Quelle Langue!
How love is the best way to learn a language
To hear the related 5-minute audio file that I uploaded today as my Morning Journal flash briefing for Alexa devices, please click on the play button:
Embodied Writing en France
This morning I finished a seven-part Embodied Writing practice led by Mirabai Starr. The prompt was “I speak three languages…”
Her introduction to the 20-minute timed exercise stated that writers are like magpies.
We scan the world for glittering baubles others have broken and thrown away, and we scoop them up with our beaks and take them back to our nests where we tinker with them until they become coherent, or at least entertaining.
Among the baubles, she continued, are the people we know. They are boundless sources of material.
“What are your multiple languages?” Mirabai asked. “That is, how do you navigate this difficult world with love?
Good question!
I have been navigating France these past 18 days with four women—Darlene, her sister Deb, and our friends from Maine, Marie and Pam (who took the photo for this post).
Each of them, I realized during the writing practice, is a different language.
When I speak Darlene I come forth in bright colors, empathy, and precise opinions about getting things right.
When I speak Deb I become quiet and listen more than I speak. She reminds me of Alain Delon, the smoldering French film star whose “laconism” was legendary and who died on August 18 at the age of 88.
When I speak Marie, a retired UPS driver, I pay attention to what I’m doing, help others, and drive safely.
When I speak Pam I show gratitude in every breath and see stunning photos at every turn.
I also speak French passably, thanks to six years of study in school and, 19 years ago, a two-month immersion course Darlene and I took at the Institut de Français.
From the outdoor café at the Rothschild Villa yesterday in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, I tried to find the Institute across the bay in Villefranche-sur-Mer. No luck. I didn’t think we had time for a detour to the school on our way back home.
Marie drove our rental car. I watched the CarPlay map and gave her directions, one roundabout and one hairpin turn at a time.
Suddenly my body knew I had been here before. I remembered the high wall Darlene and I walked by to get croissants 19 years ago. Sure enough, Apple’s GPS took us right by the house we lived in and the Institute.
We didn’t have time to stop, and there was no parking. But I loved the coincidence that brought us to the place where my French took a big step forward.
“Quelle langue!” my favorite teacher, Jean, would say several times each class. He showed us how you can say things in French that can’t be said in any other language.
In French there is a word for speaking efficiently, with precision: laconisme.
Another word, entêtement, tickled me when I came across it in Au revoir là-haut, a novel I read by Pierre Lemaitre.
It means stubbornness, obstinacy, or “refusing to change one’s opinion or behavior despite good reasons to do so.” In my world, that’s known as a meltdown, and I try to avoid them when possible.
It helps to learn a language if you love it.
That goes for those we have the privilege of traveling with, too.