Tag Archives: cymraeg

Brwydro: battle, fight, combat, struggle

I remember sitting in the common room with a fellow Quaker Pagan theology PhD student. (I say ‘a’, perhaps ‘the other’!) Anyway, we were discussing theology, as you do when you’re a theology PhD student, and we were discussing whether Pagan and Quaker theologies can be compatible, as you do when you’re a Quaker Pagan theology student. Specially, my friend raised the question of whether it would be acceptable for a Quaker Pagan to worship Odin, given that Quakers are pacifists and Odin is, among other things, God of War.

“I quite like Odin,” I reflected. “Wisdom, words, fetching the runes, that kind of thing.”

“Indeed,” my friend agreed. “He scores a fair number of Jesus Points, too, what with the hanging on the tree bit.” (‘Jesus Points’ are awarded to a character based on how much they resemble Jesus. Other high scorers include Superman and Gandalf.) “But how do you deal with him being God of War, too?”

“I suppose I’ve always thought of it as a metaphorical war,” I said. “Like jihad – the inner struggle.”

I was reminded of this conversation when I read the dictionary entry for the Welsh word brwydro – the first three English words offered (battle, fight, combat) all admit of metaphorical meanings but can easily refer to physical violence, while the fourth (struggle) is much more likely to mean non-physical, or at least non-violent, endeavours.

I’m not entirely convinced by my own argument, by the way. There’s not a lot in Norse myth to suggest that anything expect actual real violence is intended by the discussions of war. But perhaps the acts of cross-cultural borrowing involved in creating this reading of Odin as a pacifist God of Jihad are illuminating for the modern world – or at least my interfaith-aware way of doing theology.

Bywyd: life

Ynddo fe roedd bywyd, a’r bywyd hwnnw’n rhoi golau i bobl. Ioan 1:4

In him was life, and the life was the light of all people. John 1:4

I had already chosen this word for my next post, and then over the weekend happened to learn another way to say it – in British Sign Language. You can watch three videos of the word ‘life’ at the BSL Dictionary. For some reason, the video in which it is signed on the left seems more intuitive to me than the other two, perhaps because it seems to make a link with the heart.

I was thinking about ‘big’ and ‘little’ meanings of the word life. In the Biblical quotation at the start of this post, the word ‘life’ seems to be used for a big, abstract, all-encompassing concept. But there’s also the ordinary, everyday kind of life: the step-by-step process of building a good life. These two meanings come together sometimes, as in Advices and Queries 1 where God brings us “i fywyd newydd/to new life”.

A lot of my time recently seems to have been taken up with the details of building a new life. At one level, not much has changed – I have the same job, most of the same possessions, same friends – but a new flat brings lots of new changes to shop for things, do DIY, and generally decide what the small parts of one’s life will look like. Someone asked me recently whether I was really writing a book or ordering curtains. “Both,” I said, a little bit annoyed by the suggestion that one has to choose – but of course there is always the temptation to let one take priority over the other. It is true that in the last month I have written less than usual, and bought more furniture.

My life needs both, though. The promptings of love and truth (‘cariad a gwirionedd’) include love for oneself. Although I have been known to joke about the benefits of a garret, I actually find that a comfortable chair is most conducive to living out my ministry through writing.

Arbennig: special, distinct, peculiar

Mae gen i ffrind arbennig. I have a special friend.

This is a common enough phrase that you can even buy it on a card. In English, I’m more used to people talking about a best friend (and by people, I mostly mean Brownies – it’s very very important when you’re a nine-year-old girl, and although I enjoy spending time with them I don’t mind that I’m not one any more!). I’m in two minds about whether this claim, Mae gen i ffrind arbennig, is true for me – of my friends, I wouldn’t be able to pick the ‘best’ one, but obviously all of them are special.

I probably wouldn’t call them that to their faces, though. When I was at school, the use of the phrase ‘special needs’ was ingrained enough to have reached the playground, where it rapidly took on many of the connotations of the offensive words it replaced: idiot, retard, and so on. “You’re so special” was distinctly an insult during my childhood. I haven’t been able to find out whether ‘arbennig’ has taken on that meaning in Welsh – although I was able to confirm that it’s used in phrases like anghenion addysgol arbennig, special educational needs. (Language learners gotta love these government websites with a button in the top right to flick back and forth between languages, by the way. I think it makes it easier for me to explore Welsh in a way which would be very difficult, especially alone, with another language.)

In order to find that out, though, I had to wade through several pages of Google results about a restaurant in Cardiff called Arbennig, though. I’ve no idea whether their food is any good but they have made themselves special in terms of page ranking dominance!

Once I got past, though, I was also pleased to discover some other uses of ‘arbennig’: Casgliadau Arbennigspecial collections, often the best part of any library, and Safleoedd o Ddiddordeb Gwyddonol Arbennigsites of special scientific interest. I especially (do you see what I did there?) like the last one because ‘diddordeb‘ looks like it is related to ‘diddorol’ – ‘interesting’ – one of my favourite Welsh words because it’s both fun to say and can be deployed as an answer to so many possible comments!

Aros: to stay, to wait – and an introduction to this year’s blog project

Dw i’n aros yn Llanuwchllyn. 

Roedd hi’n aros a’r bws.

I’m a big fan of getting two jobs done at once – killing two birds with one stone, as the non-vegan non-pacifist proverb has it. So when I was thinking about my goals for 2018, I looked for ways to put more than one together. ‘Go back to working on family history’ and ‘do more creative writing’ added together very neatly when I found a course called Writing Your Roots. Another two items on my list are ‘write blog posts regularly’ and ‘keep learning Welsh’: so I’ve added them together, and my plan is to write alphabetical blog posts as I’ve done before, but this time, using Welsh words. It won’t fit quite as neatly into the year because Welsh has some extra letters, but I’m sure I’ll work it out somehow. 🙂

I did think about blogging entirely in Welsh, but it would be too much of a stretch for a) my language skills and b) my readership! As it is, I hope it’ll prove interesting for you and educational for me. If nothing else, it’ll give me plenty of chances to fail better. (Ac os dych chi’n siarad Cymraeg, cywiro fy gramadeg, os gwelwch yn dda!)

The word I’ve chosen to start with is ‘aros‘. As you can see from that dictionary link, it has a wide variety of meanings. It was the first Welsh word I learned ‘in the wild’ – by having a conversation in Welsh and being told a new word, rather than from a teaching source like an app or a learner’s text. In that case, I was looking for the word to describe ‘staying’, as in a holiday cottage. Dw i’n aros yn Llanuwchllyn, I am staying in Llanuwchllyn, not to be confused – as I did in that conversation – with Dw i’n byw yn Llanuwchllyn, I live in Llanuwchllyn.

Among other things, though, it can also mean ‘to wait’, as in my second example sentence: Roedd hi’n aros a’r bws, she was waiting for the bus. Thinking around this – trying to find the connections which help me commit this sort of thing to memory – I was reminded of two Taize chants which I often get mixed up: Wait for the Lord and Stay Here with Me. The latter is based on the command Jesus gives outside the garden of Gethsemane: stay here and keep watch. Imagine how pleased I was to turn to my Welsh Bible and be able to find the verb there as well, now in the command form: arhoswch yma, a gwyliwch.

My mind thrives on connections like these – I’ve never been good at learning lists, because I always want to know how things are related to one another. Hopefully I’ll be able to find many more in the rest of 2018.

Happy new year and thanks for reading – blwydden newydd dda a diolch am ddarllen!