History of the word "Fuck"

Mention the word “fuck” and you will either have people turning up their noses or be stirred with various emotions: anger, excitement, sexual drives, embarrassment etc. It’s a small word and quite unique in make up with only one vowel, and has the same impact as its counterpart and word “love”. In the 21st century, I suppose both words have become heavily abused and with diverse meanings.

So where did this word come from and why did it become such a controversial presence? When my daughter was five she asked me innocently, “what does fuck mean?” and do you think I could give her a meaning without feeling embarrassed and jumping at her with “where did you hear that!” So lets see if I can bring forth a non bias and non emotional explanation of this word.

From the all wise Wikipedia, which currently defines “fuck” as:

Fuck is an English word that, as a verb, literally means “to have sexual intercourse with.” Its use is generally considered censurable and offensive in most formal circles, but may also be rather common or expected in certain situations or social groups.

Now kiddies, if you don’t know what “sexual intercourse is, I suggest a good link here . I STRESS you would need to get permission from your parents before watching this educational film.

Getting back to fuck…

The origins of the word is still a mystery although it does have a strong Anglo-Saxon presence. One of my teachers once claimed the word was a war cry Vikings used in battles and along with raping and pillaging everything in their path. I recall vaguely the same teacher condemning William Dunbar from using the word with such vulgarity. I must admit that English lesson gave everyone the giggles and got my attention for learning, for the first time.

Tracking back to its origins…

One theory suggest it was spawned as code embedded in a poem titled “Flen flyys and freris”. A title easily mistake for the recipe of Haggis or Black Pudding. The poem was written around the 1500s and within the poem was a line “Non sunt in coeli, quia gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk” which translate “they are not in heaven because they fuck wives of Ely”.

Another such theory is that the word is an adaptation of German, Dutch, Norwegian, Swedish words for copulate and penis. Also some reference to Latin, Greek and Celtic words. It’s very hard to pin this down as the word was spoken more than written and used quite sparingly in the old days as it was seen to condemn, accuse and protest against either the church and/or fornication.

One thing is quite apparent with the word; it had quite significant ties with sex/fornication, anger and unlawful lust drives around those times. To say “fuck” had powerful impressions on other people so was rarely written down in its direct form.

I suppose we can thank Scott poets and controversial writers such as D.H. Lawrence for ensuring the word inducted in classic literature and giving other writers license to “document” the word and give it their own meaning.

Up until the 20th century, the word’s meaning was held with great significance and used as such. Now days, it’s more a word of self expression and rarely seen with such drastic impact. You could say “fuck me” with the intention of shock and no one would take offense.

Veil of Perception

The veil of perception, is a philosophical concept. It states that we do not (and cannot) perceive the external world directly; instead we know only our ideas or interpretations of objects in the world. Thus, a barrier or a veil of perception prevents first-hand knowledge of anything beyond it. The “veil” exists between the mind and the existing world. Wikipedia – Representationalism

What does this mean to me?

I once wrote a story called The Callings, which was centered around a group of young people given the gift of long life so they could fulfill a purpose to ensure souls/spirits of others transcended from this life into the next one upon their deaths. For it seemed, agents of Shadow (angels who fell from God’s grace) had the ability to interfere with a person’s soul as soon as it left the body and corrupt it so it no longer had self-will. I poured all my frustration, misunderstandings, hurt and ill perceptions into this story. The story was a time when I was slowly unlearning and stripping back my values. And it was a tough time. When you strip back so much that you are left bare and open, you become confused and, at most times, angry. I was tempted to succumb to drugs and booze and thoughts of “just living for today” and giving up the future; the present has no significance so why bother?

I also found I was tempted to take an ironic life path and succumb to religion. “God feels your pain. Give God your pain and let him fill your life with love and joy,” a man had tried to sell me on a street corner one day when I was feeling at my lowest. His words were soothing and inviting but there was a problem. I had already been in servitude to God when I was a young girl and failed miserably.

As a young girl, each day, for many years, I had dedicated my thoughts and waking moments to the Christian’s God. I went to church, prayed morning and night, and respected the gospel. I was an innocent and accepting soul , and felt the need to preach to others the value system I was being raised in. A few times, I traveled with other members doing door-knock appeals and could never understand why people were quick to slam doors in my face, curse and tell me to go away. Don’t they want to hear about God and what he can do (does) for us?

“They don’t understand dear,” a Sister had answered. “It’s up to us to show them the way.” I accepted her answer and continued being a good soldier for God until the day I became a teenager.

Life became a series of trials for my family. All the ideals of the church slowly dissolved as I found myself without guidance, care and learning. I no longer attended church since my parents had stopped going. My church friends had slipped into a different niche from I, that I nothing in common with them anymore. I still prayed and asked God for help. “I don’t know what to do?” I’d plead night after night. Years later, after moments of confusion, frustration and misguidance, I stopped asking and realized, “sure God exists but not for me.”

More years went by. I existed as an average adult and became one of the door closes to those who were out to “save me from my sins”.

I became angry and turned to writing for relief. It was here, I started to unlearn; researching books on different ways of life and opinions. It started with Wicca and moved on to Zen. I became intrigued with Buddhism and its peaceful philosophies. The more I found out about different religions/ways of life; I started to feel a more complete person until I finally felt balanced. I had adopted philosophies of different practices and it gave me a sense of being my own self, and a feeling that I had a right to my own opinions.

Years later, to this day, I’m still a believer of God (of course I never gave up on him) and if I’m to really understand the world, I can’t be dismissive of other ways of life. It also means, I can’t know everything and sometimes in ignorance there is truth. It is this I believe my seeds of faith.

It pains me sometimes when I see young girls playing soldiers of God with no real understanding of why, especially when they try to enforce their value system on to others and easily dismiss the different life path and views.

A friend once said to me, “wars are created within the Veil of Perception.” At first I had no idea what he meant; now I see it clearly.

Gestation Blues (Part 2)

27.03.08

It’s been almost two months since I wrote the first part of Gestation Blues and not really much has progressed.

Weeks 19 – 24 Gestation

I recovered from hurling my innards all over the place and found the strength to return to work. Although, catching the two hour toilet-trains every morning and night would prove to be an annoyance. If you’re not sure what I mean in regards to “toilet-trains” think of marred walls and windows, worn seats and a collection of old farts, body odours, stale food wrappings and left over smells of McDonald burgers and spicy Chinese food rocking about. I found each night involved a quick shower to refreshen my body and senses before scoffing up my dinner.

At work, I was able to focus on tasks and keep a routine. Life picked up from where I left off. Towards week 20, I started to feel butterflies in my stomach and realised it wasn’t because I was nervous. The aliens were, finally, making their presence known although a little shy and a little bit at a time.

It was also during this time I despised my favourite foods: chocolate, junk food and fizzy drinks, and craved for salad sandwiches, scrambled egg rolls in the morning and iced green tea. These little buggers made me crave to snack on nuts, fruit and vegetable sticks too.

By week 23 my skin was glowing, smooth and taunt like a choice piece of… chicken breast. I have a great complexion and receive the compliments to boot. Although, my GP is still concerned about my consistent weight loss, high thyroid and low blood pressure. So, I get more blood drained out of me and see an endocrinologist about my overactive metabolism which is apparently as rampant as Jenna Jamison’s high jinx flicks.

More money is donated to the medical system and I’m told, “nothing to worry about, all is good.” As if it is confirmation of this statement, the tummy butterflies are more obvious and regular. So much so, that I start to feel strains towards my belly button. It’s like the little buggers are playing tug of war with the umbilical cord and yanking my stomach every which way. Either that or one of them is trying to strangle the other one. I get a good glimpse of them at one of my check ups.

[Hello Starshine. Welcome to earth.]

Eventually, I find travelling too much and leave work. Which is just as well as I got in trouble with the boss before hand and had to be a good girl before taking a hike (since I’m coming back to the job in 12 months).

If I thought I was going to coast it during my time at home, I was soon to realise how seriously stuffed up a theory that was.

My first week saw me cooking, cleaning, ironing, taking kids (mine and my niece) to and from school, feeding mouths, scrubbing floors and windows, more ironing, washing, cleaning and so on and so on. I’m more exhausted doing house work than I was doing office work. You really have to respect stay at home parents for the hard work they do. It’s as highly demanding as customer service yet scantly paid. All I can say towards being a house worker “12 month contract”.

During this time, my little boys are now kicking like pro footballers. So much so I’m convinced there is a little Beckham parading around my tummy. It doesn’t help when they’re night owls, squirming and poking about my insides. At one time, they had kicked and moved so much the TV remote shuffled off my tummy. I have a scary feeling that they’re doing some serious renovations on my intestines and uterus; involving balloon animals and turning my kidneys into futons.

My daughter is in awe of the idea she’s going to have brothers and is already stirring them with nicknames. She’s being a good helper for me in the mornings; doing her own breakfast and making sure her lunch is packed for school. I treat her when I can and make sure we still have bonding moments so it’s not all about the babies.

So, this is the stage I’m up to. My belly is popping out more each day and I feel my skin stretched to the max. Not to mention the squirming is beyond weird and a bit of a pain at times. But the good thing is after 40 weeks it’ll be all over red rover. They’ll be born as human beings and a new adventure will begin.

That’s where the real lifetime fun kicks in.

RO:Cozmist

“The richness I achieve comes from Nature, the source of my inspiration.” This quote was said by Claude Monet, a great impressionist painter. It is a quote that came to mind when I read Cozmist’s information for this feature.

Cozmist’s portfolio contain captures of nature one can journey into. From sitting up in the branches amongst the clouds and admiring a golden sky to discovering the Busselton Jetty. Her images introduce you to a different view of Australia. I highly recommend a visit.

She has the privilege of living on a 108 acre farm in Busselton, WA (Australia), which is surrounded by bush and natural beauty. “I live in a great place with birds and trees outside my window. Who could not want to get up and take photos?” says Cozmist.

She hopes her works will one day lead her to an exhibition or see some of her works displayed in a gallery for others to appreciate. And has ambitions to do zoo photography to the likes of Red Bubblers Munday Hackett, EC Gardiner etc. The challenges she face at the moment is the joys and tribulations of being a mother for two young ones. “They don’t have the biggest attention span, so I have to work around them usually a ten minute block at a time on a computer,” says Cozmist. She also has the problem of being remote from a lot of other places. For example the zoo is one place she’d like to take her children and camera, but it’s about a four hour drive from her home.

Despite the juggles of being a mother and being slightly remote, she has been able to maintain her art passion well. I have know doubt she will continue to grow and achieve.

Cozmist has brought us a wonderful view of nature to Red Bubble and for that I am truly grateful.

RO: The Magician’s Nephew (Narnia) by C.S. Lewis

I love The Chronicles of Narnia. It’s an overall sweet and inspiring piece of fiction that all ages can read and enjoy. Currently, I have fun reading the chronicles to my girl and explaining/painting out the characters and world to her. Although, she is a bit too young yet to understand the story fully.

I finished reading The Magician’s Nephew to her and was told I don’t have to read the Lion Witch and Wardrobe because she’s already seen it LOL.

With the Magician, boy, C. S. Lewis stories must’ve been something unique of his time. The idea of being swept into other worlds via use of an object must’ve been a far fetch concept and something which played with children’s (and possibly adults) imagination. As this was written around the 1950’s, the somewhat formalness of C.S. Lewis’s writing might be a bit perplexing for young minds, but explained right, nevertheless invigorating.

What I love about the Magician’s Nephew is the rich detail he gives us with the London he knew of his time and the way between worlds. The detailing of Empress Jadis’s world is sublime and intriguing.

The story starts off with two children exploring their imaginations and doing what children did in those days. Their adventures lead them to a room and way to another world.

The Magician’s Nephew is indeed to the start of all things Narnia and leads the way to the next adventure we all know.