Language.

I wonder if there's a point you can reach where you take nothing for granted. It seems like we're always being encouraged to obtain such a mindset. Parents, pastors, the elderly -- all extol you to avoid taking things for granted. Yet I think if I actually tried to realize how much of a gift everything I have is, my mind would explode. The most fitting illustration I can muster is one of a childhood game that John ad I used to play. We'd pile dirt into a mound and then shove a hose into it and turn the water onto a trickle. We would wait for the water to burst from the dirt and rush in with mud to patch up the hole in the mound. Then we'd wait for it to happen again. And again. I feel like I can realize one instance at a time what a gift things are -- after hearing a particularly moving piece of music, I can be truly thankful for the ability to hear. After a delicious dinner I can fully appreciate my sense of taste. After a good night of pedicabbing, a fat wad of cash in my pocket, I can be thankful for my ability to work. but something always creeps up on me without my noticing.

I bring this up because I have realized something new to be thankful for, something I had never previously considered; Language.

I'm taking a conversational Spanish class this semester. Its kicking my butt. Abut 90% of the class is taught in Spanish (and if it weren't for me, the entire thing would be) which means that I understand anywhere from 10% to 11%. My professor, Prof. Miraval, is from somewhere down south (and I'm not talking Alabama... Im talking south of the Equator) so even his English is entrenched in a thick accent. Occasionally he'll switch to English and it'll take me a few moments before I realize that the shift has taken place.

Prof. Miraval's approach is unique. "I do not teach translations -- I teach es-panish" (his words.) It's a really good approach, but unfortunately I have not taken Spanish since high school. He encourages me to listen to Spanish music, watch Spanish TV shows, read the Bible in Spanish, and get my news from the Spanish version of CNN.

In so doing, and I have been astounded with the concept of language. Prof. Miraval took a look at my Spanish Bible (a version from 1909) and said, "thees ees a good version, but nobody e-speaks like dees anymore." This made me realize that Spanish, just like English, has changed over the years. We don't use words like "thou" and "shall" anymore. In retrospect, I don't know why I didn't assume that the same thing happens in other languages, but Prof. Miraval's comment took me completely by surprise. The Spanish spoken today isn't the same they spoke in 1909. Go figure.

I've also been in awe of the complexity of language. It's really an odd thing if you take the time to turn it over. I'm typing into my keyboard and different squiggly lines are appearing on the screen. Your eye sees the squiggles and then your brain connects them with a sound (although no sound is heard, unless you're reading this out loud right now,) and then you recognize the sound patterns and make sense of what is being said. What?!

Also, think for a moment about the different ways you can say something. If you've read 1984, recall for a moment the conversation Winston has with his colleague during the lunch hour at the Ministry of Truth (forgive my lack of page reference, but I don't have the book with me currently.) Winston's 'friend' is working on the newest addition of the Newspeak dictionary and he's most excited about the elimination of synonyms. Newspeak seeks to reduce everything down to a single word. There would be two ways to express something - the affirmative and the negative. You would say something is "clever" or "unclever." That's it. You couldn't label something "witty" or "really clever." It would either be clever or not. All that to provide an example of the beauty of language. It's not merely a tool to be used, but also an art to be mastered. I proof-read someone's half-assed report on the Holy Roman Empire and dryly correct spelling and grammar mistakes, ignoring the lack of creativity and originality, then open a book by Donald Miller or Emily Bronte and revel in their mastery over the English Language.

And I can't help but wonder, sitting in Spanish class staring blankly at Prof. Miraval as he speaks a mile a minute in Spanish, if some day I'll be able to understand Spanish thoroughly enough to write a blog like this in Spanish. I wonder if I'll ever come to a point where I can read an entire Spanish novel and reflect upon the literary devices and underlying motifs the same way I can when I read "1984." It'd be really awesome if I could.


Thanks for reading,

-Daniel K