Dahven and Friends
An Introduction to Dahverbs
Over two millennia ago, the Greek storyteller, Aesop, created more than 700 fables to illustrate the perils and pitfalls of human behavior, born of his experience as a slave, a sage, and a keen observer of human nature. Parables like The Boy Who Cried Wolf, The Tortoise and the Hare, and The Scorpion and the Frog are still just as relevant today. But Aesop lived 2500years ago! While much about virtue and vice has remained the same, the context has changed: less shepherds, more telephone solicitors; less scepters, more cell phones; less slavery, more racism. Sadly, Aesop offered no advice on parking, global warming, or cell phone etiquette.
When Dahven says something proverbial, her family calls it a Dahverb. This collection of 100 Dahverbs (born of a Hundred Day Project https://the100dayproject.org) fills in a few of the holes that Aesop left, with parables like the Chicken and the Cell Phone, and an Encounter at the Gas Station. Each fable offers a moral, or several from which to choose, and is illustrated with digital collages compiled from public domain photos.
Having no word processor, Aesop did not organize his fables for us, but the Dahverbs are grouped into 6 categories of virtue: Temperance, Courage, Kindness, Justice, Wisdom, and Transcendence, which include more specific qualities like Moderation, Fairness, and Creativity. We all know people who have too little, or too much, of these qualities; virtue lies in finding the balance between extremes. The Dahverb Morality Profile invites readers to consider where they lie on the spectrum. Use the headings to look for wisdom on a particular topic.
Enjoy! And remember: When the mouth opens to laugh, the heart opens with it.
The Moon, the Man, the Ant, and the Dog
The ant emerged from its hill one day to find itself looking into the giant muzzle of a dog. The ant saw only the enormous nostrils and the lolling tongue, unaware that behind the nostrils were eyes, head, body, and a long wagging tail. Nevertheless, the ant was very impressed. The dog snuffled around the ant, panting and drooling, without seeing the ant, and eventually the dog moved on to savor the tantalizing smell of cat urine on a nearby tree stump. When the thunderous noise passed, the ant raced back to its colony. “I have seen God,” it declared with certainty as the other ants gathered round to listen to it describe the giant nostrils of the dog.
The dog continued its tour of tree stumps and fence posts until night fell and the moon came out, a brilliant full moon hanging low in the sky. The dog felt a powerful stirring in its chest as it gazed up at the mysterious light in the sky. It plunked down on its haunches and opened its mouth to howl towards the moon, “Aaaaaaahhh-rooo.” Hearing the howling, the dog’s owner opened the door to look outside and said, “Whatsa matter, boy?” The dog jumped up to lick its owner’s hand and cast its eyes back upwards to the moon, meaning, “I have seen God. Look, look up at the glowing orb in the sky.”
The man chuckled and brought the dog inside, where dog and man settled down beside the fire. The man opened his Bible and read a few passages. Shortly his mind strayed and he found himself gazing into the fire, thinking about the generations of men who had done the same before him and the generations who would continue to do the same when he was gone. “I have seen God,” he thought, feeling close to the great mysteries of the universe.
The moral of the story:
Man understands God about as well as an ant understands the moon.
An Homage to the Semicolon
A group of punctuation marks met one day at the local coffee shop to catch up with each other. They sat around the table, as old friends do, laughing, sharing, and finishing each other’s thoughts.
“Did you hear about the man who killed himself?” asked Question Mark.
“Oh no!” exclaimed Exclamation Point. “That’s terrible!”
Colon, ever the font of knowledge, had more information. “He had a myriad of problems: his wife left him, his dog died, and he lost his job,” he said, listing the poor man’s misfortunes.
Comma nodded her head in rhythm with Colon’s words. “I guess he was lonely, depressed, and broke,” she added, pausing to emphasize each word.
Period jumped in. “Whatever. He’s dead now.” Period was like that, always putting an end to things.
Ellipsis shook her head at their callousness. “You all are so… I mean, it’s a…” Ellipsis had trouble articulating her thoughts and made the mistake of thinking that everyone else knew what she was talking about.
Exclamation Point groaned when Ellipsis trailed off. “I can’t stand it! Just finish your damn senten--”
“Settle down, Ex,” Hyphen interjected. “Everything is blood-and-thunder with you.” Hyphen had a bad habit of cutting people off, but she thought of herself as the glue that holds things together - all right, sometimes an interrupter - but usually a blender-builder. What a chameleon.
Semicolon spoke up from where she had been sitting quietly at the end of the table. “The man died; his story did not.” She continued, “His daughter went on to establish a new holiday; World Semicolon Day celebrates the continuing stories of the people who survive attempted suicide.”
Period, true to form, put an end to the story, lest it run-on. “Yeah, but she killed herself too.”
“Oh! How tragic!” exclaimed Exclamation Point.
What is the moral of the story?
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A. It takes all kinds; everyone has a part to play.
B. Life is a string of semicolons; with a period at the end.
C. The most interesting characters are not necessarily the most obvious.
D. Punctuation matters: the misunderstood hyphens; the presumptuous ellipses; the melodramatic exclamation point… but semicolons are the best!
E. A few commas may be the difference between a happy panda and a mass murderer; consider the phrase, “Eats shoots and leaves.”
The Missing Acorn:
How to Make an Apology
“Did you take my acorn, Squirrel?” asked Chipmunk upon finding her hidey-hole empty.
“Of course not,” said Squirrel. But he had. He heard Chipmunk’s stomach rumbling and looked away, saying nothing, but instead of feeling the satisfaction of a full stomach, he felt the emptiness of deceit.
The next day he thought better of his lie and went to Chipmunk to admit the truth. “Chipmunk, I did take your acorn,” he said, taking Responsibility for his mistake.
As he feared, Chipmunk was angry. “I worked hard to bury that acorn! I saved it so that I would have food during the long winter. I was hungry all day,” she said.
“I’m very sorry. Even so, I know my apology cannot fill yesterday’s empty belly,” said Squirrel, in Recognition of the harm he had caused.
“I am disappointed that you stole my acorn, Squirrel, but I appreciate that you told me the truth.”
“If I could undo it, I would,” said Squirrel. “But since I can’t, I brought you my best acorn.” He proffered his own acorn in Restitution to the surprised Chipmunk. “You have my word that I will never steal your acorn again,” said Squirrel, offering her Reassurance, along with his best acorn.
Because Squirrel had admitted his mistake, Chipmunk believed him. “Forget about it, Squirrel,” said Chipmunk. “I’ve forgotten about it already.”
But Squirrel did not forget about it. Every time he saw Chipmunk, he felt the familiar sting of regret and was reminded never to lie again.
What is the moral of the story?
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A. Sorry has four R’s: Responsibility, Recognition, Restitution, Reassurance.
B. It’s easier to forgive someone else’s mistakes than your own.
C. How many R’s does sorry have?
The Dahverb Morality Profile
