I’ve fallen in love with so many Greek words, mostly because of their relation to English, which always demystifies English and takes it down a peg. Learning Greek and Latin has demystified most of my native tongue.
Take the Magna Carta, the early English document that, at least in theory, granted sovereign rights to humans (read: wealthy men) as subjects under the state, like the right to bodily autonomy. What’s it mean in Latin? “The big paper.”
“The Magna Carta” sounds etherial, powerful, mysterious. “The big paper” sounds like something you’d teach a first grader.
Without Greek and Latin, English would sound much less serious. What we think of as profound is never quite so enlightening in the original. Here’s the best example:
Strolling through the pharmacy today and browsing the aisles, I found my absolute favorite Greek word of all—καθαρτικό (kathartico) which, without looking up the etymology, is obviously the basis for the English word “catharsis” (probably through Latin, judging by the spelling).
A cathartic process is one pushes out all the uncomfortable emotions within us—it gets out the sadness, heartbreak, disappointment, and ugliness by channeling it all into a specific medium. It’s the realm of artists and poets, the human process that creates brilliant and beautiful works that we all enjoy.
When a writer or painter lets loose all the demons that dwell inside of them, funneling those discomforts into a work of art, that’s catharsis. It’s downright majestic.
But what does it mean in Greek?
Laxative.
Yep. That’s right. All of the rich, splendid beauty and raw human spirit poured out onto the various canvases of our artistic and personal projects through “catharsis” in English is actually just uncomfortably pushing out an unsettling stream of liquid shit in Greek.
So the next time an English-speaker tells you they’re doing something cathartic, you can politely let them know that the word doesn’t quite mean what they think it means.