Please consider:
On page 45 of my book it reads: "There must be a language that doesn't depend on words, the boy thought. I've already had that experience with my sheep, and now it's happening with people."
Simply, what is this language and how do you understand it? Looking at the blog entries I gave you today in class, I think it is safe to say that the most successful engage the question on a literal, symbolic, and personal level. Thus, I would implore you to try this one on for size. With that being said this seems to me to be a good exercise that encourages you to try without any fear of the implications your effort might garner.
I will comment, and give feedback, to these entries both personally and on a collective basis.
Please let me know if you have any questions.
Good luck in your search for a personal legend,
King Santiago, hahaha
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7 comments:
This is that song, Timshel, because I catalogue songs in my head and really like it when they line up with other things that are going on...
So, it's Mumford and Sons, they're really very good. I recommend Little Lion Man and White Blank Page probably most of all, but all their music is interesting. Anyways:
Song- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qh7SAxasTZU
Lyrics- http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/3530822107858789860/
Also, regarding the language older than words, I was thinking about compassion and empathy as a kind of language. Those sort of intangible feelings, I think they must have existed before words, and after we assigned them names, as we do everything. Is that why it's so difficult to understand a language older than words, because we have words for them now?
Jo,
1. I really like White Blank Page
2. I think it's interesting that you chose compassion and empathy as the two words, or feelings, that make up the foundation for this language without words. I agree that these two emotions existed long before our current form of communication and that making words for them has made them harder to understand fully. My question then becomes why? Language is meant to clarify, to erase miscommunications, and to describe. We can so much more accurately convey our feelings and explain ourselves with our words, and yet for all of this progress we seem to have lost touch with something. Perhaps language, like technology, is a wonderful advance for society but also a complication and a distraction from other signs we are meant to see, hear, and feel. As Santiago journeys through the desert he begins to grasp the meanings and signals of objects that don't actually speak to him: "Yesterday the camel's groan signified danger, and now a row of date palms could herald a miralce" (86). The important realization here is that Santiago is absorbing so much information by listening to his surroundings, despite the fact that he cannot seem to focus on his book. The written word is certainly powerful, but staring at a page presents the same problem as staring at the spoon filled with oil. It's far too easy to fixate one one source of information, one kind of language, and miss all of the others. The Englishmen, for all his determination and dense reading material, cannot fully grasp the concept of alchemy because he tries too hard to understand the codes and the strange words. In straining to force an understanding of one type of language, he gets farther away from achieving that goal. Santiago on the other hand sees that if the secrets can be written on an emerald, then they must be simple. He discovers that, "the purifcation of metals had led to the purifcation of themselves" and also that "the world has a soul, and whoever understands that soul can also understand the language of things" (83). The Englishmen, like many students at the Academy I would imagine, struggle to find answers in one manner. We're taught that books, memorization, and singleminded academic focus are keys to success. You can practically see kids walking between classes with their eyes cast down as if they're staring at a spoonful of oil. Santiago is more of an enlightened student who is able to converse with nature, thoughts, and feelings, and thus he is able to easily understand seemingly complex ideas. He purifies himself, and gets in touch with the soul of the world when he is able to read his surroundings as easily as a book. I'm a fan of the written word, but I think we sometimes use it as a shield to block out another form of language because we have come to prefer logical systems rather than intuition and invisible connections. So what is this other "language" that is so much simpler than ours? I think that it is those "intangible feelings" as Jo mentioned, but maybe even less abstract than that. I think the language is just what we observe. When we talk, read, or watch someone else's mouth move while simultaneously listening, there is so much going on in our heads that we don't see what's around us. This other language is happening constantly--the camels are always groaning, the wind is stirring the leaves, the birds are active, and emotions are constantly being felt...the language is everything natural above, below, to the left, and to the right, that we just don't notice because we give everything names and words and then we talk about them... and that makes us so damn loud all the time.
This will be short because I just thought of something today that I wanted to talk about. I don't know if i am speaking the obious, but whatever.
I have been thinking about the question, Who is the alchemist and what is alchemy? And this is what I have figured out (and by figured out, I mean to say that this is what I am thinking...)
The alchemist is whoever. If the boy is just "the boy", meaning that he could be anyone, then the alchemist could be anyone, too. You don't have to be a learned person in order to be an alchemist--look where it has gotten the Englishman, or rather, look where it hasn't gotten him... Books will not acheive your Personal Legend, and you cannot expect to turn metals into gold after simply reading a book about it.
On the contrary, alchemy is the journey of an individual to find that which they dream of or what they need. Eventually, the dreams of an individual become the only thing that they truly need. Example: The sheep only need food and water. It seems so simple, and maybe it is. Why does everything need to be complicated? That brings me astray, for I have been wondering why the boy has to travel so far to reach his treasure. Isn't all of the travelling occuring within himself, anyway. His Personal Legend is within himself--dreams are within the mind. So why the hell should he have to travel around Africa in search of something which is within him all along.
Sorry, I know that I am the thrid party looking in so I should not be getting frustrated with the boy for something he does not understand, but I just don't understand it either. I just don't know.
Towey
Hi Kate. You made me think when you were saying about language as a great, advantageous step in communication and a roadblock in another sense, because by using words, we have forgotten all other languages. The thing is, there are still things we don't have words for. It's not a complete thing, this spoken language, it's full of holes, great gaping holes. I suspect we quite often settle for one word, which doesn't quite fulfill what we ask of it, simply because we know no other way to convey it.
I also suspect that in the language, or languages, without words, there aren't those holes, and if there are, they're more like pinholes. So, I agree, we need both, or all, and we've been given this great thing with the spoken word, but at the same time we've ignored all the other languages. If we could comprehend both, we'd be...set, really. That would do it. I think maybe that's why we find such joy in finding the 'right' word, on those rare occasions we manage to say exactly what we feel or mean by simply using our limited vocabulary.
Some questions I'm considering as I write this: Can we figure out those languages? Is there still hope for that? And you know how we're always saying, "I just made that word up," are those words that keep being added to the newest Webster's clutter? Or are they expanding this very limited vocabulary? And also, do people think it's a little appalling we've tried to capture whole languages in one book? And even more appalling, the fact we've nearly succeeded?
Jo, I think that as complete as we think our language is, it is as you said always being added to. I would say that the added words are not clutter. I don’t always agree that they should be in the dictionary: Memory foam… That is just plain silly, and completely fad driven but other words like: neuroprotective… this seems to make sense. It means to protect nerves from degeneration or injury. Why not have this word? But then that creates the question of what words should be included and because you maybe don’t think that neuroprotective is as cool of a word as I do, maybe you don’t think it should be included in the dictionary. I feel that similar to how maps are always changing and territories and borders get redefined, our language will always be changing. The word “trousers” seems outdated but “kitchen shears” has no replacement (kitchen scissors sounds silly) so what would you call kitchen shears and avoid sounding silly.
I have to wonder if etymologists know something we don't. And the jokes on us. Or else the joke's on them. I'm really struggling, not with the idea of (that I readily accept, maybe even embrace), but the search for the languages without words.
But thank you, Rose. I see your point, I just can't help but wonder if we're just pointlessly trying to fill a void with our gobbledegook (and as words go, that is an excellent one). I love words, though, and I would never say they're all silly. But to what extent? Do we have the basic ones now? Are they like the primary colors of the spoken languages, and if we mix them up they would suffice and make all the other words?
This is that idea of all things are one thing again...it's become a recurring theme. I think it may be my favorite idea in The Alchemist.
Blog entry number one
There are hundreds of definitions of the word, “language”; it is a word of many meanings, ironic because language itself comes in many forms. It is defined as, “the words” or as “audible, articulate, meaningful sound” and “the use of conversation to articulate” but then, there is this definition:
Language: the suggestion by objects, actions or conditions of associated ideas or feelings.
I would say, pretty good Webster. But I would take it further. Language is more than the suggestion made by objects; it is the suggestion made by objects and the interpretation of those suggestions made by an individual. Those suggestions are meaningless if you don’t look for them. For Santiago, “the path was written in the omens,” but the omens were not necessarily spoken. I think that spoken language hinders our ability to understand the “omens” that we are met with. Santiago did not need to know Arabic when he helped the candy merchant put up his tent. The merchant and the boy “had understood each other perfectly well,” despite the barrier of the spoken language (43).
So what does that make a language? Let me put it this way—if language is not audibly spoken, how is it presented?
Maktub—it is written. Writing, you may ask, how could it be writing if it is not spoken? “It is written” is not a binding statement, nor is it written in stone. It is a matter of the present. The individual is constantly writing and rewriting their future according to what they encounter—according to the “suggestions” made by objects and actions and conditions. By observing and interpreting the language of that which we are surrounded by, we can take the next step in our journey. Our destination, however, is “written” or predetermined, but it is not determined by a god that we do not know, nor is it determined by our parents or teachers. It has nothing to do with anyone else. It is a destination, a Personal Legend determined by the individual, and it is chosen after understanding the language of the world.
Santiago read omens throughout his entire journey. Urim and Thummim fell out of the pouch he held—an omen. He found life in the desert and understood the meaning of the scarab beetle crawling through the sand where he wept. He learned to read the omens and speak the language of the wind and the sun and of god (or God). He used the knowledge that he acquired from them to write his own Personal Legend as well as all of the steps along the way.
It is written. I would like to go to the end of the book.
“The boy reached through to the Soul of the World, and saw that it was a part of the Soul of God. And he saw that the Soul of God was his own soul. And that he, a boy, could perform miracles” (152). I interpreted this passage to mean that, if destiny is written by God, and if the Santiago found that the Soul of God was indeed his own soul, then he wrote his destiny. And this means that we all write our own destinies and Maktub only means that what is written was written by the individual, perhaps with guidance from God, but it was written from the individual’s soul. We all encounter forces which “speak” to us, and if we take the time to understand the desert and to understand ourselves, then we can understand the language of the world, write our own destiny and make the journey.
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