1. When you say something is, you are spared from having to say the infinity of things that it is not.
When you say you love someone, you are spared from having to admit that you do not love everyone else.
Language is convenience. It is the precursor to the wheel.
2. Language is the only way to communicate the unspoken—the divine—but in the process kills this divinity. What is expressed through words is ascribed mortality. An eventual death.
When Nietzsche proclaimed that “god is dead,” the weapon that slew him is those very words.
When god said, “let there be light,” he has doomed us all to darkness.
1.1. To say “it is a cat” is to imply it is not a dog, water, or rock. But the cat, when not described through words, is “not a dog, etc.” to begin with. Everything that it is not is part of itself.
To say “I am” is to limit. I can no longer be the countless “I am not.”
When we speak of the unspoken, we are translating the sacred into our terms. The human experience—fleeting, corruptible.
This is language’s most powerful character: to humanize. It is a god slayer.
To proclaim “I am,” therefore, is to assert your mortality.
With apologies to Descartes, “I die therefore I am.”
I am filled with a love for ideas of things and stories and people but I am scared that if I open my mouth to speak about them for even just a moment, I would spoil everything that remains sacred in my mind…
Isn’t it true that language turns ideas into a shadow of themselves? A word is a thought brought to existence imperfectly, not quite as intended… like Frankenstein’s monster, both beautiful and sad…
An idea has to die through language before settling in another’s mindscape, to live, again. To die, again, once uttered or written.
some parts originally published on Twitter last February 14 & March 20