Walking on Water, 2
Or, on Language, Precision and Offerings
What is the place of precision versus emotion? How can we balance them?
As I mentioned in my first entry here, I am a professional historian who works with many languages. In my everyday consciousness, I am pedantic about such matters, taking great pride in my fastidiousness, which is a requirement in my work and a signal of professionalism. I obsess over the smallest details of imprecision.
This extends into all aspects of my life, even deplorably so. I cannot fully enjoy recordings of Gaelic/Irish songs, no matter how beautiful, if the initial aspirated voiceless stops (particularly the “t”) are too noticeable, as is often the case with native English speakers when they sing in Gaelic or Spanish. I grumble when a German pronounces the name of the Catalan capital city as “Bartselona.” I shudder when pseudo-Erasmian pronunciations neither true to ancient nor to modern Greek, or to any stage of Egyptian, are suggested for the goddesses Ἑκάτη and sḫmt, respectively. Imprecision in those matters often causes me to stop reading even those authors who seem to have a lot more experience with magic or energy work than I do.
I usually believe I am right in this approach, and that people who are serious about these topics should at least inform themselves on historically correct pronunciations before suggesting to others how to pronounce those names. We hear so many times lip service from those same people about the crucial importance of words in ḥkꜣw and in mantras. And yet, and yet…completely wrong pronunciations, for instance those still based on Budge’s reconstructions, also seem to produce results, at least for some people. Why would that be?
At this point I suggest you re-read the story of the Sufi who walked on water. I certainly will.
Get Refugee Scholar, PhD’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
What is the lesson here? Something deceptively simple. Whether you are overtly or covertly a scholar of your magical or devotional path, do strive to be informed about the historically and culturally correct pronunciation. It is easier than ever to learn about correct pronunciation through sound recordings on the Internet. Check the IPA alphabet. Wikipedia is actually reliable here.
Even after all this, it is possible that you cannot pronounce a rolled r, or the voiceless velar fricative /x/, which often happens with English speakers (and I will probably devote a separate post to that sound and its avoidance in English, because it is relevant to Kemetics, Hellenic, Heathen and especially Celtic paths). Well then — you can still enjoy listening to the authentic sounds and perhaps present such recordings as an offering.
It is possible to exaggerate the importance of precision to the detriment of all other qualities, just as it possible to be willingly ignorant of a historically correct practice. Both of those instances pander to our individual weaknesses and represent an internal imbalance.
Let us also admit that these are syncretistic times even for the most fanatically reconstructionist ones among us. It cannot be otherwise.
In the end, informed devotion, always infused with a dose of humour and humility, is the best recipe for pleasing both yourself and Those Whom you serve, or with Whom you work (another thorny distinction which I might tackle!).
In many ways, this path resembles that of a classically trained musician who can play any of the old masters, yet decides to focus on free jazz or atonal composition — constructing and reconstructing the form intelligently to create something new. That is what Picasso did as well.
And, in case you missed the hint, my kind readers, this post isn’t just about precision or about language, it is ultimately about the virtues of humility, sincerity and kindness in one’s offerings, be they directed toward humans, Others, or the Self, and whether they are physical or immaterial. If you happen to be a Christian of any stripe reading this, do remember the lessons of Luke 21:1–4, especially in these days when many dare to assume the mantle of the humble Jewish carpenter Yēšūă‘ in order to revile the poor (including single mothers) and the refugees in the same breath.
Until next time…
