Any response to my title?
Words inherently evoke reaction. When John Wooden wrote, “Don’t let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do,” he didn’t intend to have the reader tilt his or her head and say, “Well, isn’t that nice.” He wanted ACTION. Change. Courageous effort! The only one who can do that is you!
When humans write with words, we participate in a game of rules and connotations. Whether Iris Murdock or Dr. Seuss, old sage or playful child, each word has significance and direction. Moving forward is what communication is about.
No word goes unheard. Each thought or murmur is heard at some time or another. Be it the prayer, song, idea, quote spoken or written, memories hold little families of words for the stories inside and around them. Words are almost more visible and understandable when not looked at directly, but in the context and haze around them. Be the haze a cloud of connotation and colloquial associations or a haze of human reaction, the possibilities are nearly endless.
Arrangement of words creates nuances of emotion and fact. The interplay between the author’s written thought and the reader’s cerebral connection is varied in millions of ways throughout the history of humankind. Thus, the tension of historical references falling on anachronistic ears illuminates the contrast of time and place. This is the risk writers take when they record their thoughts. The risk encapsulates being unknown or misunderstood by current and future generations alike. If artists manages to be understood, the content and perspective of their words represent yet another layer of discernment for the recipient.
The artistry in aligning words intentionally and brazenly challenges the opponent: the misusage of words. Miscommunication is the antithesis of creative expression. It is inherent to poetry to elicit a response—an emotional action. Constructive response is desired—putting intentional words into purposeful action. An author recalling the tragic or joyous moments of society claims those moments as images of life—be it the sustaining or deterioration of it. The action required then is to continue the former and redirect the latter. Studied in an entry-level class, poetry of protest is about calling for change.
Ask any student or learner of any language, and they have an opinion on language and word usage. They hate it or love it. Some love arranging it into little diagrams with neat little lines for each part of speech in relation to the other words. This relationship realizes itself in the community of learning here while some folks relish words for the craft, performance or articulation—singing words or otherwise.
Thankfully, others use words as conduits to prove and study the world in all its complexities (empirical science, physics folks, thank you for caring and takin’ one for the team).
Another creative channel run the logophiles, such as Shakespeare’s Beatrice and Benedict, and in another branch of linguistics thanks to G.B. Shaw, Eliza Doolittle and this girl right here.
However, a complexity beyond the assumed rules of syntax and semantics is the varied interpretations and conceptions of these “guidelines” around the globe. The clear follow-through of the Francophone, the international effort to maintain a clear-cut usage of French around the world, presents a clear articulation apart from that of the dialects and sways of English around the globe. The guidelines for syntax and semantics are so passionately thrust forward, and yet the abyss of human intellect interprets these rules differently in each epoch and geographical region.
In literature and other forms, English has a history both colored and stained over the centuries. The English language is also stained with the miscommunication of “banned” topics and condoned prejudices, gray areas and caustic errors. For English learners, syntax is one thing, but semantics is another. A recent Star Tribune article questioned the efficacy and fairness of making one language “official” over a melting pot of other cheeses (fromaggio, fromage or queso; a metaphor here for language variations).
An effort of honest communication from a recent choral concert on campus, thanks to Cantus. Several of their renditions, including a Lakota song and a piece by Paul Simon titled “America,” relate to challenging facets of a homeland, the specific one being America. The voices ask for courage from the four winds. They question and demand, even whisper what and where the real America is. What lingers most vividly in the corners of the mind are the fluttering wings of possibility, insisting for peace for the hurting, strength for the weak.