Hebrish

In learning a new language, I have come to find that I can communicate in my own language even better. When you understand more ways to express the same thing, the scope of expression in general grows larger. And although I am still not fluent in Hebrew, I can feel myself getting closer and closer, little by little each day. It is incredibly satisfying to understand more. When you break it down, that’s all we ever really want as humans, right? רק להבין —- just to understand.

I have always been a literal person, so it has been especially interesting to see that in Hebrew, the literal translation of most things is not what they actually mean in English. For example, I have been telling people: ״,אני רוצה לדבר שוטף״ which means “I want to speak fluently.” But what is interesting is that the literal definition of “Shotef” is not really fluent. It actually translates to “swiftly, or flowing,” and when I asked Omri to put it in context, he said it is like how you want to be when you mop the floor. Lol. So what I am actually saying when I tell people I want to be fluent is: I want my language to cover the entire landscape, or I don’t want to miss a single spot. Which, for me, actually better captures what I am trying to say, anyway.

There is so much symbolism in Hebrew, and I live for it. There are distinct patterns for how to say anything in singular vs plural, male vs female, or active vs passive forms. The beauty of patterns is their consistency; they can always be replicated. In turn, if you simply learn to understand the pattern, you could really figure out how to say anything you want. All you need is the שורש (root) of the word. For example רכבת (Rakevet) means train, and לרכוב (Lircov), which has the same shoresh (רכב), means to ride. It just makes sense. One more because I love it so much: the Hebrew word for hoarding is לאגור (Le’egor), and the word for hamster is אוגר (Oger), which has the same shoresh (אגר). I used to have a hamster when I was a kid (RIP Hammy), and I always thought it was so cute how she hoarded food in her cheeks.

The more I learn, the more I unearth little details about the language and how its intricately crafted meanings differ from my own native tongue. One Hebrew saying I love is the phrase used to describe the act of paying attention. It is שים לב (Sim Lev), which literally translates to: “put your heart into it.” So when Israelis mean to tell someone to pay attention, what they are really saying is put your dang heart into it. Israelis have no shortage of heart, and it is reflected in everything they do, including how they communicate. Another phrase that caught my attention is קולות מין העבר (Kolot Min Ha’avar), which is sort of like saying “long time no speak,” or “hey stranger,” or whatever you might say to someone you haven’t seen in a while. In Hebrew, the phrase literally translates to “voices from the past.”

Another interesting thing is that there are way fewer words in Hebrew than in English. Because of this, many Hebrew words have not just one, but many definitions depending on the context. One of my personal favorite examples of this is רוח (Ru’ach), which is the word for both spirit and wind. As someone who loves to personify everything, you can imagine how giddy I was when I started thinking about the spirit of the wind. She can get pretty rowdy, that wind. Another example is לספר (Lesaper), which is the verb for both telling a story and cutting hair. Anyone who has gotten a haircut can appreciate this. In reality, telling stories is just part of the ritual of getting a haircut. That’s why people say getting a haircut is like going to therapy, because you just sit in the chair and talk the whole time (shoutout Monica!) How cool that this cultural narrative is depicted just from the word itself. And there are countless more examples of this. The word for rainbow, קשת (Keshet) is the same word for arch. The word for movie or film, סרט (Seret), is also the word for ribbon. I am guessing this is because ribbon-cutting signifies the opening or start of something new and exciting. Something to be celebrated. Like a great film.

These few examples are evidence of how reflective the Hebrew language is of everyday experiences. Its words go a step further than words in English in that they not only assign a symbol for a specific thing, but they also actually describe the experience of this thing. It is fascinating to see how this ancient language so uniquely captures the meaning of communication, of specific phenomenon, and of the actions and activities we find ourselves doing across the backdrop of culture, time and space, and the natural universe. Feeling this sense of awe makes me want to learn another language. Japanese is top of my list. But I digress.

Language is alive, in that it is always growing and changing. I am grateful for the understanding that learning Hebrew has taught me, not just in communication, but in my daily life. It has taught me to be patient with myself, to be persistent, to persevere with my goals, and to know and trust that real results take time. It is not about the destination but the journey itself. So I am taking it day by day. I am listening more, and talking more בעברית. And although sometimes I feel frustrated and left out, this feeling is fleeting. It only motivates me to open my mind even further to the possibilities that could be: I will be fluent. I will not just survive here, I will thrive. The Hebrew word for flower, פרח (Perach), has the same root as the verb that describes taking on the persona of a flower. By this, I of course mean to blossom לפרוח (Liphro’ach). In Israel, you never know what the day will bring. Because of this, every day, I am blossoming anew.

🌸כל יום אני פורחת מחדש🌸