Tag: oaths

Performative Oath

Statue of William Penn bearing turf and twig for the Livery of Seisen, the ritual granting him deed to Pennsylvania.

The problem with verbal oaths is that they are vulnerable to reversal. It is much easier to break promises than it is to keep them. It is necessary in most cultures to require a more concrete expression of the oath, either manifested through elaborate ritual or represented in an object. This is the basis for contract law: the contract acts as the document of an agreement to which a signatory is often forced to honor. It is proof that it took place and that the parties entered into it on unambiguous terms. In most modern legal codes, verbal agreements mean nothing unless “put into writing.” Even if you have witnesses present who can attest that the promise was made, the spoken word is still not considered binding. Resolution is conveyed only in the act of signing. Words mean nothing. I do know of one exception, though: Scotland. I once knew a Scottish law student who told me that in Scotland verbal agreement can be used as substance for contract if the utterance is verifiable. This system of verbal contract must be a nightmare from the standpoint of practical enforcement but there is something about it that is satisfying. It suggests a basic expectation of honor, that one must uphold his or her word—the literal words which emit from one’s mouth.

There are numerous initiation rituals used to redeem one’s membership to a group. Such rituals are often difficult or distasteful to those who have to perform them; this is done so that a barrier to entry is created through which only the devoted would be willing to pass. The most common initiation ceremonies are weddings. Active rituals like the ring exchange or the kiss at the end function to inaugurate the conjugal bond. In traditional Ashkenazi Jewish weddings, the marriage was considered complete only after the Yichud, a period of seclusion immediately after the ceremony in which the bride and groom share 10 to 20 minutes alone together in a private room. In a different era, the bridal couple would have presumably used this time to consummate their marriage with sexual intercourse. Today I think the practice, when it is performed at all, is supposed to be a time for repose and quite meditation.

However, if it happens frequently, it is female viagra online called ED. Sex pills like Triverex ought to be taken ahead of when sildenafil generic from canada the intercourse. So many erectile dysfunction treatments take this challenge freely and provide order viagra cheap completely recovered sexual health to the person. The heart may unsubstantially pump enough levitra price pdxcommercial.com blood to male organ.

Many oath systems require that a declarant substantiate his or her conviction to an idea or position by offering a show of sacrifice to the opposite party in the agreement. All feudal systems operate this way, with the vassal delivering some form of tribune to his lord as a display of obedience. One of the more interesting conviction/obedience rites I’ve found is in Aphra Behn’s Oroonoko. Behn describes how warriors of an indigenous tribe in Suriname (probably fictional) demonstrate their worthiness for leadership through self-mutilation:

“…these two men were to stand in competition for the generalship, or great war captain, and being brought the old judges, now past labour, they are asked what they dare do to show they are worthy to lead an army. When he who is first, making no reply, cuts off his nose and throws it contemptibly on the ground, and the other does something to himself that he thinks surpasses him, and perhaps deprives himself of lips and an eye. So they slash on till one gives out, and many have died in this debate. And ‘tis by a passive valour they show and prove their activity…” (50)

Molly Bloom’s Yesing Reverie

“…and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down drew to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.”

Ulysses concludes with Molly Bloom recalling her husband’s marriage proposal in Gibraltar. The memory is recounted in an impassioned inner monologue brought on by a meditation on the natural world and creation. The central drama of the book is Molly’s adulterous affair with another man, but this monologue seems to negate that act and reaffirm her bond with Leopold. She is essentially accepting his proposal anew in her mind. It is the crowning event of the book—Blooms final vindication.

Male impotency has been a hazardous issue which hampers the achievement pharma-bi.com levitra online canada of stiffer & harder erections of the penile region and with it the erection. We are with others sildenafil österreich pharma-bi.com as we are with ourselves. As per a research which was made recently it has been seen that there is one specific pill which has all the components that are required for returning to normal daily life. on line cialis It helps in the chemical breakdown of food into smaller components thereby facilitating the assimilation nutrients by body cells. purchase generic viagra I bring this passage up here so that we might examine Joyce’s use of the term “yes” in these final lines of his masterpiece. This yes acts liminally as the answer to Leopold’s proposal of marriage, but it works more deeply as the concordant note that binds the two characters together. Leopold presents a view of the future (will you?) and Molly assents to it (I will) and so their future is shared. The word yes is the hinge upon which the future swings. And of course there is not one yes but a profusion of yeses. The passage is laced with them. Here I would draw attention to the way the yeses are used. The words yes and no are unique in language in that they do not belong to any one part of speech. Yes and no are not a nouns, nor are they adjectives, nor verbs, nor adverbs. Some identify it as a particle or interjection, but it cannot conclusively be called any of these. They appear to function outside of the usual parameters of grammar. Joyce exploits this ambiguity and employs yes as whatever part of speech he wishes it to be. In “I put my arms around him yes” it is an adverb. It is an adjective modifying breasts in “so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes”. In “He asked me would I yes to say yes” it is used as a verb and the predicate noun—it is the direct object of itself. The Penolope chapter, as it is called, contains no punctuation so there are no mechanical cues to indicate how these yeses must be read. They are left free to act however one wishes to read them. And so, just as Molly assents to Bloom’s proposal, and to Bloom, the passage complies with the reader’s reading. It acquiesces to us and becomes ours, a manifestation of our own thinking rather than the author’s.

If there is any word in modern language that could be thought of as magical, I think it would be yes. Yes conveys potentiality into the actual. Anything new introduced into the world was first met by an answer of yes. If anything happens, it is because it is allowed to happen, and yes is the incantation that grants that passage. It is an oath of affirmation.