Tag: words

Somewhere, long ago

On By robertalanrifeIn Life of Rob, Waxing PoeticLeave a comment

Somewhere, long ago, I lost a language.

Words, like jeweled coasters perched light on window-sills,

just out of sight; carefully lettered, dim-lit hallways,

diffused in a dappling dawn –

a reverie in lost sentences referencing only themselves.

I sought what little I could find,

rummaging in refuse, refusing the catalyst of tongue

and tooth when, better equipped, silence met me instead.

Still, as phrases found the furniture of faith,

they stood a bit taller than the mouth that spoke them,

and, in a final flash of familiarity, returned.

 

Finding my way with words…again

On By robertalanrifeIn Words...always words8 Comments

 

As I say ad nauseam, words hold great fascination for me. Like a good wine or succulent steak, they should roll in the mouth teasing us out of lethargy and into fantasy. I’ve built entire paragraphs around a single tantalizing word I’ve discovered. I mean, come on, how can a person not get goosebumps upon hearing words like pandiculation, sententious; contumelious or jejune (thank you, Frasier). Since I am a word geek, but an amateur, I must speak without perspicuity (see, isn’t it fun?!) about a number of linguistic ailments troubling me of late.

The first is the unforgiving forward march of colloquialism for its own sake. The fullness and potential of our language is forced to pose as a mere undercurrent while our worst, or at least, carelessly casual renditions of it suffers from a “never cry wolf” scenario. It calls out, taunting us with its beauty and yummy goodness only to tease us upon reaching it with the text-speak it has become. Our etymologies, left underused, are trumped by the language of our street level encounters with one another. The onerous ubiquity of pop-speak, text-splutter all too easily bullies us with a kind of syntactical imperialism, usually from whoever holds the what’s-cool-now cards. Those of us self-appointed word cops run to the rescue of a drowning language only to discover that we had acted preemptively and the malady escapes. Like pushing a parachute underwater, it simply pops up elsewhere. When it happens again and again, we grow weary of the chase and join ‘em since we can’t beat ‘em.

Truth be told, this is how all language evolves. Perhaps this is not such a bad thing or we might still be in the throes of “straightway”, “contrariwise”, “forsooth”, “forthwith” and a host of other culturally high-nosed non-necessities. Lest I begin to sound too much like the aforementioned language-Luddites, I’m the first to admit my own occasional lapses into Facebook-ese if for no other reason than to escape the notice of those who might otherwise call me out on it.

Secondly, something I’ve said a jillion times – that abuse of overstatement otherwise known as hyperbole. Saying a word or phrase a jillion times does not, in itself, lend any greater credence to the word or phrase in question. Insistent hyperbole has left our language flat, uninteresting, boring and impotent, unable to even arouse us from our phonic slumber.  I confess that my own struggle with the issue can easily be compared to the epic battles faced by Moses at the foot of Mt. Sinai or Lawrence of Arabia (this is exaggeration, not hyperbole…honest). The loss of subtlety, clarity and nuance delivers a word-life that is monochromatic, thin, even morose as a consequence.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, (my posts are generally far too long) is our love for the more-is-better preference. Our love for more-chat-is-better, not in length, depth and style, but in frequent, drably trite verbal diarrhea (think Twitter) has left us yearning for silence, the spaces between the words where we regain our footsteps. It’s often the punctuation and not the words it contextualizes that can steady our gait, allowing us to reenter conversation and community with class, poise and aplomb. The constant barrage of words, ideas and images (kinda like this post) all but guarantee that we are robbed of silence, the very silence that could enliven our spirits and enrich our conversation, leading to community.

So, there you have it. These are my ongoing struggles both for and agin’ the forward march of  language evolution. As you can plainly see, I’ve been the victim more than once of a sound playground pummeling. After all, who wants their words of simple communication continuously berated as sub-standard? Especially by some smug, self-appointed word doctor? Be that as it may, I stand by my diagnoses and humbly await the next unwelcome conflagration unwittingly brought upon myself whereby the shape and color of my face are akin to the same in our less than ideal lexical enrollment.

In case we do not speak again, farewell, and think thee not ill of me…

Finding my way with words…still

On By robertalanrifeIn faith, life together, literature, sacramental living, the artsLeave a comment

As I’ve shared before, I am one of those who cares deeply for words, big words, little words…words about words. I recently read Marilyn Chandler McEntyre’s brilliant tete a tete on language entitled Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies. In her book she offers some strategies by which those of us who make this claim can begin to reclaim the power, clarity and beauty of language from the many dangers both immanent and potential that beset it. She encourages us to become caretakers of language. At the top of that list is a simple but obvious one:  become a lover of words.

Check.

Language and all it represents is a gift worth fighting for. God uses it to create and recreate. God, in some mystical sense most of us will never understand, is language; is words – the Word. Hence there exists an inseparability of language from the One whose idea it was to speak all things into existence by means of it. From the first words we read in Genesis, “In the beginning…God created…and it was good” we get a picture of the dominance of speech in the totality of human life. God, as Word, speaks words by which all we are and have come to know now, exists.

Language seems like it’s a God-thing alone in the first broad brush strokes of God’s ex nihilo creative activity. It’s not until another comes, by God’s design and in response to God’s words, that language can be seen as the glue in communication between parties. It now acts as the bedrock of love, community and progress. As language that is beautiful, reliable and truthful disappears, so does the community it was meant to gather and nurture.

We’ve lost our trust in the reliability of language. Words change over time. In many ways this has always been true and, to a large extent, inevitable. The problem is, however, that the purest forms of speech that give voice to our deepest needs, desires and passions have become as distorted and bent as we who use it. Whatever is meant by “the fall” it took language right along with it.

It’s common for any collective to morph according to the will of the alphas in the group. Similarly, the shape and demeanor of our communication will bend to the loudest kid in the room; it will come to serve whatever happens to be the most influential force to which we pay homage.

English is the undisputed language of commerce worldwide. Because English is the language of so much conquest, it is well practiced in the macabre arts of dominance and privilege. The sheer volume of English words coupled with its global dominance make its destruction both troublesome and ominous. Language has, for too long, been lashed to the flagpole of corporate nationalism, the yardarm of the sinking ship of words for their own sake where form is function. This cross-pollination of words has left a confusing moral-linguistic morass. For example, to use the warm-hearted language of family and connectivity in corporate interests or sports gibber-gabber to describe the horrors of war, we are effectively removed from the wider, deeper concerns language begs to convey and possibly amend.

Conversely, since English is also the collected amalgam of the street-speak of vanquished foes and victims of such empire building, it is a language of unparalleled nuance and texture. It needs those who love it for the latter while seeking to undo the damages of the former. It needs caretakers.

For words to do the work for which they were intended and move beyond mere factual transmission at best to manipulation and domination at worst, we must re-tool ourselves to being lovers of community built upon communication with words at the deepest levels. Words are performance art over against utility, a dance instead of marching army or typing pool. Like discovering our enemies have fears and dreams like we do, words can be freed to promote beauty, friendship and good will.

At least I hope so.