Words. I received a text last night from the person closest to me, and the one who inspires my thinking in ways no one else can. This text threw my perspective into a realm of new understanding. She said, in summary,that we should not use words to compartmentalize experiences. Our words, when used to identify an event, or relay our feelings or impressions on any given topic, infer that the person to whom they are being shared will be on the same level of understanding. Additionally, time and context can alter the same message. Perspectives change. Understanding changes. People change.
Even with this person, our most frustrating times are when we are saying the same thing, but in different ways. She and I get stuck arguing why the other doesn't understand. The effort to convince the other of our position becomes almost comical at times, because ultimately, we say our point louder, but not different. And different is what is required. Because I am not her. And she is not me. And we are not the same. So how we express what we see or feel is individualized, although often parallel.
When I read this text, I got excited! I thought, for nearly 44 years, it has been so difficult for me when people don't "get it." I suddenly realized that the "it" in and of itself is the problem. The "it" is a mirror through which we can't see another's reflection. "It" lies stagnant, in place, without anything kinetic to move toward greater understanding. On dictionary. com, there are 17 explanations for the word "it." There is not an actual defnition. The word is an indicator of varying degrees. As a stand-alone, "it" amounts to nothing specific. Thus, I have wanted people to "get" something abstract, which of course means subject to interpretation. Otherwise translated, I would be frustrated people don't "get what I am saying or doing." This is specific. This is me trying to figure out why my way of being in the world doesn't connect to someone else. This is a very narcissistic and isolated stand. If I am not able to look outside myself to determine how to help someone "get" me, then I should not be surprised when I am not understood. Hmm.
Words give meaning, create labels, allow us to communicate. There is an inherent, unspoken truth about words. Our belief is that how we think, how we speak, is all the same. But the reality is that each of us, in our own life experiences and language, create a method of interpreting events that can be vastly different. In fact, the intepretation has so little to do with the words. Consider the number of definitions for "love," or "happiness." What is "success?" These words are understood in some context by most people. Even within the US states, words exist that cannot be translated into English. For example, in Hawaiian, Pana Poʻo: "You know when you forget where you've put the keys, and you scratch your head because it somehow seems to help your remember? This is the word for it." Friedrich Nietzsche said, "Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon the absolute truth.” This may be the result of cultural influences, language spoken, geographic location, coping and defense skills, or a million other nuanced reasons. So why do we assume (such a dangerous word) that our spoken word deserves to be unquestionably understood by anyone in the way we intend?
Evolving perspective, as well as cultural and place-in-time influences. Words are the meaning we give them. I have come to conclude that I give words entirely too much power. I have used words to impress, to imply a higher level of intelligence, to defer or distract, to manipulate and control. I have used words to comfort, to encourage, to support, and to love. In the end, the power of words ended as they exited my lips. What transpires as a result of or after the words is the true power. Words are but inert action. Without activating the intent of words, without generating the energy to move them into existence, we are but a book without a reader. No action comes from words, yet they can be overtly harmful in their intent. I have learned a lot of lessons over the years regarding how I say something. I have learned also that saying nothing has immense power. Silence itself can be action, even more powerful than words. And in that silence, I can build myself or destroy someone. Silence is a weapon. Silence is also a sanctuary. I have learned to utilize my silence to heal. I have created damage by misusing silence. Today, I accept accountability for all that my words have created, for what they have influenced, and for how I have failed them. I alone am responsible for my words, and the actions that make them breathe. That's a heavy reality, but one I accept.
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