GarniGal's Journal:

“The quality of mercy is not strained;

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”

I learned that speech at 14 years old. I was a little nerd, in a rural school, who loved to read and imagine that I knew more than the average 14 year old. The first four lines are all I remember now, but I still imagine I’m better than the average person when I drop it into conversation, casually mentioning that I learned that in grade 8.

I can explain the meaning of the words, despite the floridity of the language. I can tell you how it impacts the story, these words coming from a female character with so little power to change her destiny that she relies on wordplay to avoid marrying arrogant assholes who want her money and the power her connections provide. How she steals power by dressing as a man and using the intelligence that she always had to change fate and manipulate the law. I can even tell you how the audience reacts when she launches into the speech, us knowing that the other characters don’t know who she is, don’t know why she’s doing this, don’t know why she cares about mercy.

I can’t tell you how to be merciful. It’s not a characteristic I’ve spent much time developing. I hold grudges; I remember slights against me or against those I care about, and I will never forgive that. I am selfish; I focus on my own needs and that of my family and friends first, only considering others once our needs are satisfied. I get angry when I’m ashamed or embarrassed, trying to blame my mistakes on poor communication or limited options.

In the end though, it isn’t mercy that saves Antonio from sacrificing a pound of flesh, it isn’t heaven or kindness or compassion or second thoughts that save him. It isn’t even a flowery speech.

It’s holding grudges, it’s selfishness, it’s anger. It’s logic, in the form of a woman hidden under men’s clothing choosing to help her family and friends first, leveraging poor communication to twist the rules to suit herself.

In the end, the quality of mercy is a beautiful speech that does nothing to evoke mercy in the heart of the characters. In the end, Antonio is saved through wordplay, and everyone lives happily ever after, secure in having money and power and not needing the blessings that mercy offers.

Everyone except Shylock, who in the name of mercy is forced to give up his wealth, his religion, his daughter. In the end, mercy is a punishment and blesses no one.

Quality

(Sadly no Milton this week — maybe next week will have a prompt I can use for it)

It’s always been part of my identity that I’m not a morning person. I’m not an early riser, I don’t wake up cheerful and ready to tackle the day. My entire family will tell you - “oh, she’s just worthless in the morning!”

Growing up on a farm, sleeping in was treated like a moral failing, something that must be fixed. “How will you handle early lectures when you go to school?” “You need to get past this, you can’t be late once you start working!” Despite all their efforts, my naturally preferred waking time was 8:30am, followed by an hour-long wallow in my warm bed with a book.

Today, I’m a week short of 46. I’ve been working full-time since I was 24, and had summer or co-op jobs since I was 17. I’ve had periods of unemployment - high-tech isn’t the most stable of careers - but I’ve never once been fired for chronic lateness. I have a daughter that we walk to school at 8:15, through rain, shine, snow, and sleet. I wake up every morning at 6:30 at the latest to make sure I get at least a few minutes to myself before the craziness begins, and during work from home due to COVID, I often sat down at my desk by 7am. 

I have seen my parents change. In retirement, my mother loves to sleep in and has a book on the bedside to read with coffee when she wakes. She often doesn’t get dressed until 10am. My dad is still an early bird, but often stays up late into the night to watch sports, and relies on an afternoon nap to get through the day.