Here in Massachusetts the leaves are starting to turn amazing colors… Our second spring, my favorite season.

Tree is from Proto Indo European deru or doru, which meant “oak tree”. The oak tree was so central and sacred to the ancient Indo Europeans that in many of the daughter languages, including English, the word for “oak” was simply extended to mean all trees everywhere. It’s also the root of true, truce, betroth, truth, trust, dryad, rhododendron, and of course druid. The oak tree itself may have been too holy to have its name spoken; in any case, its name oak has an unknown origin — see oak.

Meanwhile, deru/doru became trewan in Proto Indo European, and treo in Old English; it was simplified to tree in Modern English.

The word tree seems to be concerned with growth and endurance: powerful energy moving along a path, with stamina and determination.

Thanks to Nio for suggesting this word of the day!

The Greek god of medicine and healing, light, truth, archery, colonists, prophecy, herds and flocks, music, poetry, and the sun. The origin of his name is uncertain, though there are many possibilities — apollumi, “the destroyer”; apolusis, “redeem”; apolousis, “purification”; aploun, “simple” or “unity”; aei-ballon “ever-shooting”; and apella “assembly”. The name may also be from the ancient Hittite diety Aplu, a god of healing, who may in turn have come from the Akkadian sun god Aplu Enlil, whose name meant literally “son of Enlil”, Enlil being one of the chief Sumerian gods. If this is the case, Apollo’s worship goes back to the dawn of Middle Eastern civilization.

Apollo’s name indicates Source energy that expands from a point to fill volume, like light; the result is a grounded, wholesome power.

Thanks to Mahud for the beautiful illustration!

Week comes from Proto Indo European weik, “to bend, to turn”, also the ancestor of wicket, wicker, weak, and vicarious. The idea apparently was that a week was a “turn” of the calendar. The word became wikon in Proto Germanic and wice in Old English; and it was in Old English times, under influence from the Romans, that wice was first used to mean “week”. It is not known whether the ancient Germanic tribes had any unit of time corresponding to a “week”, though the undoubtedly had months (based on the moon) and years (based on the sun). A Norse calendar from about 800 AD has been discovered with five-day weeks called fimmts, with six fimmts in each of twelve months, plus five ceremonial days not part of any month; but the fact that there are twelve months (rather than thirteen) shows probable Roman influence.

The Roman week — with seven days, each named after a Roman deity — began around the same time as the rise of the Imperium of Rome, and seems to have been adopted from the Egyptian seven-day week. Around the same time, Christianity was beginning to spread, and it had a built-in seven-day week as well; but even when the Roman Empire became officially Christian, the weekday names were never divorced from the heathen gods. The seven-day week was in use in Egypt and throughout the Middle East and India for thousands of years before the Romans arrived; apparently it was based on one fourth of the 28-day lunar cycle.

When the Anglo-Saxons adopted the Roman week, they tried to map the Roman deities on to their own. Unfortunately, the two pantheons had quite different structures, so the mapping is rather strained in places. For example, the Roman dies Martis, “Marsday”, was “translated” into Tiwesdæg, “Tiw’s Day”, even though Tiw wasn’t really a war god, but a god of sacrifice, honor, and swordsmanship. The real god of war, Woden (Odin), however, was also the ruler of messengers and divine inspiration; so he was matched up with Mercury for Wednesday.

The modern word week indicates a period of challenges, endurance, and the will to overcome them. It might be best considered a self-contained cycle of worldly effort.

From Latin honorem, “honor, dignity, reputation”. No one knows where honorem comes from. The adjectival form was honestus, which became honeste in Old French, and honest in English around 1300.

Honest is one of the few words in the standard North American English dialect group that is spelled with an initial silent “h” (others are honor, herb and heir). Dropping initial “h” is common in most modern dialects of English, but there are a few dialects — like American English — that hold on to it for most words. (However, standard American English does pronounce the final “r” in honor, while most other English dialects do not — leaving honor to be pronounced “ON-ah”.)

Energetically, honest begins with Source energy that is directed, narrowed toward a target of communication, with an aspect of directed, purposeful energy. This seems like a marvelous fit: the Source energy is the Truth, which, in the honest person, is the goal of communication.

Thanks to Nio for suggesting this word of the day!

This is the second in a series of examinations of the current crop of US presidential candidates; the previous entry looked at Hillary Clinton. I’m analyzing these names the same way I would analyze anyone’s: a combination of name history and sound/meaning analysis to give an overview of the person’s life trajectory.

Rudy’s full name is Rudolf William Louis Giuliani. It appears to be the case that a person’s first, or most commonly used name, is the one that indicates life trajectory in the social or community sphere; while their middle name(s) indicate personal spiritual guidance and growth, and the last name places them in the context of their ancestry.

Rudolf means “wolf-fame”, i.e. “one with a wolf-like reputation”, and comes ultimately from Proto Germanic Hrodwulf. German mercenaries and other migrants into the Roman Empire brought the name into Latin, where it became Rudolfus. The name is still a popular one in Italy — and of course in the Italian community of Brooklyn, where Giuliani was born. The spiritual energy of the wolf is ultimately free expression of the will; and in the name Rudolf, a tremendous burst of fast, flowing energy passes through a time of decision, and results in expansive freedom. As for the nickname, Rudy, the beginning burst and decision are the same, but the results are stamina and endurance.

Giuliani’s first middle name, William, is also Germanic, from Wilhelm, meaning “will-helmet”, i.e. “headstrong”, “willful”. It’s one of the most successful names in European history, being popular in various versions in various languages across the continent, from Irish Liam to Hungarian Vilmos. Like Rudolf, William indicates a strong will that expands forcefully, leading in this case to manifestation; compare similar whim and womb.

Giuliani’s second middle name, Louis, is also remarkably similar to Rudolf in its meaning, and also its history; so it is as though his first three names are aspects of a single theme. Louis is the French form of the ancient Germanic name Hludwig, which is (you guessed it) cognate with the German name Ludwig (as in Beethoven). Sixteen French kings bore the name, not counting the very early ones named Clovis, which is a Latinized variant of Louis. Phonosemantically Louis, pronounced loo-wee, is also associated with the speedy, flowing expansion of free will, especially under conditions of stamina and hardship.

Finally, Giuliani is one of the modern Italian derivatives of the ancient Latin name Julius, which was of course popularized by Julius Caesar two thousand years ago. As far as I know, no “meaning” for Julius has ever been discovered; but energetically it indicates a fast, flowing energy that emerges from decision and expands to fill space. Despite its different spelling, Giuliani has the same energy; but its closing syllables indicate a result of narrowing the energy towards a long-term goal.

Thus the overall trajectory of Rudy Giuliani’s name is one which begins with will, proceeds through a time of decision and stamina, resulting in some kind of transformation – variously into manifestation, targeting towards new goals, or freedom. It’s interesting that Giuliani’s life has indeed gone through at least two of stages — the time of will, when he was exercising his “tough love” version of government on New York City; and a point of decision, in which his role was changed and transformed by the 9/11 attack. The next stage for Giuliani’s social sphere, indicated by the final syllable of Rudolf, is expansion and freedom; but for his own personal growth, indicated by his name William, the next stage involves creative manifestation. It will be interesting to see how his presidential ambitions play into these life trajectories.

The Druid Journal Word of the Day is now over four months old, and we’ve had precious few words of genuinely unknown origin. This fact is a tribute to the last two hundred years of scholarship by historical linguists and philologists, professional and amateur.

But of course there are some tough words out there. Luck is one of those nuts that just won’t get cracked.

It first appeared around 1500 as lucke, borrowed from Dutch luc, meaning “happiness, good fortune”. This in turn was a clipping of gheluc, frequently used in gambling. It appears to be related to German Glück, “fortune, happiness”. But where did gheluc come from? No one has any idea at all!

Quite apart from that, the meaning of luck is a complex and difficult thing. Luck, after all, is not always necessarily good — there is such a thing as bad luck! Luck seems to mean something like “happenstance beyond one’s control”; but depending on your personal beliefs about the forces that control the universe — hard laws of statistics, complete God-controlled predestination, or something else entirely — luck can be very different things. Remarkably, however, the modern concept of luck appears to be very similar to the ancient Anglo-Saxon idea of wyrd, which literally may be translated “that which comes around, that which comes to pass”, but is quite nuanced. The Wikipedia article on wyrd is fascinating:

In a simple sense, Wyrd refers to how past actions continually affect and condition the future, but also how the future affects the past. Indeed, for a true comprehension it is key for the Wyrd to be embraced as a conceptual mystery, wherein the tides and tidings of time and timelessness flow and weave always, entwining the reticulum of the fabric of being and non-being. The Wyrd also foregrounds the interconnected nature of all actions and how they influence each other. Wyrd, though conceptually related, is not congruent with predestination. Unlike predestination, the concept of Wyrd allows for one’s wyrd or agency: albeit agency constrained by the wyrds or activities of others, but nevertheless capable of weaving reality…

“Entwining the reticulum of the fabric of being and non-being”! (Who do they get to write this stuff? If you understand this, could you please add a comment with some explanation…?)

Anyway… back to luck. The primary energy in luck is relaxed and roomy, and sense is of a suffuse, all-encompassing energy that is contained. The energy is thus at once everywhere and diffuse, and yet local and controlled. A fitting paradox for a mysterious word of contradictions!

Thanks to Nio for suggesting this word of the day!

From Old English Engla Land, “Angle Land”, named after the Angles, one of the Germanic tribes that invaded southern Britain in the 5th century AD. The Angles were called this because they came from the land of Angul, right where the peninsula of Denmark (Jutland) stabs into northern Germany. Here, the coastline makes a sharp ninety-degree angle; hence, Angul.

The primary syllable, “Eng”, is light, tense energy, reverberating. The implications for the character of the English is one that lends itself to cycles of high energy alternating with times of quieter retraction. (Will the British Empire rise again?) “Land” is an interesting case: diffuse, balanced power narrowed and targeted towards a decision. This seems very appropriate for the landing that an airplane does, but is harder to relate to a broad countryside. However, the original meaning of land definitely included the idea of a bordered territory, one which belonged only to one person or tribe; so perhaps the “nd” ending refers to that.

From a Latin compound, protestari, meaning “to testify publicly and forcefully”, which was in turn derived from testari, “testify, witness”. Testari, which is also the root of testament, comes from testis, “a witness”, and literally means a “third person”, i.e. a disinterested party who can give an unbiased view. Protestari entered English in the early 1300’s, but did not carry a sense of disapproval until the 1700’s; and it wasn’t until the late 1950’s that it took on the meanings of “dissent from establishment” and “protest march”.

The sound of protest suggests a strong earth energy gathered at a point, which sets in motion a connective, directed power.

From Proto Indo European root mn, which also appeared as mon and men, meaning “mind, thought”, also the ancestor of mind, mania, mention, mentor, Mandarin, monster, monument, mnemonic, and mazda, among many others. The Greek Mousa, or Muses, were spirit genii of the Arts. The Greek term mousikos meant “in the domain of the Muses”, and mousike techne was “the art of the Muses”, and could mean any of the Arts, but particularly music. Latin borrowed this as musica, which became musique in Old French and music in English around 1250.

Music is simply a manifestation of flowing, rounded energy — directed, strong, and sensual.

Boycott is an eponym, a word derived from the name of a person. In this case the unlucky individual was Captain Charles Boycott, who was an English landholder in Ireland in 1880. He owned many, many square miles of Ireland, but didn’t live anywhere near his holdings, and charged exorbitant rent to the Irish families that had been living on that land for thousands of years. In September of 1880, shortly before the harvest was due to be gathered, many of his tenants demanded that he lower their rents; but instead of doing so, he expelled them. In return, the Irish Land League, a union of farmers and other concerned citizens, organized a boycott of Boycott: no one was to do any business of any kind with him. He was completely ignored by his workers, his personal servants, local businessmen, and the post office. He could not buy anything from shops, and people would not even sit near him in church.

In danger of missing the harvest, Boycott somehow managed to get some 50 people to agree to work his tenants’ fields. He hired protection for them, fearing that they might be assaulted; but this backfired, because it ended up costing ten thousand pounds to harvest £350 worth of potatoes. After the harvest, the boycott continued. By November, the incident was so famously known that the name boycott began to be used as a verb in its own right in newspapers, with the meaning it has today.

In December, Boycott and his family left Ireland for good.

Boycott’s family name comes from a village in Buckinghamshire, most likely meaning “boys’ cottage”, a small house for servants.

The sound of boycott suggests a burst of energy that is both earthy and intellectual, which leads to the drawing forth of Source energy and setting it in motion. It may be that Boycott’s name was so readily adopted as an eponym because its sound lent itself nicely to the movement he unwillingly instigated.

In belated honor of Labor Day. With thanks to Nio for suggesting this word of the day!