Hi,
I have been thinking about one of my favourite German words: 'jein', i.e. 'ja'+'nein', yes and no. So fond am I of 'jein' that whenever I hear a native speaker pass up the chance to use it — 'Ja und nein zugleich', or whatever else they say instead — I feel an urge to remind them of the succincter possibility their glorious language presents. (For historically — and indeed presently — obvious reasons, Germans are often wary of seeming too overtly proud of German. But it is a fantastic language, and I reckon Nichtmuttersprachler are allowed to say so.)
'Jein' encapsulates the magic of German for me: its never-ceasing mission to pin down ambiguity into something more precise. There's a word for nearly everything, and when there isn't, you're more than welcome to make up your own – an IKEA language for a nation that also loves actual IKEA. That's not to say German can't become obfuscatory when used by people who are determined to say essentially nothing; the centrist response to the many current political crises is a recipe for word salad with umlauts on the side. But on the off chance you want to tell the truth, German is fit for purpose. Zweckdienlich, even.
(Incidentally, there's another great word to describe compounds like 'jein': a Wortkreuzung, i.e. word-crossing. I like to think of the words duelling with sabres.)
In German, I tend to say 'jein' when asked if I believe in astrology. German native speakers sometimes use 'jein' to indicate maybe, hm, not sure — but in my personal rendition of German, I reserve 'jein' exclusively for a true simultaneous yes and no. Yes to astrology, and no to astrology; jein. It's not that I'm not sure; it's not that I'm struggling to reconcile any form of internal conflict; the 'yes' and 'no' answers are both true, and inside me they peacefully coexist.
Whenever I'm seeing someone new, I ask for their sun/moon/rising. My subjective experience tends thereafter to be that they behave spookily on-point with their personal constellation, and that we vibe or hate each other or both simultaneously in exactly the manner one would predict. On my non-believer level, I explain this phenomenon thus: a) the descriptions are porously generic to begin with, b) confirmation bias, and c) people who are aware of their astrology often use it to lean into bad behaviours. (And good behaviours, but this is rarer.)
In the parallel reality where astrology is real, it brings me the same specifying comfort that German does. Everyone is sorted, everyone belongs, a place for everyone and everyone in their place.
My belief in astrology is, however, most firmly motivated by the annoyingness of its disparagers. My conviction only strengthens with each 'Wait, you actually think that shit is real?' from men who believe in mainstream economics. To some extent I play up my investment in astrology simply because it annoys all the right people. But I cannot do things just as a bit; everything I do, I come to mean.
Recently my former London flatmate shook me by mentioning in passing that his birthdate might have been fudged, and that he might not in fact be a Scorpio. For the past decade, he and I have bonded over his sun being my rising. We can both be vindictive and emotionally relentless, and tend to bring out these qualities in one another; my enemies are his enemies and vice versa, and we gossip and scheme with great glee. How could we not both be part-Scorpio? But due to my jein, I have no need to investigate the matter. The yes to astrology will never stop believing he's a Scorpio, and the no didn't believe it to begin with.
Since you asked: Aries sun, Virgo moon, and, as we have established, rising Scorpio. I defy you to read up on the descriptions and say it doesn't fit me to a tee.
*
Mid-January; the worst is over. Mine has actually been quite nice, a mix of work and piano practice and catching up with people in Dublin and trying not to overdo it on the Pilates. My personal philosophy tends to be that more is more, but too much will destroy your lower back.
I'm currently reading two novels by Berlin friends: Zwei vernünftige Erwachsene, die sich mal nackt gesehen haben by Anika Decker in German, and Gli annegati by Lorenzo Monfregola in Italian. I'm enjoying both, but it's going slowly because I have a million deadlines. None of which involve writing a newsletter about 'jein', but I did it anyway. I suppose it was in the stars.
Till next time,
N