Wait for the Stars

The dark has fallen, 

But wait for the stars.

The darkness may be deepening, 

But wait for the stars.

Even if the clouds pour rain upon you,

They must soon pass, so wait,

Wait for the stars.

I know you fear the darkness you have already seen,

But this is not an endless nightmare.

Wait for the stars.

You are haunted by the dark of broken dreams,

But this is only the nighttime, 

Wait for the stars.

No matter how dark it is,

Or how dark it was,

There is always hope, 

Even if it is very small and very far away.

Even if it is only one faint star in the whole of the sky.

Do not let the darkness overwhelm you,

One star will always bring more.

Just wait.

Please wait.

Wait for the stars.

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Rest Gently Shadow my boy.  One day I will see you again in the stars.  Til then I will wait for grief to pass slowly like the nighttime.  I will trust in the stars even when I cannot see them.  Soon, soon one will shine and the light will increase and slowly the grief will fade.  

Jane Austen’s Persuasion and the Moral of Persuasion as a Virtue

Persuasion is a story about Anne Elliot and Frederick Wentworth who were in love eight and a half years ago.  Her friend Lady Russel persuades Anne that it's not wise to marry a penniless naval officer when she is only 19, so she refuses Frederick.  Eight and a half years later Anne's father has spent so much money they must move to Bath and rent out Kellynch Hall to tenants.  Admiral and Mrs. Croft, the sister of the now wealthy Captain Frederick Wentworth become the tenants of Kellynch Hall.  It's a story about pride, choices, persuasion, and second chances.  Or perhaps even third chances.  It's moving, emotional, and mature in a way that appeals to those of us who have lived through some difficult choices, that is to say, lived.

Part of the charm of this story, and one might argue, every Austen story, is the thoughtful way it deals with flawed traits.  A casual observer might say that Anne is flawed because she is too weak-willed, too willing to be persuaded to other points of view.  In fact, Frederick believes it at first when he is still bitter about being refused.  However, as the story progresses it becomes increasingly clear that persuasion, like any trait, has its good sides.  A person's strength is often their weakness.  So the story goes about telling us how the weakness of Anne at 19 is actually her strength at a more mature age.

The story of Persuasion tells us repeatedly that being capable of being persuaded to see reason and amend one's own position based on logic and rationale is a good thing, even when it has difficult consequences.  Those characters who cannot be persuaded to be sensible, who act only on feelings, end up feeling the consequences in visibly negative ways.  People who can't be persuaded end up: insolvent because they can't be persuaded to spend money wisely (like Sir Walter), friendless because they cannot be persuaded to see value in people outside of social rank and flattery (like Elizabeth), severely injured because they cannot be persuaded that their ideas are foolish and dangerous (like Louisa), or even alone because they cannot be persuaded to overcome their pride (like Captain Wentworth at first).

Persuasion as a Force of Good

Sir Walter judging the appearance of a naval man

At every turn success and well-being of the characters comes with the ability to be persuaded to see and act rationally.  Sir Walter and Elizabeth enjoy better society in Bath once they are persuaded to go there to live more cheaply and attempt to pay their debts.  Captain Benwick is able to rejoin the happy and lively world of the future once he is persuaded that he should read more prose and should think of moving forward now, not living solely in the past.  Only after he realizes that he must, does he find Louisa agreeable enough to pursue and marry.  Anne is persuaded that the Elliot pride is directly hindering her happiness and starts to act against it by fighting to maintain friendships her family does not approve of and ultimately trying to show Captain Wentworth her feelings.  Captain Wentworth is persuaded to overcome his pride and finally pursue Anne in Bath, and it is from that decision that his happiness ultimately stems.

Persuasion can be a moderating force.  It can help you balance out your tendencies towards pride, towards vanity, towards making rash decisions.  It can help encourage good behavior and ameliorate foolish ideas.  No person is without flaws.  This is part of the reason why it is important to have intelligent people around you who want good things for you.  These friends can help you balance out mistakes and misunderstandings with different perspectives and smooth out flaws in yourself with their influence, their persuasion.

Persuasion as a Portion of Duty - Material Considerations

At the heart of the story is that first act of persuasion by Lady Russel, which led Anne to be persuaded by duty and logic not to accept Captain Wentworth when she was only 19 and he was a young penniless naval officer.  Some people and adaptations think this was a bad thing, but Jane Austen tells us it was not.  Anne doesn't regret being persuaded to not accept Captain Wentworth when they were so young and he was penniless.  I think both Anne and Lady Russel were aware that Elizabeth was not likely to make a good match, none of the daughters were going to inherit the estate, they weren't even on speaking terms with the heir.  They had no dowry, considering that Sir Walter had spent every penny and was in shocking piles of debt.  It looked as though Anne would have to marry well to be safe and possibly care for her sisters once Sir Walter had gone.  Was it fair that she was therefore persuaded that love was not enough?  No.  But it was a very rational choice at the time.  Even if he had been prosperous straight off, if he had died immediately (a possibility in a war), she would have been left a widow.  We see in both Mrs. Clay and Mrs. Smith, both widowed very young, that such a situation leaves the women vulnerable and leads to some difficult choices for them.

  And Anne says that she considered it a duty to Lady Russel who she considered a mother figure, to listen to her advice in that matter.  She did not regret being persuaded in that case.  Anne tells Wentworth "I was perfectly right in being guided" by Lady Russell "to me, she was in the place of a parent.  I am not saying that she did not err in her advice." Only that "I was right in submitting to her, and that if I had done otherwise I should have suffered more in continuing the engagement than I did even in giving it up because I should have suffered in my conscience.  I have now, as far as such a sentiment is allowable in human nature, nothing to reproach myself with; and if I mistake not, a strong sense of duty is no bad part of a woman's portion".

Being persuaded not to accept Captain Wentworth before he had made any money was a wise decision at the moment that is was made at the behest of a person she considered a mother figure.  She regretted that it had kept them apart after Frederick had returned with money and a promising future in the navy, but not that she had been persuaded those eight and half years ago.  The reason this novel feels like it has a more adult perspective is because it is many ways concerned with analysing past choices and learning from previous mistakes, a thing all adults must do to grow.  It is possible to look back and think that a decision was the right one at the time but also regret what it's current consequences are.  To be able to say you were glad that you were guided by your parent figure, Lady Russel, but also that you know her advice was wrong.  And to blame neither yourself nor her.  That's a very difficult thing to do but is a part of having an older perspective on life.

Persuasion vs. Pride/Stubbornness 

As with all Jane Austen novels, this story has a subtlety and a nuance that I love.  It does not advocate for anyone to constantly be persuaded out of the things they want and should do, nor to be incapable of being persuaded to do the right things against what your current desires may be.  Jane Austen, this story demands that a balance of these qualities is necessary.

Captain Wentworth almost loses Anne because his hurt pride leads him to stubbornly not reach out to her when he returns that first year with money enough to keep her.  After they have finally reconnected at the end of the book he admits to her that it was pride that had prevented him from writing to her when he had a few thousand pounds a ship under his command.  They both realize they could have avoided the last few years of misery and separation if he had done so.

Captain Wentworth nearly loses Anne again when his pride, still hurt, eight and half years later, leads him to court Louisa.  He only learns his lesson when, at Lyme, he realizes that Louisa and her whole family are expecting him to offer Louisa marriage as soon as she is well.  He says he removes himself from Lyme to allow her to heal and lessen her attachment as much as is honourable.  But he was willing to marry her against his wishes because it was the right thing to do.  If the whole family expects an engagement, he is toying with Louisa's reputation and that is unpardonable because it could affect her chances for a happy future.  The moment he realizes he must balance his desires against the realities of his actions is the moment he grows as a character.  Luckily, Louisa and Captain Benwick become attached during her recovery and Frederick is free to pursue Anne as he wishes, swallow his pride, and come to find her in Bath.

Anne and Henrietta show different sides of the same decision.  Henrietta was almost persuaded by Mary's nonsense that she shouldn't marry Henry Hayter.  Jane Austen sets this up as an example of being too weak-willed and gentle.  She is not being persuaded against Henry Hayter for good and logical reasons.  Henrietta is being persuaded out of Mary's unreasonable dislike of him, and a foolish desire to continue flirting and being flattered with Captain Wentworth who is so dashing and charming and new.  She ought to have stuck to her purpose when there was no logical reason to be persuaded otherwise.  She learns this in time to win back her intended.  Then there is Louisa who is a foil to Anne.  She is too stubborn and heedless to be persuaded of anything.  This is a character trait that first attracts Captain Wentworth who is trying to forget Anne by courting someone completely unlike her.  Louisa who is too stubborn to even see reason (let alone propriety and duty) ends up unconscious on a pier, nearly dead because of it.

For Anne, being persuaded to give up Frederick at 19, was the right choice.  However, when they meet again, she is too proud to express her feelings, as is he and they suffer through a few more things before it all works out in the end.

Finding the Balance

When Anne and Captain Wentworth are reconciled and together at the end of the book he tells her how he finally had begun to see Anne's true character at Lyme when he had occasion to witness what being far too stubborn could be dangerous.   Captain Wentworth describes Anne as being the "loveliest medium of fortitude and gentleness"  At Lyme, he says he had "learnt to distinguish between the steadiness of principle and the obstinacy of self-will, between darings of heedlessness and the resolution of a collected mind. There he had seen everything to exalt in his estimation the woman he had lost; and there begun to deplore the pride, the folly, the madness of resentment, which had kept him from trying to regain her when thrown in his way."  Anne was in that elusive middle ground between firmness of character and capable of being guided.

Jane Austen urges us to consider that it is the middle ground that is ideal.  Being capable of sticking to your purpose but also knowing when logic must prevail over feelings.  Having both learned their lessons, Anne and Wentworth are now adults who have addressed some of their flaws and are ready to enter into a healthy relationship.  Anne learned that she must be more firm in her purpose now that she is an adult and refuses to be persuaded into marrying Mr. Elliot or from canceling her plans to visit Mrs. Smith for an impromptu visit of the Dalrymples.  Captain Wentworth learned that his pride and stubbornness were preventing him from being happy and he learns to act less on his surface emotions and more on rational plans to pursue his own real happiness.  Jane Austen argues the couple is happier for being reunited, "more tender, more tried, more fixed in a knowledge of each other's character, truth, and attachment; more equal to act, more justified in acting."  We know that Anne and Frederick have grown as people and will have a very happy marriage indeed.

More Jane Austen Please!

If you are interested in more discussion of Jane Austen, I have more for you.

For a start, you can see my ranking of every movie adaptation of Persuasion on this page here.

And if that's not enough don't worry you can see my discussions of the movie adaptations of all the other Jane Austen novels and even, a mad attempt at ranking them all together.  Why did I do this?  I think I must be crazy.  Oh wait, we already knew this.  Anyway...

To see my ranking of Every Jane Austen Adaptation, go here.
To see my ranking of all the Pride and Prejudice adaptations you can go here.
To see my ranking of all the Emma Adaptations you can go here.
To see my ranking of all the Sense and Sensibility adaptations you can go here.
To see my ranking of all the Mansfield Park Adaptations you can go here.
To see my ranking of all the Northanger Abbey Adaptations you can go here.

For my discussion of the Lady Susan Adaptation (Love and Friendship), you can go here. 

To see my ranking of all the "Not-Quite-Austen's" you can go here.

I have a whole page dedicated to Jane Austen where you can find my rankings of different movie adaptations and essays etc.

All Things Jane Austen

Hope Writer Challenge - Remember

Today for @hopewriters writing challenge #hopewriterlife the topic is Remember.

When we talk about remembering it is important to keep in mind that memory is not perfect. It is perfectly possible to forget something that felt momentous at the time whereas seemingly insignificant things can linger for years to come.

I find that it is almost more important to record the little things that happen. The small moments that mean so much in life because life is not a straight forward journey. For me, I'm making sure to record the little things that surprise me during this time of global pandemic. I want to remember in years to come the things that made me smile in the midst of tragedy, the moments of friendship that lightened my load and encouraged me. I want to record for posterity the things that surprised me during this time and the things that I learned.

I used this double photo (in a spinning double sided frame) for today's image because I feel it represents life both in its journey and its singular strength and beauty. There are things I wish I could forget about this time, burdens I do not wish to bear. This frame sits on my desk to remind me that life is a journey much like a spiral staircase. It's as much about going sideways and around as it is about going up. Progress in life is often accomplished by going many steps sideways before you go forward.

On the other side is a photo of two buildings from two very different ages, both beautiful. It is straight lines and reflections. These buildings tell me that strength and beauty look different in different times. Every age of your life holds a different piece of your truth. Your strength and beauty grows and changes with time reflecting your progress, your journey. You are no less strong or beautiful for having different shapes and emphases in different ages of your life. Even as you reinvent yourself, it is built upon your old strength, just as the older building is reflected in the windows of the newer one.

May this remind you, as it does me, that even if you're different from the other buildings, you are still beautiful. You are still strong. You just need to keep following your own lines. Be your own building, for that is where your strength and beauty lies. 

Remember that and it will help you through the tough days when all your steps go sideways and you cannot see the end of the winding stairs. 

Remember too, that even when nobody around you looks like you, you are strong and beautiful and that your steps will wind upwards slowly even when you can't see it.

Making Art When Your Heart is Broken

There is a beautiful quote by Shane L. Koyczan:

"If your heart is broken, make art with the pieces." Shane L. Koyczan

When my heart is broken that's what I try to do.  I try to pick up the pieces and bravely find beauty.  I turn my sadness, my brokenness, my trauma into art.  I write of darkness and hope.  I write of crying and grieving.  I write of carrying on even if that means sitting down to cry.  

I have recently realized that part of this need to create art with my brokenness is because I have far too many feelings to leave them bottled up inside.  They well up, they overwhelm and then they overflow into what I do.  

This is Strach the Opossum, he is currently reading the Highly Sensitive Person and some Poetry by W.E. Henley and doing a bit of journaling.

I'm reading a book called The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You by Elaine N. Aron, Ph.D.  In it she has some very interesting research that talks about sensitive people.  Roughly 20% of the population is sensitive.  It is a real, measurable and scientifically proven trait.  And yes, we do feel everything more deeply.  This has to do, in short, with mirror neurons.  The way that mirror neurons work is that if you watch someone else kick a soccer ball your brain will have activity in the same area that moves the leg etc.  Because even just watching someone else do something, your brain processes the movements and so forth, so you feel a tiny fraction of what they are doing or feeling.  

They've done lots of research that I won't bore you with here, that proves that highly sensitive people have much more activity in their mirror neurons.  What does that mean?  That means that when you tell us a sad story, we empathize much more deeply than 80% of the population.  We really do feel it more.  You can read more about her book and blogs on the Highly Sensitive Person Website.

What that means for me is I feel everything so intensely that it often overflows or overwhelms me.  In the last few weeks I've been struggling to re-contextualize many of the struggles I've had all my life with this new knowledge that I'm not just "weak" or "too sensitive", that I'm actually processing and feeling more than 80% of my fellow men.  So, I'm frequently up crying about a story that someone has told me, hours after they've forgotten it.  I have trouble sleeping during this time of intense injustice and death.  I fear for the lives of everyone struggling with the unseen menace of Covid-19 and the insidious disease of Racism.  And I feel it all so very deeply that I can't sleep.  

So, I must do something. I often carry the burdens of other people's sadness long after it's healthy for me to do so.  I wrote about a person I met only once and couldn't stop thinking about in my post The Loneliness of a Stranger.  Often I feel sad for people I can't help.  I worry about people I'll never see again.  And I sometimes catch myself feeling glum about abandoned objects.  I personify them and feel sad for their loneliness.  It's too much.  So I write.  I write about the sadness and I write about hope.

I've written multiple posts about the heart and the heaviness that can live there.  I've written The Heart is the Final Frontier, and When a Glass Heart Shatters, and Mending a Heart of Glass.  In those I talk of hardships and how I dealt with them, the way I grieved and my new theory that it takes nine months to rebuild and repair a heart and I think it's no coincidence that it's the same amount of time it takes to create a brand new heart.

I've written of hardships but also of hope, of love and support.  I wrote about rekindling broken dreams in Stars in the Darkness.  

I make art with my heartbreak.  If it helps one person feel less alone it was worth sharing.  If it is only read by me, but it allows me to sleep, it's worth writing.  

And lately I've decided to try to make more positive beautiful things to fill the world with joy.  Don't get me wrong, I'll still write about sadness and darkness.  I think toxic positivity is a blight.  It denies us the true depth of feelings and the ability to heal through grief and sitting with and working through our sadness.  You cannot just plaster a smile on some things and pretend you don't need to feel.  It's not healthy or productive.  But that being said, while I do need to cry and grieve, and talk about my sorrows, I always want there to be hope.  Just like I wrote poetically about the journey through happiness, depression and back in Winter Without Happiness.  I still talk about the darkness, but I don't leave it there, I try to always end with hope.

So, of late, I have been trying to fill the world with hope and joy and beauty.  I'm trying to take my fears and my anxieties and acknowledge them but gently put them to the side and make beautiful things anyway.  I've been trying to write a book and it's hard and I'm nervous about not being good enough.  What if I don't do the story justice?  What if I write it poorly?  What if I don't portray my characters fairly?  What if I really don't have any idea what I'm doing and it all fails horribly?  

This is my writing buddy, the opossum named Strach.  He looks capable doesn't he?

If you had to characterize my inner fears and nature as an animal, I'm an opossum.  I'm a terrified baby opossum, with my mouth open swaying back and forth from terror.  About to pass out from fright.  It's not pretty.  It's pathetic really (in a melodramatic and slightly comical way).  So I ordered myself a tiny plush opossum friend to sit beside my computer when I try to write.  I've named him Strach, the Czech word for fear.  Whenever I get nervous I look at Strach and I pet him nicely, talking to him softly with compassion, and I reassure him and my fears, and then I keep writing. 

And this is so common for all creatives to have crippling doubts and horrible unspoken fears of unworthiness.  I've been trying to address this inner fear, this inner critic, this inner doubter with calm logic.  Because these overwhelming fears don't hold up with logic.  What if I can't do justice to the story?  Then I will make edits until I do.  What if I write it poorly?  I will learn to write better through practice and I'll make edits.  What if I don't portray my characters fairly?  I'll have readers help tell me how they feel and I'll write a second draft.  What if I really don't have any idea what I'm doing and it all fails horribly?  I can only fail if I stop trying.  I'll learn what I don't currently know and keep working on it til it works.  I like to address these because there's usually a secret fear under those that comes out last.  For instance, it'll go something like.  What if I'll never be good enough?  Or, I don't know anything!  And you feel so much better if you say, I am good enough to try and I'll keep learning til I get there.  Or, I know lots of things!  And I can always learn more.

So, I'm trying to gently set aside fear and anxiety and hurt and write of hope and beauty.  I'm trying to make art with all the broken pieces of my heart.  

And if it takes me an entire lifetime of creating beautiful things to make up for the pain and sorrow I've witnessed, then it will be a life well lived.  

Recreating Paintings in Quarantine

During the lockdown in southern California I have been keeping busy.  I'm doing some freelance writing, I'm reading, I'm cleaning and I'm doing art.

I'm doing all kinds of art.

I have begun painting, making dollhouse miniatures and most recently I've started recreating paintings with things from around the house.  This whole thing was started by The Getty Museum Challenge and you can find other fine recreations under the hashtags #gettymuseumchallenge and #betweenartandquarantine

For the first one depicted below I've recreated Tissot's painting, The Widower.

My Recreation and Tissot's The Widower

And that was so much fun that I decided I need to recreate a few more paintings.


So here is my recreation of Henry Fuseli's The Nightmare.

The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli and a recreation with Jojo the cat.

The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli












My recreation of The Nightmare - featuring my cat AKA Jojen aka JoJo

I didn't want my dogs to feel left out by all the fun that Cat and I were having so the next few recreations involve them.

This is Charles van den Eycken's painting titled "Willpower" 1891

My poor fools were so confused about what they could and couldn't eat after this they almost were reluctant to take the treats when I gave them to my boys by hand.

Next is the recreation of Briton Rivière's painting Requiescat from 1888.

Shadow snuffled my hand for treats the entire time we tried to do this photo.  Not smiling was almost harder than keeping his attention when he thought treats were a hopeless endeavor and tried to give up.

Next is a recreation of Compulsory Education, also painted by Briton Rivière.

Do not let Rocky's mournful eyes deceive you.  He was so excited by the treats that came out of this photoshoot that he happily traipsed over for more than one take.  

The next painting is untitled but commonly referred to as Knight Resting with Dog by Nicaise De Keyser

The amazing armour dress and leggings I'm wearing are from Lorica Clothing, the Sackville skater dress and the Sackville leggings. All of their products are amazing, if you have need of comfy armour dresses or leggings I advise you look for them at Lorica Clothing.

The next is a painting by Thomas Weaver and is titled The Dunearn Ox c.1812-1815

No, really though, why are so many portraits of cows so rectangular?  If you're interested in this particular phenomenon you may want to check out this article on rectangular cows in UK art. 

I thought my rabbit had a nice scale next to my "cow".  Doesn't Shadow make a fine cow? I thought so anyway.  So, I decided to take advantage of his lovely cowhide (tshirt situation) and take another pastoral photograph with Rocky too.

This one, Animals Resting in the Pasture is a painting by Paulus Potter

Aren't my cows fine? Don't I make an enviable farmer? I'm marriageable at the very least, if I'm not the envy of the county with such fine cows as these.  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of a fine herd of dogs, I mean cows, must be in want of a husband.  Or perhaps just an occupation.

Ok, so technically this next one is a woodcut not a painting.  But I think it still counts, it's very much a recreation.  

This is a woodcut by Hans Holbein the Younger called either the Chandler or The Peddler for the Dance of Death series c.1526.

and here is my recreation of it...

In Defense of a Murder of Crows

I read an article today that denounced the phrase Murder of Crows in particular and all other "absurd" words for groups of animals. While I accept that some of these terms, venery, dating from the Middle Ages, may in fact be antiquated I had several points at which I did not agree with the article. If you are interested you may find the original article here.

"Squamish 2015-01-11 064-LR" by jamesabbott1963 is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 

The first question Mr. Nicholas Lund asks is whether anyone actually uses these terms, because he contends that he has never heard them used. I've not going to sit here and argue that everyone uses all the plural animal nouns all the time.  However, if the author has never heard any grouping words for animals used aside from flock and herd, I would say he hasn't been talking to enough people in the world. I've heard plenty of them used by real people in all seriousness including the following terms: 

· Bats: colony 

· Bees: hive, swarm 

· Camels: caravan, train, or herd 

· Crows: murder 

· Dogs: litter (of puppies), pack (in the wild), 

· Dolphins: pod 

· Geese: gaggle 

· Lions: pride 

· Porpoises: pod, school 

· Prairie dogs: colonies 

· Rabbits: colony, nest, warren 

· Whales: pod 

· Wolves: pack 

· Vipers: nest 

Now, I agree that are some incredibly odd terms for specific animals are not used in normal parlance. I admit that I've never heard someone refer to a collective group of bears as a sleuth or rhinos as a stubbornness. But then, I also don't live in a place where I run into wild groups of rhinos. If I was late to work because a group of rhinos parked themselves in the road I could reasonably call them a stubbornness because it would describe the belligerent way that they collectively made my morning more difficult. Luckily, that has never happened to me in the Southwestern United States. But I have personally referred to bees as a hive and swarm, and geese as a gaggle, and crows as a murder, and I've heard plenty of other people do so. 

A small murder perched on a wire. - "Evening chat" by -Niloy- is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

Mr. Lund tries to argue that scientists don't use them and therefore nobody really does. That's simply not an accurate sampling of the population. It might prove that scientists don't use those terms but it doesn't answer his posed question: 

Are there actual people in the real world who use special group names for certain species? Or is there just one nerd in an office somewhere with a field guide in one hand and a dictionary in the other, matching each species with a cute little term and laughing maniacally when the world collectively coos over the pairing? 

After he proves that scientists don't use terms of venery he claims that they exist only in the "world of bar trivia," where, "without real-world applications" they are "just morsels of linguistic candy rotting cavities into our scientific integrity".  I argue that trivia is not really the point of these group names. I don't argue that the terms have no scientific value. My problem is in the vehemence with which he believes the words should be removed from the English language. He proposed we replace them with bland but more scientific words like group.

No doubt calling this crow a visitor or a friend is also a transgression against the purity of scientific integrity but I like the photographer's point of view - "Crow visitor" by Fernettes is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 

Would you really say... "Oh look at this group of jellyfish on the beach"?  You'd probably at least say this whole group, or, look at all of these jellyfish or, look there's thousands of jellyfish!  Because using the word group alone is too boring and entirely lacking in descriptive power. If thousands of jellyfish were surrounding a boat that I happened to be floating in, and they were slapping into the sides with every swell of water that lapped against the edges of my boat, I would probably call them a smack in that case too. I'd probably lean over the edge watch them smack into the boat, look further out and see an endless flotilla of them and say "Oh my God there's a smack of jellyfish out here, look!" Maybe it would come out slightly differently, but I would bet you substantial money that I would not say "look a GROUP of jellyfish!" 

Language is sometimes about tone and sometimes about feeling. And you can't convey those things with the word group.  I'm not arguing that some of these other words, these terms of venery, have any scientific value.  I merely believe that they have literary and poetic value.

Could you really capture the mood and tone of this moment by describing it as a group of three crows on a  roof?  I contend that you cannot. - "Cathedral of Our Lady" by marikoen is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0 

I personally have not heard people say "a group of crows". I admit that I'm unusual and have unusual preferences, but it would stand out to me if people said group, because it would not be my preferred word for this context. I don't hear people use this. I've heard them use an exact count of the crows or the word flock, but honestly, I've heard many, many people refer to crows as a murder. Now, you could use the work flock, or group, sure. It just seems to me that most people don't do so, because it doesn't convey as much feeling. 

Is this just a crow or is this a solitary crow?  Words matter even if there is no scientific value to that distinction. - "as the crow flies" by Simon Clarke is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0 

Let me illustrate my point by telling you about the same morning in two different ways.  Firstly, using boring, strictly factual language and then again using poetic language Mr. Lund would disapprove of. 

Version A. 

I drove to work and I arrived about a minute late and there was this group of crows in my parking spot. I was briefly worried about hitting them while I parked, but I was also late. They scattered. Then I went inside and remembered it was my 90 day review. 

Version B. 

I drove to work this morning and arrived about a minute late. As I pulled into the parking lot there was a murder of crows waiting for me in my normal spot. I was ONLY a minute late but I was afraid to run over them, and then again, I was already late, so I hesitated briefly. I had this ominous feeling as their dark wings took to the sky and then I remembered as I looked over my shoulder at them on the way into the building that today was my 90 day review. 

Which version of my story conveys more of my internal emotional goings on? The one where I say group of crows and leave it to strict facts? There is nothing scientific about either story, but the story that contains the offensive "linguistic candy rotting cavities into our scientific integrity" is actually a much better story about my morning and how I felt about it. And despite his assertions, my poetic story has done no damage to any actual scientific integrity. 

If I called this a flurry of crows you would know what I meant, even if it's not the accepted collective noun for crows. - "as the crow flies" by Simon Clarke is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0 

Another of his points is that these terms, being that they only exist in the world of bar trivia, could easily be replaced with more interesting and scientific facts. He is right in a way. Trivia could be more interesting and scientific (such as the shape of wombat poop). However, the way that I use the terms for different animals is not in a field of trivia, it's in how I actually describe things in my world. And I would personally much rather have a poetic discussion about the things I actually see and experience in the world than a factual one about the shape of wombat fecal matter, regardless of how unusual it may be. Sorry, Mr. Lund, I think replacing venery with fecal facts is simply not the way to go. 

Then there is the point in which he mentions that "I just don’t see enough groups of other animals to need more words". Mr. Lund, I am ashamed. You don't see any other animals than cows and birds?  You seriously don't need any other words than herd and flock?  Scientist, lifelong birder, or not, if he doesn't see enough groups of other animals to need other words than flock, herd, and group, I suggest he doesn't see enough animals. Or perhaps he does and he is simply not using English in an interesting enough way. Does he call dogs in a plural form a herd or a group?  Does he refer to swarms of bees as groups?  He can continue doing as he chooses of course. But I think his language is lacking if he uses strictly and only the words, flock, herd and group for all animals that he sees or talks about.

He concedes that "certain terms of venery have made the transition from factoid to actual phrase. Pod of whales. Troop of monkeys. Gaggle of geese. Pack of wolves."  That almost makes this article worse for me.  It seems to me that Mr. Lund is saying, you can use terms that don't irritate me, but if it irritates me I will say that you are morally corrupting our scientific integrity with your choice of words.  Do tell, Mr. Lund, when does something gain enough strength in popularity for you to deem it an "actual phrase" and allow us, in your great magnanimity to use it as part of the English language?

I will now concede that I personally think some of the terms are silly.  I do not see why anyone would refer to a roiling mass of rattlesnakes as a rhumba, I think it disgraces the dance and does not adequately convey the horror of such a mass of snakes.  I might even ask someone why they thought that was a good word for it, after I'd run a sufficiently safe distance from said coil of snakes.  But I think it's more a transgression against poetry than it is against science.  I don't need to know or have ever heard anyone refer to rattlesnakes as a rhumba to know that they are referring to a plurality of snakes I don't want to be near.  That's the thing about terms of venery, they mostly denote collective nouns rather than a single rattlesnake.  And I don't have to know or agree with the term to understand what is being conveyed. 

"Caw!" by molajen is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

All of this aside, I clearly disagree with Mr. Lund, but he may do as he likes.  He is entitled to his opinions of the proper way to use English terms, however much I disagree with them. However, he continues with his article and he takes it one step too far for me. 

At the end of his article he is clearly worked up about the sort of people who try to rot our collective scientific integrity with such linguistic candy. He says that the next time someone tells him a term of venery he will respond with: 

“Did you know anyone who believes that is part of a ‘gaggle of gullibles’?" 

Telling people they are gullible for using a term you don't like is technically neither true nor nice. Mr. Lund could say they are foolish, or perhaps sentimental, but he doesn't appear to have the aptitude for understanding how to use words that he deems too whimsical. Or, for that matter, patience for anyone who is not on his wavelength of morally upstanding scientific integrity.

Don't get me wrong, I am by no means perfect.  I have my particular veiwpoints that I defend with more vehemence than necessary.  I will own that there are words I simply hate.  I am fairly certain, however, that I have never told anyone they are gullible for using a real word that I hate.  I just cringe a little and try to move on.  

People who use words and phrases you don't like are not gullible.  They would only be gullible, Mr. Lund, if they believed you when and if you responded to them with made up terms of venery, as you did at the start of your article, specifically to mock them. I'm afraid, however, that to deliberately mislead them and mock them for things that are not false, simply not to your liking, would cost you your moral high ground, your scientific integrity, and lastly, Sir, I'm afraid, that if you do that intentionally, you're just being an ass. A solitary one.

A rather solitary, moody-looking fellow.  I think he is pontificating on some point dear to his heart. - "Gangsta Crow" by www.charlesthompsonphotography.com is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

My Phlebotomist and My Living Metaphor Morning

This morning I woke up and everything was as though I was living in a metaphor come to life.

How to begin?  Let's see, I've been having a bunch of tests run.  So, this latest one involved a mobile blood draw person who came to my house.  Modern technology being what it is, my personal, mobile phlebotomist showed up this morning and promptly got lost.  He called me from nearby, unsure of how to find me.  In his defense many people get lost on the way to my house.  They see the dirt driveway and assume it can't be mine and call from the road confused.

So I woke up and got a phone call that went something like this.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is your phlebotomist"
"Hi"
"I'm trying to find you.  Are you at the construction?"
"Ah, no, I'm one driveway further up the hill.  I'm the dirt driveway right before the giant rock and the gate is open for you."

I then went out to meet him, but let me digress for a moment.  How hilarious is this idea?  Can you imagine if I was working a construction job and I called my personal mobile phlebotomist to come out to the construction site?  Because I'm now imagining that I'm a massive lumberjack looking man, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, wearing a hardhat and having my blood drawn in one arm while I jackhammer one handed with the other.  Or smoke constantly with the cigarette between my teeth while I bend rebar with one hand and my phlebotomist ties a little elastic cord around my other beefy arm.  I think it's a hilarious mental image.

I can just imagine these guys having their blood drawn while working, can't you? - "F-327-CVFriant Dam Construction" by Bureau of Reclamation is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 

Ok, now back to what actually happened this morning.

So he sets up and it seems that phlebotomists, not unlike dentists, tend to fill the silence with a bit of chatter.  The distinct upside being that you can actually talk and reply in this scenario.  He asked about my job, I said I was working in a museum.  He asked what I do.  I said I was a glorified secretary but I was staying in the history field since I was a history major.  And he began talking about how much he loves his job and how much that makes a difference.  Do what you love he says, and it won't matter how little the money is.  And then I look at my arm, in this living metaphor, feeling very much like he's implying that NOT doing what you love is to have the life literally drained out of you.

And then he started talking about how you just have to be open to opportunities.  That sometimes things are just first steps and you never know what will come from it.  That it's important for me to work in a museum and be open to the possibilities that can flow from there.  Again I look at my arm as he continues to fill vials.  Once a door is open, things flow through.  Maybe it was just the blood loss, but it all felt very surreal and dream-like.

"Don't quit your day dream" by Lindsay_Silveira is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0 

Then we were all done.  He pet my dogs and said you could tell they were happy.  He said when he was little he wanted to be a dog and his dad told him, "you don't want to be a dog, you want to live life like a dog".  And with that last bit of wisdom, my phlebotomist departed.

So, there I was contemplating my mobile phlebotomist wisdom of the day.  Such a nice man.  And I ate breakfast and felt tired and I decided, no offense to my phlebotomist, who was amazing, that the world is full of bloodsuckers (metaphorical you know) and with that I went back to bed for an hour before work.

Let's be Old Fashioned Anglo-Saxons...

and write poetry.

That is, I was thinking there should be more poetry done in the Anglo-Saxon style using kenning.  Recently, I was thinking about how much fun it is to describe things in lengthy poetic phrases.  My favorite from reading Anglo-Saxon poetry, oh so many years ago, was the way they described the sea as the whale's road.

So, naturally, when this sprang to mind recently I decided I should write my own poem using kenning. Oh right, I haven't defined it yet and you may not wish to look it up just now, being as eager as you are, I am sure, to read my poem.  So, I'll just define it for you.  Kenning is when you use a poetic phrase to describe a word instead of just using that word.  Rather than saying you rowed a boat across the sea you would say that you rowed a boat across the whale's road.  A kenning for dragon would be fire-breather.  It's not a difficult poetic concept, nothing like conforming to a strict meter.  However, I think it's a lovely literary device.

Right, so now that we've defined kenning, I won't keep you in suspense any longer.  I know you are all dying to hear a little Anglo-Saxon styled poetry.  What would your day be without it?  Bleak.  I know.  Don't worry, I understand your concern about the dearth of kenning in modern society.  So, without further ado, here is the word pile of the day:

I make myself comfortable in the ocean's sand-box;
As the birds' highway lifts my hair in playful delight.
I build a tan grainy castle for the rolling water to devour;
While my toes find freedom from their leather plight,
My fingers find purpose in their tiny ground-pebble creations;
And my face grows warm with smiles in the day's ending light.

Why aren't Mouse Cages More Interesting?

My Uncle has just started a business raising fancy mice as pets.  He breeds them to be docile and in all sorts of colors and varieties.  And so I was contemplating his selection of mice and remembering the hamsters we used to keep in childhood.  This started me down a whole weird path about what I did and didn't like about keeping hamsters as a kid.

It occurred to me that I don't actually mind mice or hamsters, but I really mind their cages.  Our hamster cage was a gaudy pile of interconnected and strangely shaped plastics in a variety of uncomplimentary colours.  So, it occurred to me that what I don't like is how very bold and ugly the cages are while at the same time remaining in largely boring shapes.  As an historian I've bemoaned the fact that we no longer make beautiful Victorian bird cages, but I've never heard of fancy looking cages for pet mice.  Well, I've never heard of or seen fancy cages for any animal these days.

And why is that?  They are made of plastic.  You could just as quickly mold them into any shape you wanted, complicated shapes being just as fast as boring shapes in the modern world of molds and factory production.  So, why don't we make them more interesting looking?  It's not like you can shove a giant cage away in an attic and not look at it.  So, why are we content with them looking the way they do?

I suppose all of this comes back to my longing for the world to be more beautiful, more interesting and more strange than it currently is.  I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way about large cages.  Even for fish tanks there are little columns and shipwreck things you can put at the bottom to make it look more interesting and piratey.  Why can't we do the same for mice?

I want my world to be filled with beautiful architectural shapes.  If I were designing a mouse cage I'd make it into a Greek temple, or a Moorish Palace.  I remember that cleaning out corners was particularly unpleasant, maybe I'd make a Roman Colosseum for my mice to live in.  Then I could name them all suitably impressive names and watch them manically run around in their wheels and pretend they were training for the gladiatorial Games.

Maximus would train ceaselessly while Claudius napped after a hard fight in the arena.  Arena just means sand in Latin by the way, not that sand is in any way recommended for mouse cages.  I simply got excited about the Latin.  Truly though, how can you get a fancy pet mouse and stick him in a boring square cage?  I think it would be much more fun to name your rex pet mouse Maximus and house him in something you don't hate looking at.  If I couldn't find a cool mouse cage I'd probably build him a Colosseum.  But then, I'm mad.  We all know this.

Anyway, if you happen to be looking for fancy pet mice and live anywhere near Rhode Island you should look no further.  And if you happen to find a cage that's actually interesting looking, do let me know.