CCX: Ode to Language

There are many things in this world I am fond of, one of which is the beauty of language. It is often seen as what separates man from animal (though someone could argue which is the better being, knowing that one is capable of purposeful destruction--let's save that negativity for another day), and it is also something that can unite or divide. Without it though, we are ultimately islands to each other with no hope of a ferry connection.

Language is power, and a full grasp of one's language, in turn, can grant a person limitless authority over the minds and opinions of others. This is why orators were so highly revered in ancient times -- Cicero's skill is still admired today, though he lived over two thousand years ago. The works of poets and writers have been passed down through the generations orally (Homer) and in writing. Shakespeare had an incredible vocabulary that probably stumped his contemporaries the same way that it challenges us now, and in his plays one can see proof of the evolution of language -- for that is not the English we speak today!

Language is a living being supported by the breath of all who use it, and mournful is the day that its last remaining speaker exhales his final breath, because his death carries with it the culture and history of all those who fuelled the once pubescent lifeforce of a now extinct tongue. Yes, like rare animals, languages can be endangered too.

The ability of words strung together to stir the simplest reaction or the most complex emotion is amazing in itself. When added with things like intonation and charisma, sentences can take on a life of their own. Too often these can create the perfect storm -- Hitler was able to plant his ideology into the minds of an entire race -- but on those rare occasions where one voice can bring hope to a fallen nation, or one voice can carry the olive branch of peace, there is nothing one can do than appreciate the owner of that voice, the thoughts shared through the use of those few pearlescent words.

So for someone like me, who has always adored language in all its shapes and forms, colours and nuances; who in turn has enjoyed the sound of music since the first memories I can pluck from that tangled web of my mind; I can think of no better child to glorify than the offspring of Language and Music. To me, her name is Opera--she is multilingual, she has been nurtured by the most creative minds and adopted by a range of novice and unearthly artists. She is a young child with comparatively older parents, and yet she does not age. She is immortal and stuck in a period of a few hundred years, with a repertoire and vocabulary that does not see much evolution except in its interpretation. She is the idea of a sculpture that few are now willing to sculpt, the outlines of a form that fewer are qualified to paint.

Perhaps, then, she is a goddess with mortal parents. Hers is the only family I would wish to be a part of other than my own, but to be accepted by one member alone is hard enough. How do you gain the trust of all three?