Tuesday's Rule #5
The importance of words
Sometimes when I hear a rule or an idea, the impact is instant.
The words hit with clarity. Not only does the rule make sense, but the application and where I could be using it to better effect is obvious.
I grab my phone and note it down quickly.
I now know I have the added benefit of being able to write about it for an upcoming Tuesday.
Today's rule is NOT one of those.
Some ideas take longer to percolate.
They might even emerge from something unrelated.
Only when I've tried something, and it has worked, do I realise that a message is hidden within an arbitrary concept I'd heard previously.
Then the rule can be put into words. Then into action.
Today's is more like that. One that I only realised was important and interesting when looking back on something I did organically.
The rule is:
Come up with simple language to explain complex but important ideas.
A quote that has stuck with me without any initial emphasis is:
"The limits of my language mean the limits of my mind. All I know is all I have words for." – Ludwig Wittgenstein.
I don't know where I heard it initially. But it was there, in the back of my mind.
Google it and there is debate about what Wittgenstein genuinely meant by the quote, which originally appeared in a book he wrote in 1922. The book's title is so long and confusing that I was put off trying to read it myself. So I am taking the quote without context, which I'm sure is exactly how any author would like their quotes to be taken…
My elementary take on the quote's meaning is that we can only fathom what we have words for.
If we have a way of explaining something in words, we can understand the meaning.
And if we don't, we can't.
There is a near-endless rabbit hole online about the importance of words.
It goes as deep as the idea that thought itself wouldn't exist without language.
In 1996, Jill Bolte Taylor suffered a stroke. A blood vessel in the left half of her brain popped and that part of her brain shut down.
When she woke up in the hospital a few hours later, she had lost language.
Not the ability to speak. Not her memory. She had lost the concept of language.
As a result, she didn't know her name, address or anything from her past. She was lying there in a totally wordless space.
She described it as an absence of reflection of any kind. When asked about how much of this she thought was about language (after she had recovered, obviously) this is what she said:
"Well, I would say it was huge. Language is ongoing information processing. It's a constant reminder. I am. This is my name, this is all the data related to me. These are my likes and my dislikes, these are my beliefs. I am an individual, I'm a single, I'm a solid, I'm separate from you. This is my name."
All very fascinating, but what does this mean?
Isn’t this all a bit deep to describe a simple life rule?
Let’s assume that language is necessary before being able to comprehend anything. In that case, it's not a leap to say that having simple or memorable language to describe things would make them easier to understand and discuss.
The linguistic relativity hypothesis, also known as the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, posits that the language we use shapes our thinking and knowledge. Therefore, having simple language for complex concepts can make these more accessible and easier to conceptualise for a broader audience.
This is an idea that is very easy to implement.
Last year, my partner spent 6-months in Australia while I stayed home in the UK.
In the last few weeks before she came back, I was so excited to have her home.
I was also acutely aware that we would royally wind each other up in the first few weeks as we readjusted to sharing a house.
In those moments of irritation, as I got irked without reason at her daring to use the bathroom at a particular time, I thought I could use a phrase or a word to remind myself of how happy I was to have her back.
The word itself isn't important (it was a dessert we shared once) but the idea of having a simple, memorable word to repeat to myself, share with her, and laugh at, was far more powerful than going through the entire thought process itself every time.
And so my new rule is: where something is important but doesn't come with an obvious or straightforward descriptor, create one, share it, and see how much easier it becomes.
I wanted to end today’s rule with some related fun.
The German language has fewer words than English, but there are several German words which don't directly translate into an English one. i.e. they explain in one word, what would take several words to explain in English. Scaudenfreude and Wanderlust are two well-known examples.
Here are some of my other favourites:
Sturmfrei
"When your parents are away, and you have the whole house to yourself."
Torschlusspanik
"As one gets older, the fear that time is running out and important opportunities are slipping away."
Handschuhschneeballwerfer
"Glove snowball thrower."
Backpfeifengesicht
"A face that begs to be slapped."
Pantoffelheld
"A man who may act tough in front of his friends but can't stand up for himself against his wife."
I could go on, but I don't want any of you to feel torschlusspanikm, so I’ll see you next week.