Saint Valentine's Day: Love in a Leap Year

Valentine was purportedly a priest who lived in Rome around 270AD. The Emperor Claudius II issued a decree forbidding military recruits to marry, in the belief that single men make better soldiers. As a Christian, Valentine believed marriage was a holy sacrament and continued to perform weddings in secret. He was brought before Claudius, who was impressed with his rhetoric and tried to convert him to paganism; but Valentine refused, and was sentenced to death. Whilst in prison, he miraculously healed his jailer’s blind daughter. The night before his execution, he sent her a note signed ‘From your Valentine’. So the first Valentine’s card was from a priest and a convict. Not an auspicious start for a festival of love....

The Feast of Saint Valentine was established by Pope Gelasius in 469AD on February 14^th. Because his story is rather unreliable, the festival was deleted from the  Calendar of Saints in 1969. But Amor vincit omnia - Love conquers all - and the celebration has taken firm root in popular imagination.

The day first became associated with romantic love in the Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love flourished. In 1382, Geoffrey Chaucer composed a poem commemorating the betrothal of King Richard II to Anne of Bohemia (they were both only fourteen years old).  He wrote,

For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.

(‘For this was on Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate.’)

By the 15th century, Valentine’s Day had evolved into an occasion in which lovers expressed their affection by presenting flowers, sweetmeats and greeting cards (known as ‘valentines’). In 1797, a British publisher issued The Young Man's Valentine Writer, which contained scores of sentimental verses for the young lover unable to compose his own. By the early nineteenth century printers were producing cards with poems and pictures, decorated with ribbons and paper lace. The introduction of the ‘Penny Post’ in 1840 made it feasible to post Valentines. That, in turn, made it easy to exchange cards anonymously – which accounts for the sudden appearance of rather racy rhymes in the otherwise prudish Victorian era!

Valentine's Day is now big business in the greetings card industry. This is one area where the Internet has not made substantial inroads: you can’t make an anonymous Facebook declaration of affection. Modern symbols of love include hearts, doves, and the winged figure of Cupid firing his arrows. But a card will hardly suffice for the serious suitor. Chocolates, flowers and theatre tickets are least the modern miss will expect. And if a man fails to measure up, he only has two weeks to prove his worth....

For February 29^th is traditionally the day on which a single girl might propose to her partner. The day occurs only once every four years, because the earth actually goes around the sun in 365 ¼ days. (There’s still a discrepancy of 0.000125 days so in 4,000AD our calendar will be one day out. But lovers don’t worry about such things). February 29^th is an anomaly: according to olde English law, it had no legal status. Folks assumed that social mores were similarly suspended on that day.

The proposal custom is said to have started in 5^th century Ireland, when St. Brigid complained to St. Patrick about women having to wait for a man to make his move. St. Patrick was a man ahead of his time: he replied that women could take matters into their own hands on this one day in February. (Very prescient, seeing that Pope Gregory didn’t introduce his new-fangled calendar until 1582). Tradition states that any man who declines a leap year proposal must pay a fine, ranging from a kiss to a pair of silk gloves.

These days, women might prefer to choose their own gloves: at the very least, a man should get a gift receipt. But Valentine’s Day in many countries is as much about friendship as erotic love. It’s a chance to tell the people who matter – whether it’s your girlfriends or your grandchildren – how much they mean to you. And if you’re feeling cynical about the whole amorous affair, here’s a modern-day version of The Valentine Writer!

“Love me little, love me long.” (English Folksong)

“Love and hate are necessary to human existence.” (William Blake)

“Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but of looking together in the same direction.”

(Antoine de Saint-Expury)

See full version of this post with pictures at http://janebaileybain.wordpress.com/2012/02/14/stvalentine/ 
More about relationship patterns and life themes in ‘LifeWorks’ by Jane Bailey Bain. For more information, see my Author page http://www.facebook.com/LifeWorks1 and visit the main ‘LifeWorks’ website on http://janebaileybain.wordpress.com/

Saint Brigid's Fire

Brigid was a slip of a girl with a mass of red-gold curls. It drove the nuns wild, that hair, for however much they combed it sprang back into a cloud. The girl ran wild too, although she had such a sweet nature none could not be cross with her for long. Not that she was often around to be told off. Brigid loved to be outside: she would slip out of the convent and dance barefoot through the long grass in a manner not becoming to a novice nun. She was a problem, that was for sure: daughter of a serving maid by her master, only their Christian charity had given her a home. The lord Dubhthach was said to be a wizard, one of the old faith who knew more than was right of mystery and magic. At least her mother had been baptised by the good Saint Patrick himself.

In the end, the wise old abbess let the girl have her way. Brigid was put in charge of the convent flock, and spent long happy days playing in the pastures. Under her care, the sheep gave thrice as much milk as they had before. The nuns were not the only ones to benefit. Brigid was a kind-hearted child, always willing to help those in need. She would let any thirsty passer-by drink his fill, but miraculously the milk-pails were always full at the end of the day. The nuns saw the good-will this earned them in the village, and sensibly held their peace.

As she grew older, Brigid remained just as kind but she became cannier. One day the lord of Leicester was visiting, and she asked for alms to feed the poor. When he refused, she begged him for a patch of land – “Just as much as I can cover with my cloak”. Now that cloak was woven of fine Irish linen but with a weft as loose as a baby’s bowels. Four of the sisters took hold of the hem and began to stretch it out like a fishing net. He laughed as they backed away and promised to give enough land to keep them in food for a year. Another time, thieves stole cattle from a local farmer: the river rose up to block their escape, and as they swam across their clothes were washed away. The men returned dripping naked to beg for forgiveness. Brigid brewed ale for the poor too – rumour said she changed her own bathwater into beer: and her example inspired the local innkeepers so that none ever went without in that part of the land.

She learnt what she could of namesake, too. Brighid  – ‘Bright One’ – was a Celtic deity, daughter of the great Dagda and a reknowned poetess. She was born at sunrise as her mother walked over a threshold, so that she belonged ‘both within and without’. Brighid was said to have two sisters, one of them a physician and the other a craft-smith: but more likely they were all one person, a triune goddess of creativity and healing and sacred fire. She presided over the festival of Imbolg (In belly) or Oimelc (Ewe’s milk), when the sheep drop their lambs. This was celebrated on the ‘quarter day’ midway between the Yule solstice and the Eostre spring equinox, and was a time especially sacred to women.    

When she grew up, our Brigid became Abbess of Kildare herself. She was known for both her wisdom and compassion. She kept the old ways in Christian fashion: she was said to have power over both fire and water, and many stories are told of her healing miracles. Where the hem of her robe touched the ground, snowdrops and crocuses sprang up. To honour the hearth fire that women tend in every home, she kept a flame tended by nine maidens burning in a sanctuary that no man was permitted to enter.  Brigid was eventually consecrated as a bishop, which was unusual in her day too. When she died, she was made a saint – the patroness of poets, blacksmiths and healers. She is often portrayed with a cow at her feet, holding a crozier (bishop’s crook) and a lamp. The Feast of St Brigid is held on 1^st February, the day before Candlemass. It is a festival of song and light and purification. And if Gaelic Brighid is honoured too at this time, there is no conflict in those celebrations.

See full version of this post with pictures at http://janebaileybain.wordpress.com/2012/02/01/saint-brigids-fire/ 

‘LifeWorks’ by Jane Bailey Bain is a practical handbook which contains insights from psychology and anthropology. Using myths from around the world, it helps you to develop your own life story. These tools can also be used by novelists and scriptwriters. For more information, see my Author page http://www.facebook.com/LifeWorks1 and visit the main ‘LifeWorks’ website on http://janebaileybain.wordpress.com/

The Story of Writing: From Stone Age to Kindle

In the beginning was the Word...

And it was Good. Mmm. Nice.

Followed soon after by Ugh! That’s yuk!

At first, these were the only words people had.

Then someone combined them to make a suggestion.

Umm? How about it? You and me, babe...??

And that was when things began to happen.

For a long time, no-one bothered to write words down. Eventually the Ancient Sumerians started to scratch marks on clay tablets. This was just to keep track of their trade transactions: how many sacks of grain for how many camels? Then some bright spark thought of putting pictures on the tablets too: it was worth getting your sacks and camels the right way round. They were pretty basic markings, made with a reed stick. If you look at a Sumerian tablet, it looks as though a bird had walked over the wet clay. But this was the first time that words had been written down.

So, strictly speaking, accountancy is the father of literature.

The earliest cuneiform (‘wedge-writing’) tablets date from around 5,500 years ago. Early scribes had to memorize hundreds of signs used to represent common words. At last someone had another good idea, and developed a system of phonograms. This meant you could spell out strange words, like foreign names, from their sounds. Our modern alphabet is based on a system of twenty-two letters used around 1200BC in the Phoenician city of Gebal. It became known to the Greeks as Byblos, the Place of the Book.

Early books were written on papyrus or vellum. The invention of paper came much later, and even then, books had to be laboriously copied out by hand. This was thought to safeguard the transmission of knowledge. When William Caxton set up his printing press in 1472, he was accused of corrupting the public by distributing bawdy ballads.

After this protracted start, the printing process began to speed up. In 1525, William Tyndale’s English New Testament was published. The Church tried to suppress it, but to no avail. Across Europe, knowledge was no longer the preserve of the educated few. Classical works in Latin were replaced by writing in local languages. By the nineteenth century, steam-powered rotary presses made production possible on an industrial scale. Scientists could share their discoveries through academic journals. Reading became a popular pastime for the emerging middle classes. In 1935, Allen Lane was stranded without a good book in his pocket, and Penguin paperbacks were born. By the late twentieth century, personal computers provided printing technology in private homes.

Nowadays, if you are a writer, you have a huge range of options to get your work into print. From gilded behemoths like Oxford University Press to innovative independent publishers like John Hunt; from ponderous leather-bound tomes to Kindle and e-books. The publishing world is changing at lightning speed: the internet means that the smallest minority interests can find their target audience.

But there is no substitute for a real book: slightly dog-eared, the pages turned down at the corners, scribbled comments in the margins. A date and place on the fly-leaf, to remind you where you were. The smell of paper, the weight of it balanced in your hands.

And that’s the story of writing. ‘LifeWorks’ is launched today. Thursday 12^th January 2012. Celebrations!!!

See the full version of this post with pictures at http://janebaileybain.wordpress.com/2012/01/12/the-story-of-writing/
 

‘LifeWorks’ by Jane Bailey Bain is a practical handbook which contains insights from psychology and anthropology. Using myths from around the world, it helps you to develop your own life story. These tools can also be used by novelists and scriptwriters. For more information, see my Author page http://www.facebook.com/LifeWorks1 and visit the main ‘LifeWorks’ website at http://janebaileybain.wordpress.com/books/

 

New Year's Resolutions

What are your New Year's resolutions? Not the ambitious ones you announce, slightly tipsy, when someone asks you at a party on the big night; nor the virtuous ones you make, feeling slightly wistful, when the next day dawns and finds life much the same  as it was before. So many people focus on their shortcomings: things they want to remedy about themselves. But as any trainer knows, criticism alone is a poor motivator. Surely it's better to focus on doing something positive: a new skill (learning a language), a dream (becoming an artist) or a long-held ambition (running a marathon). Things on your bucket list, that you want to do before you finally kick it. That way, we find fresh energies and start to change our selves. Instead of being merely remedial, our resolutions become another step on our life path. And this just could be the month to make it happen.

January is the month of Janus, the Roman god who presides over the turning year. Portrayed with two faces, he looks to both the past and the future. He is the guardian of gateways (modern keyholders are called janitors), and his image was often carved over doors. Doorways imply the entrance to a new domain: they are associated with birth, death and initiation. On a practical level, they are important for marking boundaries. A ‘front door’ separates our private lives from the public domain. Within the house, doors demarcate areas of personal space from rooms for general use. We use doorways to categorize our thoughts: sometimes you forget why you came upstairs until you go back to the hallway. Cicero coined the term ‘memory palace’ in 55BC for the technique of memorising a list of items by visualizing them in a series of rooms. Passing through doorways, whether physical or imaginary, helps us to organize information 
in our minds.

The resolutions that matter are the groundswell ones that creep into your conscious from below, that you find lounging in your mind like intruders because you had no idea you felt that way. Once formed, they seem inevitable and undeniable, a natural extension of your self.  Suddenly it’s obvious what you should do next. You can see it all clearly in your mind now. Everything we do, from making a drink to founding an empire, starts as a picture in our image-ination. This is the right direction: you just need to take the first step. And you know it is a good decision because once you've made it, life feels back on track.

See full version of this post with pictures at http://janebaileybain.wordpress.com/2012/01/01/new-years-resolutions/

‘LifeWorks’ by Jane Bailey Bain is a practical handbook which contains insights from psychology and anthropology. Using myths from around the world, it helps you to develop your own life story. These tools can also be used by novelists and scriptwriters. For more information, see my Author page http://www.facebook.com/LifeWorks1 and visit the main ‘LifeWorks’ website at http://janebaileybain.wordpress.com/books/