Word Magic
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Aleister Crowley
My enjoyment of the English language is rooted in my love of storytelling and the magical power of words. I mean “magic” nearly literally. Taking a definition from Magick, Book 4, by the exceedingly eccentric Aleister Crowley, magic is the “science and art of causing change” through the “incantations” that are sentences. Crowley argued that magic exists in symbols that are commonplace precisely because of their magical power. Unlike Crowley, I will stop short of believing this is an explanation of how the world actually works. Instead, his description articulates the power of language in a way that would be echoed by linguists and rhetoricians over the century that followed, as modernism and postmodernism spread.
Like Crowley’s description of magic, language depends upon a complex system of symbols, which in an oral tradition are truly pulled out of the air. And these symbols are powerful. Words have the power to change people’s deepest beliefs. The words used by practiced sorcerers are laden with significance and rarely chosen by accident; they are selected to elicit particular reactions. Words can conjure any emotion, from love to hatred. Words can change the course of history, bring about peace and war alike. But the best part about this magic is that no one sorcerer or cabal hoards these secrets. It is not the esoteric magic of Crowley. Any speaker of a language can wield this power. Working word magic can be a tricky art: both apprentice and master sorcerers can mishandle their words and have their spells fizzle or backfire. Unlocking the power of these symbols can take years of practice before they might be used to their maximum potential, but we’re all innate spell casters. Even the babbling of infants is an experiment in just how far the power of language can take them.
My favorite form of word magic is storytelling, but I do not define “storytelling” narrowly. Kenneth Burke claimed that all language is argumentation because it is purpose-driven. I break with Burke slightly to say that all language is storytelling. Perhaps that story is fictional, set in a far-off world. Or perhaps that story is a serious, down-to-earth argument about a particular policy change. Both of these stories are populated by characters, both have something important at stake, and in both the author wishes the audience to be moved, emotionally or otherwise. All uses of language intend to let us experience something new: to gain glimpses of lives that are not our own, whether they are delivered as pure narratives or dressed up in rhetorical clothing. The best of these stories enchant us, and our language’s use of the word “enchant” in this context is no coincidence. As we are naturally born users of word magic, we also love to be overtaken by just the right spell.
Or, if I had to put my enjoyment of the English language more succinctly, I would say I enjoy it because it allows me to write pieces like this one. I was able to build an extended metaphor and enjoyed doing so. Maybe I was even able to bewitch you for a few moments with my story, across time and space.
Note: This post was originally submitted to Colorado State University as part of applying for the James J. Garvey Graduate English Language Scholarship
