I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about words.
Not as a formal study, but as playful explorimentation. At random moments, my brain seems to naturally re-examine words I’ve spoken since I was a little kid.
I’ll try to guess their etymology and see if I was right. I’ll compare subtle differences in meaning between supposedly direct translations or pure synonyms (2 things which rarely exist).
I’ll notice how a certain word feels in my mouth and how that can sometimes even change the meaning.
There are endless angles to explore them from. Because words carry so much more than just the meaning ascribed to them by their dictionary definition:
- Current contexts (relational, physical, cultural, temporal)
- Speaker’s interpretation of (or relation to) the word
- Listener’s interpretation of (or relation to) the word
- Class signifiers embedded in the language (such as when using “expensive words” or street slang)
- Speaker’s intention
- Listener’s intention
- Subtext
- Any implied narratives that got smuggled in
- Speaker’s energy and tone
- Listener’s assumptions
The list goes on and on. Each of these change the meaning of the message (intentionally or not).
And the more of these you can attune to, the clearer the channel of communication.
(Practical side note: I often find it useful when interpreting someone’s words negatively to assume I’m mistranslating and have a conversation in which we clarify and align some of the above together.)
But of course, it all starts with the way we coordinate our understanding of words:
Definitions.
Definitions are used to point out distinctions between concepts by defining their boundaries:
[ word ] refers to the part of reality that’s [ this ] but not [ that ].
Reality itself is boundless.
But words and their definitions create a way for us to slice it in bite-sized pieces when communicating about it.
Just like personalities, the definition of words function as a configuration of gates that act as a filter for reality:
Functionally, a word’s definition says:
[ this part of reality ] is what’s allowed to pass through me as I speak [ word ]. [ that part of reality ] is what its gates keep out.
You may have noticed I’m using the phrase “pass through me”, rather than something more passive, such as “be referred to”.
Why did I use those words?
(Yes, this is where I’m doing the exact thing I’m writing about, lol.)
I used words “pass through me” because interestingly, the gates in a word’s definition aren’t just for filtering conceptual meaning, they also filter for which energy or intention can be invoked with the words you’re speaking.
For example:
“May you find peace” is a beautiful blessing when spoken with loving intention.
It’s also possible to speak it with a judging or condescending energy.
Why?
Because the gate in the word “find” allows that energy to pass:
“Find” can imply something is lost or lacking. So it’s totally possible to say “may you find peace” and energetically communicate “I disdain the way you behave. Which clearly arises from a lack of peace. Which I do have, therefore I’m superior. But I’m annoyed by you. So go away and become peaceful that you no longer disturb me.”
(Which, by the way, is a moment of pure resonance with peacelessness happening in the speaker. But that’s beyond the topic of this post.)
Now let’s contrast this with another, somewhat similar blessing:
“Peace be with you”.
I can’t speak for you. But if I try to practice saying both phrases twice—once with love in my heart and once with spite—I can perfectly succeed at that with the words “May you find peace”.
Yet, it’s nearly impossible for me to say “Peace be with you” and feel genuine spite inside me.
The moment I speak it, I feel calmer and more loving. Every word in the phrase is love-gated. Its definitions and the way they work together protect the phrase from me speaking it with a spiteful intention.
(I encourage you to try this yourself and see it replicates.)
As I mentioned at the start, words can carry many different layers of meaning, depending on many different elements that interact with them. But how much meaning they ultimately can contain all depends on the borders and gates of their definition. That’s what determines it.
You can’t smuggle in any meaning the word is designed to filter out.
On one hand, this whole theory is just me nerding out. And I could always be wrong.
But the idea of words having energetic gates (which form a border when closed) seems to match how people subconsciously relate to them:
Just like there’s often plenty of political debate about how much (and to whom or what) a country’s borders should be open, there’s constant ongoing debate about doing this with words as well:
You literally (pun intended) have language conservatives who assert that the exact definition of words matter and if we don’t uphold them, language slowly degenerates into noise.
And you have language progressives (which—as with politics—are often younger demographics, artists and creatives) who re-shape those very definitions over time.
Because if a majority of people uses a word in the “wrong way”, the word is forced to adapt to its new use because language is a tool for communication.
As with politics, both of these forces are crucial for the wellbeing of language.
Much like the culture of a society, the culture of language is like a virtual reality we collectively choose to believe in that becomes an interface we use to interact with the real thing.
Much like the culture of a society, language can be oppressive or liberating, it can be infected with mind-viruses or used to uplift a population.
…and much like the culture of a society, language is a powerful form of magic that entrances an entire population and at the same time only keeps existing because of that same population’s agreement on how they define it.
When you pay attention to it, you can see that switching around the words in a phrase can completely change what’s possible for you to do with it, energetically speaking.
When you pay attention to the words people use in their communication—knowing the alternatives available—you’ll also notice that they are no coincidence, energetically speaking.
That’s why words matter. Why each individual word we use matters more than we think it does. Because it’s the very magic that keeps us entranced through our thoughts and the thoughts we extend towards each other.
And at the same time—again, like with culture—as much as language is worth preserving, it’s worth grokking in your bones that none of it is real or directly observable.
Which means that if you decide to drop your belief in words, you can temporarily suspend the power they hold over you and do something entirely different.
Make a new word or use an old one in a new way. Discover that in the end, we are the ones who create.
Isn’t that flamuggible?