YKWIM & other disasters

The only boundaries on our universe are those we ourselves impose by the application of language. We apply a label to an idea, a thing, a phenomenon – and then we think that we have taken ownership, that we know it in its entirety.

Apples can be things to eat, to draw, to throw, to use as a logo, to philosophize. But one cannot lock apple into a single meaning. Even when it is our intent to eat one, we immediately enter other domains: cooking, measuring, physics, chemistry, allergies, metaphors. Some of these domains may be required in some instance by a particular user; others might be considered incidental by the same user.

And yet.

Most people think they are in control of the language they use, but we are all of us at the mercy of our language.

We designate an object using a word. But the word exists in our mind. The object exists elsewhere. We might form a sensory image of that object using the “input” of all senses; but it is our mind that creates within itself an image of that object, on image that cannot possibly resemble the totality of that object.

Others will also have an image of that object, a word for that object. The word will often be the same word we use; but that person’s mental image of the object may be quite different from our own.

And chances are we will not be aware of those differences.

So what? Does it make any difference to us?

Well, yes. A difference is a difference; and differences often lead to dissent, to confusion, fear. Anger. Danger.

Talk to two people who married for love, if you can find any, and see if they really share the same definition of love. The same definition, right down to the importance of remembering birthdays, or what gift to buy, or the importance of honesty.

What it comes down to is simple. At a certain point in learning language, we give up trying to perfectly define or understand the meaning of something. We believe that others will understand what we mean.

You know what I mean.

Except … you don’t.

Yes, you do understand in a general sense. We have conversations such as:

“You need to be on time for this workshop. We start promptly at 8:00 AM.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

Neither speaker is trying to mislead the other. Both believe they are conveying their intent accurately. But the first speaker means “I want you to arrive by 8 AM.” The second speaker is saying “I will arrive in sufficient time. It will be after 8 AM because I know that no meeting starts on schedule. You needn’t worry.”

This restating I just engaged in does not reflect the conscious thoughts of either speaker. Anyone who speaks the language they have been raised with will be speaking intuitively, attending only to exceptions to what they expect.

“Sometimes a Great Notion” (by Ken Kesey) is a powerful story of brotherhood and love. It is enhanced by Kesey’s use of language. In one scene, the main character chooses to get in a fight. On the surface, it would appear that he is doing this merely in response to a challenge by his opponent. But Kesey shows us that the protagonist is thinking about what his brother, having an interior conversation with his brother in which his objective is that his brother see how to fight, how to choose the risk of the fight. But beneath this, there is a deeper message: I am doing this for you; you are important to me. And there is yet another level, a gut level in which he is thinking in the moment, aware of the pain and responding to the intensity of the moment.

Each of these states is reflected in different fonts and quotation styles. We see the protagonist’s ambivalences – he wants the fight / he doesn’t want the fight; he loves the brother / he’s angry at the brother. Without the author’s writing strategy here, there would be no way to communicate all these different and contradictory emotions. Kesey allows the reader to see what the character intends to communicate better than the character himself knows, nor all the witnesses to the fight.

The movie adapted from the book does not match the depth of the book. Conveying all the nuances of feeling, all the different thoughts at different levels of consciousness could not be done cinematically. It was Kesey’s genius that allowed it to be done on paper.

It is a fallacy to believe that we can ever be precise enough in our communication to avoid any misunderstandings. Even when reading a text instead of hearing what someone else is saying, we can (and often do) misconstrue the intent of the author.

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