Photo © Kaitlynn Copithorne
When we think of ‘magic’ or ‘magic tricks’, the archetypal image of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat after saying the all-important magic word usually springs to mind, and when it comes to magical lexis, ‘Abracadabra’ tops the list. Anyone who is familiar with the rabbit-being-pulled-from-the-hat trick is aware that the rabbit cannot appear unless the magic word has been spoken. This is the contract that is made; that on uttering this magic word, the magician will be in possession of a supernatural power allowing them to manifest a creature out of thin air.
For a long time, I believed that this magic word had no distinct meaning outside of performance magic, however, although the word itself is of unknown origin, within Hebrew etymology, ‘Abracadabra’ translates to ‘I will create as I speak’ and in Aramaic to, ‘I create like the word.’ Both of these definitions place an emphasis on the relationship between spoken word and manifestation. Like a rabbit out of a hat, for example.
Words having the power of manifestation can be found in ancient texts. In the third verse of Genesis in the King James Bible, Earth is described of as a dark void without life of form, and then “…God said, Let there be light: and there was light.” In this translation it is interesting that emphasis is put on God speaking His commandment rather than willing or intending the light into being. God speaks the light into being.
Words as a driving force of creation is echoed in the Hebrew folktale of the Golem; a figure moulded from clay, inanimate until three Hebrew letters are inscribed onto its forehead, giving his creator influence over the Golem’s will. Whilst there is no word involved, written letters being a password of sorts makes an interesting comparison.
When looking at the nature of prayer within some organised religions, there is a shared practice in the recitation of are specific words in a specific order, often deriving from verses within sacred texts. Occultist and controversial figure, Aleister Crowley, referred to as ‘the most wicked man in the world’ founded his own belief system described by scholars as a “magico-religious movement”. Whilst Crowley himself rejected the definition of ‘Satanism’, he was strongly influenced by it as well as by a variety of ancient and contemporary religions ranging from ancient Egyptian practices to Kabbala and Islamic mysticism. In his book Magick in Theory and Practice, Crowley states that members of his movement, “…are well aware of a Word whose analysis contains all truth…a word indeed potent for any which dares to use it.” Within his practices, Crowley instructs his followers to call on the names of deities as a means of manifesting their will.
In the Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, the journey of the god Osiris into the Underworld contains many challenges in which Osiris must name things, from the parts of the boat he is conveyed in, to the names of other deities. It is in giving the correct names that he is able to proceed. This puts in mind tales such as Rumpelstiltskin in which the eponymous villain devises a challenge where he can only be beaten if his name is correctly guessed. Also, of the famous phrase, ‘Open Sesame’ originating from the tale of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. When this magical incantation is spoken before the mouth of a closed cave concealing treasures within, the rocks part allowing the speaker to gain entry.
The idea of words and language having the capacity to affect our relationship with the material world is fascinating given that there are over 7000 languages spoken globally. The idea that the language affects the way we experience the external world will be familiar to students of linguistics who encounter the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis. Edward Sapir had ideas in the 1920s about the relationship between speech and thoughts which were later developed by his student Benjamin Lee Whorf to form a hypothesis which proposes that the way we speak influences the way we think and view the world, as well as the way that we behave.
Some of the most profound studies that explore that hypothesis involves the way that speakers of different languages perceive colours differently. Considering we all view the world using the same sight-giving organs and live in a world with the same spectrum of colour, it would be a fair assumption that we all perceive colour in the same way. Studies conducted in 1999 and 2005 suggest a link between language and the way we think about the world. Both the Himba people of Namibia and the Berinmo of Papua New Guinea were better than English-speaking participants at remembering colours that in English fall between green and blue because they have a colour (burou in Himba and nol in Berinmo) that falls into this category; in English, they could be considered either greenish blue, or bluish green, and this lack of consensus lowered the accuracy when tested for remembering colours. On the other hand, the Berinmo and Himba had a harder time recalling shades that Native English speakers more confidently described as green or blue, but were on the verge of being a different colour in their own languages. If, for instance, you are a designer, you might distinguish hot pink and salmon because this exists in your lexicon while for someone else they are both just pink. We recognise by name that which we have a name for.
It has also been theorised that it is not language that determines the world, but the world that determines language. We have names for colours, objects, situations, and feelings that are relevant to our lives. Speakers of Portuguese use the word saudade for the feeling of longing and melancholy for someone or something that is missing, but the fact that English lacks such word doesn’t mean that they don’t ever have this feeling; it’s just perhaps more salient, easier to identify. The question of which begets the other is still one of our greatest mysteries.
As well as there being a connection between the words we use and the exterior world, language is key to making sense of the interior world. From personal experience, I understand the profound effects of using my words, both written and spoken, to articulate trauma in order to make sense of it and reclaim power over it. Speaking to Clinical Psychologist Dr Sabinah Janally she explains how key the role of language is within a number of therapy models, from “compassion focussed therapy, cognitive analytical therapy, and narrative therapy…Verbal and non-verbal language is important and key for many forms of therapy.” Going into more detail on the role of language, Dr Janally says that “with our clients, therapists aim to remain curious, exploring the client's use of words. By adopting a position of curiosity, a therapist is able to foster therapeutic relationships that increase trust and mutual positive regard. These factors are important to help a client feel able to share and express their inner thoughts, experiences and perceived reality … Often in these situations, the clients themselves learn the meaning of their narrative or the words that have become part of them; their identity. Words possess the power to crush or transform one’s sense of self and perceived reality.”
The potency of the language we use, the words we are in possession of; the words we choose to narrate our experiences with; the words we use to condemn with the; that we uplift and empower with, these words have a profound effect on the way that we and those around us navigate the world. Whether it be fairy-tales, religion or the fields of therapy and linguistics, or in the simple pleasure of picking up a book and being transported to a land and time far removed from our own experiences, there is wonder to be found in the words we have.
In the words of Albus Dumbledore, "Words are, in my not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.”