|Mountains, Emil Nolde|
In which we discover that Dickens was Aquarian - how's that for synchronicity? I honestly didn't know.
Anyway, Mercury. Is still being squared by Saturn. And I was going to say I'll have to wing it, because I can't think of anything to say, but the fact is that actually I'm just not able to pour forth my thoughts in the usual way. What seems to be required is that I slow down, order my thoughts, consider the ideas and form them into a cohesive pattern. And this process is alien to my thinking nature.
So. Here goes. I'm still going to wing it, after a fashion.
What is the purpose of language?
Perhaps we should start by examining what language actually is. A form of communication. A method of expression. Communicating what, expressing what? Feelings, thoughts, notions? And where do these things arise? From inside of us, or from somewhere outside? Do these thoughts and feelings belong to us, or do they appear elsewhere and just pass through us, the human, on their way?
And what is the method of expression? Words, music, painting, sculpture, dance, theatre. If all art is expression, then is all art language? Is nature then a language? If so, what is it expressing? What is it telling us?
I came across an idea once that language is a 'land-gauge'. A gauge of the land from which it arises, the frequency of that land. Which explains the multitude of languages, accents within a particular language, and indigenous music and art. That before people put shoes on their feet, shoes with rubber soles, they were conductors of the energies of their land, singing the music of their soul's arising. And as modern life has taken us further away from our natural sources, our song has become ever more simple, dull and uninspired. Mechanical and functional. IMO. YMMV.
And I think about languages with a form my brain doesn't recognise. Chinese, say. I listen and it sounds like music, because my mind is not able to decode it in any other way. When I lived in Wales, I used to listen to the Welsh language radio station and just experience the rhythms, cadences and tones. And what they said to me about the nature of the welsh essence. There is something underlying the words themselves that itself speaks volumes. A right brain decoding, perhaps, rather than a left brain understanding.
But what seems to tie these notions back to the complexity and beauty of the words used by Dickens, is speed. The faster life moves, the faster humans run through their lives, the less time and space there is for listening to and creating beautiful speech. There is a stillness required in the mind and soul to be able to receive and form.
And that, that stillness is a quality of Saturn. And now I see why so many of the people I know who write beautiful words, whose expression is poetic whether they are writing a poem or an email, have Mercury in aspect to Saturn. Mercury is quicksilver, and Saturn the container that holds and stills its reflective beauty.
A wing, and a prayer :)