What is this style of burial?
Now, I’m pretty sure, most people are buried with the stone at their heads and the grass-green turf down to their heels. That’s why it’s called a headstone. But were people once buried the other way round? Or is there some style of burial or tradition or religious reason to put a stone at someone’s feet? Is it, like, murder victims get a footstone rather than a headstone? Or those who are quickly buried? Heads of state? Is there some layer of meaning in this stone placement?

Songs slip in at these heightened moments of life. Mostly most of us manage to not burst into song without an invitation or song sheet. But when we stand at one of these transforming moments – singing feels like the most logical choice. I’ve sung at death beds, at births, at weddings and at funerals and all the small steps at those events, in between.

It may also signal, a clear letting go of norms. I’m guessing one doesn’t usually sing to the Queen of Denmark unless specifically asked to do so.

Marking as listening always makes me picture a book. As one reads the book, one makes a little mark by the significant passages one wants to remember. It’s like highlighting in real life.

Say you? Say me. Say it together.
Naturally.

 

Sing it.

The addition of the word “shoon” to sandal improves the word “sandal” immensely. I mean, sure, for us now, shoon is a bit redundant. But it’s a bit like – it makes it more cool. Sandals have lost their cred. Sandal shoe or the plural sandal shoon makes them a bit more exotic. It sounds Scandinavian, in fact – which is interesting – there’s not much language in this play that evokes the Scandinavian, despite its Danish setting. Claudius, Hamlet, Ophelia, Horatio, Gertrude, Marcellus, Barnardo, Laertes, Polonius…no one in this play has a Danish name. The court is full of Latin names, for one. With maybe a hint of German. Sandal Shoon is about the most Danish sounding thing in the whole play.

The pronouns in this song are interesting. It would make the most sense as How should I MY true love know? But it’s not that. It’s how should I know YOUR true love know? In a way – if this is directed at one’s lover – it’s asking, “How am I to recognize myself? How do I know which part of me, which identity, is your true love?”

The usual way is to wonder if one’s love is a true love. It’s “How will I know?” or “It’s in his kiss.” Or any other multitude of popular songs that ask the question of whether a love is true or not. THIS question is much more interesting. Which self am I? Which one of me is your true love?
In a woman who’s had her whole sense of identity shaken, this becomes an even MORE interesting question.

I always took this to mean the Queen. But it may be a more abstract thought. Maybe, in her dis-associative state, she’s started taking on the qualities of the man she loved. Maybe with all her inhibitions out the window, she starts asking the big questions. What HAS happened to her country? Where has its beauteous majesty gone?

We think she means the queen because beauty is so often correlated with women – but perhaps it’s a bigger question.