A Love for Latin

 Ancient languages fascinate me. Mayan, Latin, Hebrew, Sanskrit etc., they remind us of a time when language itself was pure and unadulterated as compared to our modern inferior tongues. Ancient Latin may not be the oldest in existence, but it is one that I believe stands out from the rest. Unlike its kin that are considered “dead languages”, Latin is in fact still relevant to contemporary culture and language. And let’s just say I have a bias and an affinity for Latin as well (or as my Italian university lecturer would pronounce it: “Lahh-tin”).

I have always had an inclination for learning foreign languages. Until today it intrigues me to understand the connection and relation Western languages have with Latin. Take a look at German, Italian, French, and Spanish etc. and you will find that many words, phrases, and idioms there all find a common origin in Latin vocabulary and grammar. Furthermore, Latin was the language of the early Romans, and in latter years became synonymous with the Catholic religion. Having spent the first 16 years of my life as a Roman Catholic, I suppose this also accounts for my disposition to it. And dare I say now that at least were Catholic mass is concerned, one ought to speak Latin with the proper pronunciation and accent. To me, I really see Latin as the language of God.  

Religion aside, another reason for my love for this language has to do with my early exposure to classical music (and when I say early I do mean early – my mother was listening to this when I was still in her womb). Many pieces of classical music were composed in Latin and I find it mentally stimulating and uplifting listening to a timeless piece of music with lyrics in this ancient tongue. Perhaps this is why I am consistently drawn to a genre of music known as “sacred music” – music performed for religious use or through religious influence. It is in this type of music where my love for Latin, my appreciation for classical music, and my early foundations as a Roman Catholic all culminate together so perfectly.

The truth is that Latin is a dying language, sad to say. It is only used in a niched sector of Catholicism or treated as an academic subject, and music isn’t composed in it anymore. As the mother of all Western languages, let us not forget where our linguistic roots come from. Languages can evolve and tongues can change, but to forget our origins is to be a house without a foundation.

“In principio erat Verbum et verbum erat apud Deum et Deus erat Verbum”

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God: and the Word was God”

Written by Dominic Ang

Of "Time Heals"

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Of “Time Heals”

A brief response to the article “Time Heals”, with time as a healer

(This is a response to an article a friend of mine wrote. You can find it here: http://ohbenning.tumblr.com/post/147118004640/time-heals)

Many of us would find the phrase “time heals” somewhat cliché especially when we almost take its occurrence for granted or expect it to happen like some biological process. Cliché or not, the notion that time heals may be true in the sense that we cannot always be actively experiencing hurtful emotions or be caught in negative situations. Looking back we could see our struggles with “gratefulness and romanticism” and as mere fleeting emotions or whimsical decisions.

Pardon my pessimistic tone; yet call me a hard realist, if you would. But I seem to think that the process of healing with time may not be as grand as the poets and bards would have us believe. Think about it. Would it not be better if we could prevent ourselves from any injury instead of consistently finding cures every time we get hurt? It would appear that the act and art of allowing time to “do its thing” is no more a sign of our terrible frailty and susceptibility to damage in any wind and weather.

If time is indeed a healer, then, just like having to pay for medication from a doctor, healing always comes with a price. For certain the hurts we overcome make us stronger and wiser, but the heavy cost to this is that it makes us brittle over time - we become changed (for better or for worse); our emotions aren’t as pure as they were, and our outlook in life may not be as innocent as it was. We are like sand in the hands of a glassmaker. The more heat you subject us to and a beautiful ornament you shall eventually have. But drop that ornament just once and we shatter into a million irreparable shards.

I suppose a watershed for humankind would be to find that ‘miracle pill’ that erases all painful emotions and memories. Unfortunately there is none, and we must be patient with letting time be our healer. Time is of course necessary since you can’t expect to heal overnight and pretend like nothing happened. This brings something else to mind. Consider the quote from “The Lord of the Rings”: “Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time Aragorn will die”. Well it seems to me that, where healing is concerned, Time itself is nothing more than just a “slow decay” in disguise as a healer. It is a subtle and inevitable process of nature to ensure the certainty of Death.

Let me explain. I believe there to be a metaphysical and existential purpose that links the entities of Time and Death. That purpose is healing! Seems contrary since many would think of healing as a means to avoid death. However, with time as a healer it can only perform its office if there is time for it to do so. When time runs out or is insufficient, how then does healing take place? This is where Death as an instrumental tool of nature steps in. Just as how Time is a “slow decay in disguise as a healer”, Death would inversely be the “ultimate healer in disguise as a plague”. It heals any and every thing once and for all while preventing future harm. And unlike the price we pay with Time, there is none in Death. In fact I daresay Death itself is the miracle pill we’ve been searching for. When the right time comes to surrender ourselves to death’s embrace, then and only then can we finally be healed of all sickness, hurt, and sorrow.

We always wonder what Time and Death are. But perhaps it is more prudent to ask ourselves what these two entities are for. Well, their role is to heal, to bring comfort, and to make us whole. That is their common purpose. I quote, “If you have faith in your heart that time, nature, life coursing through your veins is for you, then you will see the world in a different light”. Most assuredly we ought not to see death and time as opposing forces, but as the work of nature to bring about balance, life, and healing.

We always look for a healer when instead we should be seeking a cure. Well, we have all the Time in the world to find that cure, now don’t we. And when we find ourselves out of time, that is ironically, when we have finally fulfilled our quest.  

This I do say: Time is a healer; Death is the cure.

Further Up and Further In

 On 12 October 2013, I made a day trip to Oxford, UK where I visited "The Kilns" and Holy Trinity Church, which were the home and grave of the author C.S Lewis (1898-1963). Among other works, Lewis wrote my most cherished novel series The Chronicles of Narnia. The themes and characters of these stories have been close to my heart ever since I was young, and to finally visit the home of the author of my favorite books was indeed a milestone in my life. In a certain way, I felt like I was giving back what little I had to the person who had given me such joy and hope through his writings. I think now it is appropriate to transcribe my thoughts on my experience that day since after all, The Kilns was considered a house of writers.
 
The Kilns was indeed a charming cottage, typical of English lifestyle in the countryside away from the hustle and bustle; the kind that just makes you want to sit down and have a cup of tea. While exploring the various rooms of the house, I felt like the Pevensie children when they explored the professor's house in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; curiosity getting the better of you, speculating how big the place was, and just wondering what would appear around the next corner or behind the next door. Short of a magical wardrobe, I would say the Lewis’ home was very reminiscent to the professor’s.
 
As exciting as exploring The Kilns was, the event that had the deepest impact on me was visiting Lewis' grave at Holy Trinity church just fifteen minutes away by foot. The church was tucked away at the end of a narrow cobblestone road, and so one wouldn't end up there if he did not intend to go to this church. I gently pushed opened the squeaky church gate and stepped inside the churchyard (which was in fact a graveyard; not the ones that spook you, but those that make you feel peaceful). I walked slowly and silently among the many tombstones, slowly finding the one of the author of Narnia while seeing who else were laid to rest in that hallowed churchyard. And there, just around a stone wall and resting in the stillness of the trees was Lewis' tombstone - a simple slab of stone with his name engraved upon it with no effigies or elaborate carvings. It was covered in moss and dead leaves and I had to brush them aside to get a proper read of the inscriptions. Strange as it sounds, I did not feel excited having finally visited Lewis' grave. In fact, as I stood over it in silence, my senses began to sharpen and my soul was made quiet, and all I could hear was the wind gently blowing through the trees. "Thank you, sir", I whispered.
 
I don't know how long I spent standing there silently contemplating on Lewis' life and the world of Narnia that he created. But as I left the church heading back to the main city, I began thinking about Narnia and how the adventures and extravagant tales all began on that simple writing desk in that simple house. I wondered how something with this humble beginning could have had such an impact on the world, and on me.
 
What is the source of Narnia? Where is its origin? Is it the books? The Kilns? Lewis' mind? Or a combination of all of these, perhaps. I left that day with a strange feeling. Unlike my adventures at Flock Hill where I felt as if I had departed Narnia, leaving The Kilns was quite the opposite. I did not feel as if I had left Narnia or walked through any magical portal from one realm into another. In fact, I did not even feel as if I had entered Narnia that day. There is only one word to describe how I felt - complete. And in that moment I arrived at a revelation on the true origins of Narnia and the Narnia I had taken into my own personal life.
 
With all the wondrous places I have been to and the good and bad experiences I have had throughout my life that have made me who I am today, I suppose I have been embarking on a personal quest to search for a Narnia of some kind. Certainly it is not a physical Narnia, nor even a metaphorical Narnia or even the Narnia of the books, but that immaterial, metaphysical Narnia - a personal state of being and a level of existence beyond what is already given and seen to me. Now did I find this Narnia at The Kilns, or even at Flock Hill? I daresay I did not. And thank goodness I didn’t for if these places were the true source of Narnia it would seem rather dismal I think. For they would be so easily accessible to anyone and I would surely turn them into places of worship; always running back to them for solace instead of finding strength and peace within myself.
 
So what then is the origin and source of Narnia? In one of my writings titled "What makes Narnia, Narnia?", I came to the conclusion that the essence of Narnia is founded in its people and the experiences that they share as a whole. My experience at The Kilns brought this revelation further onto a personal level. On that day I discovered that this “Narnia” I am searching for is and has always been in me. You see, the stories and characters of the literary Narnia have become so alive and instrumental in my life that they have transcended the realm of words and have assimilated themselves with my entire being, such to the extent that they have become a living manifestation of the true Narnia within myself. One could say that there is a “Narnia” within me, if you would - a purely metaphysical dimension located within my mind and soul - a state of being and an understanding of self. This, I believe, IS the true source of that personal “Narnia” I have been searching for. It is such that Narnia may only exist in the words of a book or in the minds of readers, but where it truly comes alive is on the individual journey of self-discovery, where a person turns inwards toward himself to achieve self-actualization. This is surely the “Narnia” I have been pursuing for the past few years, and my experience at The Kilns has allowed me to better understand the path and direction of my inward journey. And of course, the journey of discovering my own Narnia is never-ending as with the brave characters in The Last Battle. Upon making their way through the stable further into the real Narnia, they discover that “the further up and the further in you go, the bigger everything gets. The inside is larger than the outside”. And why shouldn't this be the case? For we may be finite beings limited in physical size, but inside of us there is an entire universe of thought, emotion, memory, and hope. We are truly bigger in the inside than we are outside.

As a deep thinker and as a person who believes in the instrumental power of stories and tales, I have always tried to apply the morals and truths behind these stories to my personal life in order to come to a better understanding of my place in this world. Though I am far from my goal, I believe that Lewis’ works on Narnia are the key and framework in which to pursue this quest (in fact I may say that Lewis himself has already accomplished this). Visiting the Narnia filming sites at Flock Hill at one end of the world has allowed me to understand that the essence of Narnia is found in the people with whom I interact with and the experiences I share with them. And now after visiting The Kilns and Holy Trinity Church at the other end of the world, it has come to my understanding that the journey to my Narnia is a simple matter of turning inwards to oneself. Perhaps this is why I felt complete upon leaving The Kilns. I did not need a wardrobe door or an enchanted painting to enter Narnia since I already possessed the magical portal – I only needed to look within myself to find my Narnia that is “further up and further in”. Aslan called the children out of this world into another – it was an outward journey. But at The Last Battle, Aslan called the children into Narnia within Narnia, where each one was more beautiful than the last - it was an inward journey. “I see, [Lucy] said. This is still Narnia, and more real and more beautiful than the Narnia down below, just as it was more real and more beautiful than the Narnia outside the stable door! I see … world within world, Narnia within Narnia…”.