Great introduction, than you! I'm already looking forward to the next article in the series.
I'm currently studying dreams in Chrétien de Troyes' five novels and other attributed works: the dream («songe») always originates from intense thinking («panser») and not from sleep or loss of consciousness. You might call it daydreaming, if you like; either way, the association dream-thought, somewhat alien to us or at least secondary, might be telling of the ancient approach to symbols as well.
One cannot possibly get tired of considering the implications of the etymology (gr. symballein, to join together) and of appreciating C.G. Jung's definition, «Every psychological expression is a symbol if we assume that it states or signifies something more and other than itself which eludes our present knowledge».
Wonderful contributions, thank you. I really like Plato's perspective, as expressed by Northrop Frye: "art is a dream for awakened minds." I'm sure you're also aware of the prominence of "dream-vision" literature in medieval culture. Dreams were intuitively understood as poetically fecund.
Thank you for the beautiful quote! In his first signed and surviving novel, Chrétien refers to Macrobius' commentary to Cicero's "Somnium Scipionis" – definitely a flourishing tradition.
I was amused by your description of being taught literature in school. That was my own experience in a convent boarding school in the UK in the early 1960s. We studied Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse for our final A level paper; you can imagine what a field day symbolism had in that novel.
Isn't the word 'Merry' derived from 'Mary' ie the Mother of God? Mary brings joy. She was rudely dispossessed of her 'dowry', England, by the Reformation, and her dethronement has resulted in all our current postmodern woes, both in art and in life.
Hah, yes, there's no shortage of symbolism in To the Lighthouse, but whether students can make any sense of it all is another question.
Technically "merry" comes via Old English "myrige" from ancient Germanic speech, but St. Isidore of Seville was not opposed to "creative" etymologies, and I see nothing wrong with discerning the mysterious working of divine Providence in the fact that English speakers have such a lovely, joyful word that sounds identical to the name of the loveliest, most joyful woman who ever lived.
I’m looking forward to the exploration.
Great essay! The bit about Great Gatsby is spot on lol
Great introduction, than you! I'm already looking forward to the next article in the series.
I'm currently studying dreams in Chrétien de Troyes' five novels and other attributed works: the dream («songe») always originates from intense thinking («panser») and not from sleep or loss of consciousness. You might call it daydreaming, if you like; either way, the association dream-thought, somewhat alien to us or at least secondary, might be telling of the ancient approach to symbols as well.
One cannot possibly get tired of considering the implications of the etymology (gr. symballein, to join together) and of appreciating C.G. Jung's definition, «Every psychological expression is a symbol if we assume that it states or signifies something more and other than itself which eludes our present knowledge».
Wonderful contributions, thank you. I really like Plato's perspective, as expressed by Northrop Frye: "art is a dream for awakened minds." I'm sure you're also aware of the prominence of "dream-vision" literature in medieval culture. Dreams were intuitively understood as poetically fecund.
Thank you for the beautiful quote! In his first signed and surviving novel, Chrétien refers to Macrobius' commentary to Cicero's "Somnium Scipionis" – definitely a flourishing tradition.
I was amused by your description of being taught literature in school. That was my own experience in a convent boarding school in the UK in the early 1960s. We studied Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse for our final A level paper; you can imagine what a field day symbolism had in that novel.
Isn't the word 'Merry' derived from 'Mary' ie the Mother of God? Mary brings joy. She was rudely dispossessed of her 'dowry', England, by the Reformation, and her dethronement has resulted in all our current postmodern woes, both in art and in life.
Hah, yes, there's no shortage of symbolism in To the Lighthouse, but whether students can make any sense of it all is another question.
Technically "merry" comes via Old English "myrige" from ancient Germanic speech, but St. Isidore of Seville was not opposed to "creative" etymologies, and I see nothing wrong with discerning the mysterious working of divine Providence in the fact that English speakers have such a lovely, joyful word that sounds identical to the name of the loveliest, most joyful woman who ever lived.