A few weeks back, I wrote about what I called the music of meaning–what makes writing memorable and moving.
(If you didn’t have a chance to look at it then, or have recently joined this newsletter, you can read what I wrote on my website.)
There I spoke about the musical aspects of poetry and how they help our hearts and minds to come together in harmony when we listen or speak.
Prosody
Since writing that piece, I learned something wonderful about the word prosody, the technical term for the music that a line of poetry can make.
The word comes to us from Greek and is commonly understood as referring to the patterns of rhythm and sound used in poetry, particularly metrical poetry. In a talk by the musician Ioannis Stratakis, who records beautiful audiobooks of Ancient Greek masterpieces, Ioannis quotes the ancient Greek grammarian Theodosius of Alexandria who says that prosody is that which brings our words to fit, be consonant with, or sing in tune with the deeper meaning of whatever it is we are trying to say.
This is a beautiful way of saying what I too have been attempting to say.
Theodosius of Alexandria’s exploration of prosody.
Singing What We Know
But then Theodosius goes on to say something even more interesting. He delves into the history of the word prosody, pointing out that it derives from a word that can mean, simultaneously, “I know something very well” and “I sing.”
The astonishing implication is that when we know something well, we naturally speak about it in ways that are like singing, with the voice rising and falling in rhythmic patterns akin to music.
Bringing the Music Home
For instance, think of the voice of someone you love saying something that has stayed with you–something meaningful or surprising or moving. As you hear that in your mind, notice how much of its meaning comes from the very way the words are said–the specific sound of this beloved one’s voice.
That can give you another clue to what a great poet seeks to capture in a poem, or what you yourself may express naturally and effortlessly when you speak of what you know well from your heart.
This is what I call natural eloquence. It’s part of our birthright, no matter what language or languages we grew up speaking or where in the world we happen to live.
When we speak what is true with passion and care, we can’t help but make music with our voices.
What is your own experience with natural eloquence? Have you experienced it in others or yourself?
If you have a chance, send me a note. I’ll love to hear about it!
Work With Me One-On-One
I have just a few more openings this spring for people who may wish to work with me one-on-one on a creative project, the Tamil language, or a literary or philosophical exploration, through either a series of personalized sessions or a single in-depth exploration.
I cherish this way of teaching immensely, particularly because it allows me to help others discover their own forms of natural eloquence. If you are at all intrigued, take a peek here: thomaspruiksma.com/work-with-me/.
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