The Matter of Words: Apples and Other Sticky Symbols

I’m no linguist, but I’m gonna take a shot at a complication I notice with the English language.

I won’t bore you with an essay on semiotics (although I find it interesting) but we need to set up some stipulations around words before going forward. For the sake of this discussion let’s assume that words are signs that signify objects and ideas in the world, rather than words being actual “things” themselves.

Here’s what I mean …

If I say the word apple, in your mind, you recall an image of whatever you believe the word apple signifies. You might envision a red apple, a green apple … see it in a bowl, or on a tree … some may even see an Apple computer. The word “apple” can signify any version of the things we consider APPLE until we agree that between us the word “apple” signifies a red delicious fruit. (Even then it leaves out the specifics / smell / flavor / and memories of an apple)

Basically …

Words don’t mean much until we communally agree to their meaning. 

That’s why each language has its own word for the proverbial apple: manzana / apfel / pomme / tufaha / etc.. 

So, words themselves don’t mean something until we all agree they mean some THING.

Likewise, language is also a reflection of the culture it’s birthed from. 

Some languages don’t use past tense. Other languages don’t utilize plural form, or possessive form. The choice is a reflection of the cultural values that created the language. In very cold climates there may be several words for “snow” describing different types of flakes and flurries, while in other climates there are words to distinguish differentiations in rain, or light, or sand, or volcanic flow. Words describe communal cultural experiences and values, and our cultural experiences necessitate the creation and utilization of community specific words. 

Here’s the glitch:

The English language doesn’t well communicate transient states. 

I know, right?

For example: In Spanish there are two verbs to signify “I am” - Ser & Estar. Ser signifies permanent states (as in, I am tall) while estar is more transient (I am tired, right now). The words create an explicit understanding between the sender and the receiver of the communication that we are either discussing something permanent or a transient state of being - I am tired right now, but I know I won’t be tired at some point vs. I am tall, have been and will also be tall tomorrow. 

English (and by association those of using English to communicate) does not hold space for the same transiency. We can communicate similar sentiments, it just requires more words. It’s not built in, nor culturally valuable to express something in its “just passing through” state. Saying my shoulder hurts, is not the same as saying “my shoulder hurts right now, but it doesn’t always hurt.” 

Why this feels so important is because verbal communication is not just happening interpersonally … it’s also happening intra-personally. We self-talk all the time. How many internal conversations did you have with yourself as you read this blog? Words matter not just between US, but also inside YOU.

Obviously this is a blog, and not a thesis (ideas need maturation) … I simply want to get you considering.

By design, the English language is just not set up to signify states of being that we know (or at least hope) will one day (soon) come to pass. Unfortunately, there’s a stickiness when we apply permanent qualities to transient occurrences. So, why do we keep attaching permanent feeling words to impermanent sensations?

Mostly it’s because we (culturally) aren’t interested in (nor taught how to) get curious about things we notice / sense / feel inside and outside our body. We intake quick qualifications, organize the experience and attribute a word (that probably inaccurately describes the experience), and then hastily react (rather than listening then choosing to respond accordingly), most often actively avoiding or trying to permanently fix the experience.

When we rely on words to define personal experiences (especially sensations) we limit the experience to that of mass culture. Because we appreciate the word over the occurrence, the carrion of an ordeal may linger long after the sensation has fluctuated. 

In short - we got stuck on the word itself. Most likely a word that never fully expressed the individual experience, but more aptly represented what culture has deemed valuable (or important) for you to notice about your experience.

I’m not saying words aren’t great - I love them! I’m just aware they are frequently shorthand for complex experiences, and limited (by design) to what generic cultures find relevant.

What I am saying is that you are more valuable than shorthand no matter how eloquent a word sounds, and I’m advocating for you to be present for experiences wholly without the need to generalize or label. If you need a guide … some support … well, that’s literally my job … to help you shift your matter … and your words.

HOMEWORK: This week when a word comes up … examine it. The word may be I’m stressed. I have a knee problem. That’s my bad or good side. It may show up at home - my partner is unsupportive. My kid is a pain. I have insomnia. In the office - So & so is annoying. I’m overwhelmed. My anxiety! Stop yourself for a moment and ask: Where did this word come from? How does it feel in my body? Is there a physical sensation that is coupled with the word? (e.g., Is it stress? Or is it a feeling in my shoulders that I call stress?) Then just re-define the experience. Rather than a word, can you just let the feeling be a feeling? Knowing that experience soon will come to pass, and its presence has valuable (not to be missed) information within it.

~ james CRADER