Sceaft! What a beautiful word. I love that it's translation- creation- is inherently animate. I love the exploration of words and their etymologies too. I have ordered Mother Tongue as a result of your inspiration- thank you so much.
So wonderful! Love this piece. I hadn't heard about the word "sceaft" before... This intersects so beautifully with other things I'm reading. Thank you!
Good morning Freya, I found your essay and included photos to be far ranging, erudite, fascinating, and brilliant. The term “sceaft” strikes a strong chord with my use of Great Spirit to help express and honor the complexity and connections here on Earth. I’m always grateful for what you express that serves to keep me right sized.
Thank you so much Gary, it means so much to hear that what I write held meaning for you. And I love thinking of sceaft as akin to the idea of the Great Spirit. 💜
I think having the leg of this little creature, so beautiful its fur, is to remember and honor its life in human consciousness. It lives on. Its hare consciousness was first, the memories of jumping about are now transferred to your life journey. A hare’s legs are maybe its greatest feature, inspiring the hippity hop that we share especially when enjoying black urban music. I recently wrote that music makes us want to fly, and since we can’t do that, we dance. Our little friend was right there in that space between hopping and flying, maybe a bit closer to flying than we achieve. So I think you should take your friend with you when dancing; maybe in that mode your two consciousnesses will commune.
So beautiful Jeffrey--I will take that framing with full joy and gratitude for the unexpected find, of the space between hopping and flying, we can dance. Thank you so much for reading, and for sharing such an enchanting way to think of what we take with us from our finds in the wilds--to have it become a part of our consciousness, in kind. 💜
What an absolute joy to read and see! Beautifully written on so many levels.
My second degree was in linguistics and even though I had to abandon my MA in comparative Indo-European linguistics for health reasons and concentrate on archaeology only, seeing someone deal with IE etymologies will always make my heart beat a little faster. (I tried to compensate for my loss a bit by writing a thesis on IE archaeology, ha!)
Just yesterday I was questioning myself why do I fill every windowsill in the house with beachcombed offerings. Why can't I just "organise" it and hoard it all in my studio? At first glance it seems like sloppiness, but I'd say my mind doesn't want to sort them out. It wants to keep small bits of nature and heritage everywhere to break the sterile nature of our contemporary dwellings and remind me of our place within sceaft.
Thanks so much Ramona. I absolutely love etymology and as a fellow archaeology grad student too, I was so disappointed that philology is no loner the accepted way to pursue language studies--bring philology back please! :) It is such a thrill to find the deeper meaning and connection in the words we use, opening up such rich history. And yes I am with you--here's to the beauty of haphazard collections and refuting the sterility of an indoor life that doesn't reflect that it too is a part of the wild, all sceaft. 💜
What a beautiful landscape, and a wonderful, meandering story with so much history & language. Thank you for this offering and may you find lots of luck with your little talisman. 🩵
Your postings are so consistently outstanding, thank you. I live in Michigan and love reading about Alaska, and with lifetime interests in poetry, writing in general, language (esp Old English! I took a seminar in this that was life changing 25-ish years ago) and witchy/esoteric women, so much of what you write consistently resonates.
Thank you so much Marla--it means so much to me to hear that. I love that you were able to take a life-changing Old English seminar--what joy to find others who are also entranced by language and the history behind the words we use. 💜
This was fascinating, Freya. I loved the paragraph listing all the things we have learned from nature. Did sceaft become scape, as in landscape? And perhaps share a root with schaft in German?
Thanks John--I love to think of what we take for granted in daily life as all part of what we learned from our other fellow inhabitants of sceaft. 💜 and so happy Ramona could explain the deeper ties to the roots for landscape, it's all so fascinating.
Good thinking, but it wasn't the case. Landscape comes from Old English landsċipe/landsċeap, which is the suffix that gives us both -scape and -ship in modern English (e.g. fellowship, ownership). So, landscape is essentially landship. German -schaft is indeed a cognate (as in Landschaft)! Both ultimately stem from Proto-Germanic *-skapiz.
Sceaft! What a beautiful word. I love that it's translation- creation- is inherently animate. I love the exploration of words and their etymologies too. I have ordered Mother Tongue as a result of your inspiration- thank you so much.
So wonderful! Love this piece. I hadn't heard about the word "sceaft" before... This intersects so beautifully with other things I'm reading. Thank you!
💜🙏
Good morning Freya, I found your essay and included photos to be far ranging, erudite, fascinating, and brilliant. The term “sceaft” strikes a strong chord with my use of Great Spirit to help express and honor the complexity and connections here on Earth. I’m always grateful for what you express that serves to keep me right sized.
Thank you so much Gary, it means so much to hear that what I write held meaning for you. And I love thinking of sceaft as akin to the idea of the Great Spirit. 💜
Such a beautiful essay. Thank you so much, Freya! The ending paragraph made me tear up.
Ah, that is so kind--thanks so much for reading Autumn. 💜
I think having the leg of this little creature, so beautiful its fur, is to remember and honor its life in human consciousness. It lives on. Its hare consciousness was first, the memories of jumping about are now transferred to your life journey. A hare’s legs are maybe its greatest feature, inspiring the hippity hop that we share especially when enjoying black urban music. I recently wrote that music makes us want to fly, and since we can’t do that, we dance. Our little friend was right there in that space between hopping and flying, maybe a bit closer to flying than we achieve. So I think you should take your friend with you when dancing; maybe in that mode your two consciousnesses will commune.
So beautiful Jeffrey--I will take that framing with full joy and gratitude for the unexpected find, of the space between hopping and flying, we can dance. Thank you so much for reading, and for sharing such an enchanting way to think of what we take with us from our finds in the wilds--to have it become a part of our consciousness, in kind. 💜
What an absolute joy to read and see! Beautifully written on so many levels.
My second degree was in linguistics and even though I had to abandon my MA in comparative Indo-European linguistics for health reasons and concentrate on archaeology only, seeing someone deal with IE etymologies will always make my heart beat a little faster. (I tried to compensate for my loss a bit by writing a thesis on IE archaeology, ha!)
Just yesterday I was questioning myself why do I fill every windowsill in the house with beachcombed offerings. Why can't I just "organise" it and hoard it all in my studio? At first glance it seems like sloppiness, but I'd say my mind doesn't want to sort them out. It wants to keep small bits of nature and heritage everywhere to break the sterile nature of our contemporary dwellings and remind me of our place within sceaft.
Thanks so much Ramona. I absolutely love etymology and as a fellow archaeology grad student too, I was so disappointed that philology is no loner the accepted way to pursue language studies--bring philology back please! :) It is such a thrill to find the deeper meaning and connection in the words we use, opening up such rich history. And yes I am with you--here's to the beauty of haphazard collections and refuting the sterility of an indoor life that doesn't reflect that it too is a part of the wild, all sceaft. 💜
What a beautiful landscape, and a wonderful, meandering story with so much history & language. Thank you for this offering and may you find lots of luck with your little talisman. 🩵
Thank you so much Lindsay. 💜🐇
Your postings are so consistently outstanding, thank you. I live in Michigan and love reading about Alaska, and with lifetime interests in poetry, writing in general, language (esp Old English! I took a seminar in this that was life changing 25-ish years ago) and witchy/esoteric women, so much of what you write consistently resonates.
Thank you so much Marla--it means so much to me to hear that. I love that you were able to take a life-changing Old English seminar--what joy to find others who are also entranced by language and the history behind the words we use. 💜
I loved this. Such a beautiful look at our being through etymology.
Thanks so much Keyon. 💜
This was fascinating, Freya. I loved the paragraph listing all the things we have learned from nature. Did sceaft become scape, as in landscape? And perhaps share a root with schaft in German?
Thanks John--I love to think of what we take for granted in daily life as all part of what we learned from our other fellow inhabitants of sceaft. 💜 and so happy Ramona could explain the deeper ties to the roots for landscape, it's all so fascinating.
🙏
Good thinking, but it wasn't the case. Landscape comes from Old English landsċipe/landsċeap, which is the suffix that gives us both -scape and -ship in modern English (e.g. fellowship, ownership). So, landscape is essentially landship. German -schaft is indeed a cognate (as in Landschaft)! Both ultimately stem from Proto-Germanic *-skapiz.
Landship! I'm going to enjoy that one.
so interesting--thanks so much Ramona, that opens up in an equally interesting direction!
Ah, thank you!