The Music of Language

In a recent Someone To Tell It To podcast conversation, Dr. Ingrid Nordli, of Norway, spoke with us about the music of language. She shared how language has its own rhythms, melodies, harmonies, tones, and cadences that, if we recognize and listen intently to those speaking them, we can open up our world for greater understanding. While spoken language is generally not literally music in the traditional sense of our understanding, when what is conveyed is listened to in a deeper way - with all of our senses - it will offer a richer context and shine a brighter, warmer light on a person’s feelings, passions, needs, hopes, and intents. 

When we listen - notice - with enough intentionality - with ears, eyes, minds, and spirits open to language’s complex nuances and inflections, we open up a space for us to have greater understanding and deeper emotional connections with those around us, even with those who are very different from us. 

Dr. Nordli’s expertise primarily focuses on how children communicate and how we can communicate better with them. Children are not often listened to very well, she asserts. We usually admonish them to “listen up” to us. But we do not often actually and carefully listen to them. But when we resolve to see children as being smarter than we often think they are, we set the stage for relationships that are more open and trusting, and more deeply connected between the generations. In the famous Stephen Sondheim song from the musical, Into the Woods:

“Careful the things you say,
children will listen.
Careful the things you do,
children will see and learn.
Children may not obey, but children will listen.
Children will look to you for which way to turn,
to learn what to be.
Careful before you say ‘Listen to me’.
Children will listen.”

Just as many of us, though, are not adept at fluently reading actual music - even when we enjoy its sounds - we are also not adept at fluently noticing and listening to the music that language conveys to us. 

I’ve had more than 35 years of listening to and trying to read the music that my son Matthew conveys to me. Living with profound intellectual disability and autism, Matthew has never spoken a word in his life. Intellectually, he has been classified as being between an 18-month- and a two-year-old. Yet, he communicates very strongly, especially when we work to pay close attention to what he’s trying to convey to us. 

I recently had a conversation with a friend who knows Matthew. When answering some questions about how Matthew is doing and what it’s like to be his parent, I indicated that Matthew is very opinionated. My friend’s brow furrowed at that, and he responded;

“But he can’t talk. How is he opinionated?”

“Oh”, I answered, "he communicates very passionately and strongly when there’s something he wants or needs or doesn’t like. It’s just without actual words.” 

In fact, he has his own genre of the music of language or communication. It’s quite unique to him. Getting a read on it has never been very easy. But understanding that he has strong likes and dislikes and wants and needs is very easy to do.

If we would compare the music of Matthew’s language or communication to a genre of music, it wouldn’t be classical, pop, gospel, show tunes, or rap. I might describe it (loosely) something in the vicinity of freeform jazz, with its characteristic rhythm patterns, complex harmonies, a focus on improvisation, and the unique syncopated rhythms that emphasize off-beats. Definitely, off-beats. He creates his own very expressive and distinctive "sound". 

His micro gestures - quick glances, body shifts, and hand movements  - and sounds - grunts, clapping, growling, gnashing of his teeth, as well as excited squeals, laughter, a purring-like noise - are all indicators, too, that he is happy, impatient, angry, or anticipatory. We are certainly not fluent in reading his music. So many times all we can do is guess. Many, many times, we have to observe very closely to even come close to determining what he wants. 

Sometimes, though, it’s not hard at all. When he opens the refrigerator and grabs a handful of individually-wrapped American cheese slices, we know he’s hungry. That’s an easy one. When he knocks over one of our dining room chairs, we know he wants our attention, but we’re not always certain for what. When he bangs his head on a hard surface, we know he’s either frustrated or just needs some special stimulation that is typical for those living with autism. When he howls with laughter at random times, we know that he’s, well, very happy. We don’t always know about what. But we know he’s feeling good in those moments - and we celebrate them. 

After decades of listening to the music of his language, trying to decipher their meaning, I've learned to notice, really notice, to see into the sounds, the rhythms, the beats that are different from anyone I’ve ever known. He has helped me to hear beneath the surface and beyond, to seek an understanding of a mind that is unique in infinite and mysterious ways. He teaches me to listen, not just to him, but in turn to everyone else around me in ways that go beyond the ordinary and create connections that cannot be quantified or easily described. Connections that are deep and intimate and which enable me to see the beauty, the poetry, and the wonder of human spirits and souls. Those connections that can only cause us to value and appreciate the incredibly magnificent richness and diversity of the human condition - and to enable me to see others as sacred, and deserving of dignity and my kindness, respect, and love.