The Wild Motherword

Not to be Confused with Logos

Motherwords

background photo Ibrahim Alqudsi on Unsplash

For me, every word is a speaking living creature,

telling their story, as soon as I get to know them.

〰 Gottlob A. Krause 〰

Roots of the Tree of Knowledge

Among all Sacred Trees of the World, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil has a unique reputation. She turned out to be perhaps the most prolific cultivar.

Despite the fact that she produces the forbidden fruit, she’s managed to sow her seeds far and wide ~ or did the taboo factor give a boost to scattering those banned pips?

When the suckers of the Tree of Knowledge reached the Northwest of the Old World ~ along with the shoots of her companion plant, the Tree of Life ~ they usurped Yggdrasil and Irminsul and many other native Trees held in high regard.

These two specimen from the Garden of Eden invaded the acient soils north of the Mediterranean, displacing the Cosmic Tree of the Norse, the Life Tree of the Saxons, the Guardian Trees of the Celts and many others.

The Wisdom Trees of the World are a fascinating topic, maybe for another blog post. You can find an incomplete list on our Papyri page.

Since starting this project of Symbiopaedia, I’ve been thinking of the flora of the understory ~ the small shoots of knowledge who cover the ground at the feet of those majestic trees.

Given the fame and celebrity status all Trees of Life, Knowledge, and Wisdom have enjoyed for millennia, it is surprising that the minor relations of this gnostic plant family have been flying under the radar for so long.

What I’m talking about here is words. The words we use every day ~ humble cognitive elements of our spoken and written language, phonomorphic carriers of our knowledge, our experience, and understanding of life.

In the gone-by era of Yggdrasil and Irminsul, words were sacred beings too. The German linguist Gottlob A. Krause describes them as ‘living creatures’.

Some colleagues have suggested to introduce a fourth kingdom ~animal, plant, mineral, and language kingdom.

A great idea in principle, however, as we are transitioning from the Anthropocene into the Symbiocene, it would be more appropriate to call all of them kinships.

Or kindoms ~ animal, plant, mineral, and language kindom.

Words are living beings. Many are ancient, or have a long and impressive ancestral lineage. Every word has a story. Most have lived in many different parts of the world, adapted to different cultures, developed different voices and looks.

Words are nomads ~ cosmopolitans ~ polyglots. And they are our symbionts! We couldn’t live without them, and without us they wouldn’t exist.

The Motherword

Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words.

〰 Ralph Waldo Emerson 〰

The word I’ve been thinking about today is a very special one. We could call her the 'Queen of Wordlings' in the English Wildwordwoods. Sounds nice, a bit reminiscent of the old folk and fairytales, but I don’t think she would like to be associated with that anymore.

These woods of wild words are governed by the principles of symbiogenesis, syntropy and biodiversity. They don't have a hierarchical structure, and the title 'Queen' might sound offensive to the ears of the wild wordlandfolk.
 
[The word queen comes from the Old English cwene (= woman) and descends from the Germanic kween (= barren cow). Therefore the Q-word feels like an inappropriate ~ if not insulting ~ title.]

For this reason let’s call her Wild Motherword. This name suits her a lot better.

To define her as the 'mother of all words' might not be accurate historically, in the sense of being the first phonomorph ever uttered by a human. But that's not relevant. In the Symbiocene, the historic records of the Anthropocene no longer need to bother us. This title is not a definition, it’s a description of the principle of motherhood.

The mundane name of Wild Motherword is simply 'word' ~ w • o • r • d. Like most mothers, she is a symbiont rarely talked about. Used all the time. Her presence always taken for granted. Quietly in the background. Supportive of all other verbal symbionts ~ who can be considered her offspring.

A surprising range of words are her direct descendants ~ in the etymological sense ~ even if we can’t find them in the etymological dictionaries.

Etymology aside – all wordly creatures are ultimately her kin and children in spirit.

Word-Cousins and Other Relations

All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.

〰 Khalil Gibran 〰

The English /word/, German /Wort/, Dutch /woord/, Old Norse /orð/, Gothic /waurd/ are first cousins. They all share a so-called Proto-Germanic ancestor called /wurda/.

The lineage of /wurda/ can be traced back to the so-called Proto-Indo-Germanic root /were/ (= to speak, say).

The PIE root /were/ can be linked to the Latin /verbum/ (= word) Sanskrit /vrata/ (= command, vow), and Hittite /weriga/ (= call, summon).

All of this information you can find in the etymological dictionaries. Hittite is an ancient language, originally from Anatolia (Turkey), and now recognised as “the first Indo-Germanic language.”

While all of this is very interesting, there is a missing piece in the puzzle. In etymological dictionaries it is hard to find references about the relationship of the English /word/ with the Arabic verb /w-r-d – وَردَ/ (= to be mentioned, appear, emerge).

/w-r-d/ is a classic Arabic root. As in all written Arabic words, only the consonants are written. Vowels can be added as little dashes above or below the consonants.

/w-r-d/ originates from the Akkadian verb /waradum – 𒇯𒁺 / (= to descend). Akkadian is the oldest known semitic language. It was spoken in Mesopotamia (the old Babylonia, also called Akkad – today mainly Iraq and Syria)

The Akkadians developed their own cuneiform script, which is considered even older than the Egyptian hieroglyphics.

The ‘Indo-germanic’ Hittites from Anatolia ‘borrowed’ their cuneiform writing from the Akkadians.

Now let’s take a look at the morphemes related to the English /word/ – and their meanings. Included in this list are only morphemes with the exact same sequence of consonants as the original Akkadian 𒇯 𒁺 – w r d

(This list is incomplete! If you know of any other words in other languages with the radicals w-r-d, we’d love to add them to the list. Please mention their meanings too!)

word – a meaningful element of speech or writing
ward (English noun) – division in a hospital, prison or city; a person under guardianship; walled area in a castle or fortress
ward (English verb) – guard, protect
-ward, -wards (English suffix) – word element referring to the turning towards a specific place or direction
weird (English noun) – a person’s destiny
weird (English adjective) – supernatural, strange, unusual; connected to fate; original meaning having the power to control destiny
wyrd (old English, from Germanic) – fate, chance, fortune; destiny; the Fates, equivalent to the literally “that which comes”
werde, ward, wird, wurde (German) – different forms of the verb ‘werden’ = to become
warada (Arabic verb, written وَرَدَ = w-r-d + vowels written as dashes above the consonants) – come, arrive, appear, emerge, exist, be mentioned (in a book); reach, travel to, end up at, get to; introduce, induce, achieve, attain; receive (money).
wird (Arabic noun, identical writing to the verb) – watering hole, drinking trough; also specific time of day dedicated to private meditation
waradu (Akkadian verb 𒇯𒁺 = w-r-d) – to come, descend, go down; hang down, droop; decrease, drop
warad, wardu (Akkadian noun, identical writing to the verb) – male slave, servant, soldier, follower, subject (of a king), worshipper (of a deity)

Once waradu took off in the Semitic languages and made its way into the Indo-Germanic language territories, the morpheme began to morph, as you can imagine. Having already attracted the whole range of vowels, the radicals w-r-d themselves began to change too.

New words were born all over the place. Although they began to look a little different from the Motherword, they still carried her spirit.

To honour the Motherword we have called a new Word⚘Fairy into the wildwordwoods 〰 Wardu⚘Ardu [from the Arabic wardun = rose, flower + ardun = earth.]

Wardu⚘Ardu is a reminder of the inseparable bond between Words = our verbal symbionts and Earth = our earthly symbiosphere.

Read more about the w•r•d-family ~ how /word/ is related to /earth/ ~ and why you don't find this information in English etymological dictionaries in Word Diggers and Poachers.