weapon. Ploughshares into swords.

Clearing the Cobwebs

I've written most of maybe five other pieces for this newsletter in the last couple weeks. All of them false starts. The ideas were there but the words were wrong, or maybe it was the opposite, I'm not sure. Healing from emergency gallbladder surgery does a lot to a person, apparently, and more than I realized it would. My mind needs clearing, still. I didn't expect that.

Truth be told, witnessing the vernal awakenings all around us in this season have also been calling me. The birds singing, the blossoms in bloom.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Spring cleaning. Among a mountain of things I've released in the last few weeks, unburdened myself, was my childhood toybox. It was never very full. That's another boring, sad story. It did have a couple old stuffies in it. I touched them, I said goodbye, and I let them go.

I'm not a hoarder, but it's a lot of time, effort, and cost, to empty an old farmhouse that was first filled with other people's things before filling it with your own old things and then new ones.

But as the spaces clear of the things that I can finally unburden myself from, I find space. With space, I have freedom. The light comes through the windows and shines throughout. More space means more room for friends and connection. More room to play cards with the kids. More time together.

A couple of nights ago, the family was playing cards. One of my kids and I laughed until we cried. We cheated so hard. The rest of the family just found it hilarious how fun the two of us were having cheating together at the game.

Unburdening

It's been said that there are greater differences between the different dialects of Arabic than between the different Romance languages. It's also been said that the difference between a dialect and a language is the size of the military behind it. Most people say that Latin is a dead language, but I say that anyone who speaks a Romance language is simply speaking a dialect of Latin. Whether we're speaking English, Arabic, or Latin, we're still all speaking variations of an earlier Proto-Indo-European (PIE) language. Alexander the Great once commanded an empire that stretched from India to Europe. My ascendents spent thousands of years living within the approximate full length of that stretch, East to West, until only a little over one hundred years ago when they moved from Polish Galicia to the US, where my children and I still speak a native language descended from PIE.

We can't unburden ourselves from the history of our language, all that has been bundled and burdened, word upon word, year upon year, millennium upon millennium, except that we can– perhaps not completely, but we can.

When we listen, we can understand that definitions are descriptions. We can ignore the text and discover the subtext. We can listen with our hearts more than our ears– a head of corn, an ear of corn. What an interesting change. When someone makes a request, a complaint, or a demand, we can understand that we all have wants and needs, and that we only have the imperfection of words to communicate these wants and needs.

A baby cries because they have no words to communicate. They are upset. That is all they know to express. As we age and learn to speak, we become increasingly sophisticated in expressing these wants and needs through our system of words, of language.

We taught our kids some basic American Sign Language (ASL) before they could voice words. Using the mouth to form words is complicated. Hands are simpler for a baby. Our children were so much more relieved, so much happier, and cried so much less, when they could communicate their wants and needs with words formed by their hands. We still use a very modest amount of ASL daily in our home, adding to our collective vocabulary occasionally.

However, when we have difficulty expressing, understanding, or being understood, every one of us becomes frustrated. It's distressing to feel, but to not be seen, understood, or acknowledged.

What is the point of any of these words if not for this?

The Rules

Grammar. Spelling. Words. Syntax. Pronouns.

The rules you've been taught don't matter.

The rules are descriptive, not prescriptive. Where the rules cause confusion, hurt, or injustice, the rules are wrong.

What we understand of each other is what matters, and our connection, our empathy is what matters.

Despite my words about words, these words are not simply about words. This isn't just about language.

This is about rules.

My kid and I cheated at cards. Our entire family had one of the best nights. Nobody won that game. It didn't matter. None of us played cards to win. We played cards to have fun together as a family. We only cheated as a lark. The rest of the family was in on the gag. It didn't matter. We laughed until we cried.

Then we had fudgesicles. My kids pronounce every consonant. My spouse is exasperated when I purposely say fudgiggles, but everyone thinks it's funny.

Why are you doing this?

Why are you doing what you're doing? What's the point?

I have a pet theory that if speed limits were still posted as safety guidelines but unenforceable, we might (eventually) build a culture of respect for the speed limit based on safety and concern for each other and for our own lives, and that people would be more likely to respect those speed guidelines. Perhaps it would require that same sense of culture to permeate through the rest of our lives and systems, but the point remains that if people were more concerned about each other's needs, and less about the rules, we would all suffer less harm.

Why are you doing what you're doing? When you follow the rules, why?

Do you follow the rules because you care about others, or is it because you don't want to suffer the consequences? Or do you just hate the idea of being a rule-breaker because of the sense of supremacy that you were taught about these rules?

Are you afraid to spel ur wrds wrng bc it looks unprofessional or bad grammer or whatevs? RU scare it mabye look less good? Wrried wut ppl might think?

You're certainly not worried about being understood, because I'm certain you understood all of that. So what is it, then?

Or is it this: are you afraid of losing your place in the hierarchy?

More significantly perhaps, do you mentally place others within a slot on the hierarchy based on their compliance and conformity with the rules of spelling, grammar, and adherence to the laws of society?

Do you try to enforce these rules with others? What, are you a cop?

Why are you doing what you're doing?

When you follow the rules, do you ever wonder if you're actually missing out on the subtext?

Do you ever wonder if you're actually focusing on connecting with another person's humanity?

Are you content with a society based on contracts and letter of the law?

Society is what you make it. Most days you don't encounter the law, but on the other hand, most days you do encounter other people, in some way or another.

We could be building a society where we don't focus on policing the words, but upon understanding the meaning intended. We could be building a society where we don't focus on the rules, but on caring and respect for each other's wants and needs.

Society is what you make it.

What society are you building?

no ends, only means