Over the last few months I have become more aware of the limitations of communication.
I’m known for often being a day late and a dollar short, so if these observations are old news to you, please skip on. It is my intention to write multiple posts on this topic, but just how many I don’t know yet.
Some months ago I left a writers group I had organized with a friend. The side-effects of my leaving were minor to the group, but the co-creator took my departure, and creation of a new group, as an affront. To this day I have been unable to make contact with my old partner. To this day she believes that what I did was aimed at her. Nothing I’ve done since has made the slightest difference. I can’t get through.
No insult was meant. Most of what I am held accountable for never happened at all, and yet this misunderstanding has created a wall that seems too permanent to ever breach.
If I could see the world through this woman’s eyes and mind, perhaps I could find a way to mend the rift. Alas, the human ability to read minds and experience the world through someone else is a thing of fantasy. We say we can do it, we pretend we can do it, we certainly want to do it, but no. We can’t.
We are so easily insulted. We are so easily convinced that someone holds us to be bad, wrong, mean, or downright evil. Why, I wonder?
I say that the reason this occurs is that when it comes down to it, we do not speak the same language. Clearly everyone in our social group speaks a version, a dialect of the same language, but the way we use words does not match up exactly with those who hear what we say.
Image: www.saidaonline.com
The problem arises in that we have all, on one level or another, agreed that we mean the same thing, but that agreement is too high-level to contain the full meaning of the words we use. Friendships are broken, marriages devastated, and wars are started over personal understanding of words we believe convey the same meaning to everyone.
I have two examples to share about this:
1. If you have ever learned another language at any level—even what you might call linguistic mastery—and then tried to use that language, “on the ground”, you will have found that no matter how intense your studies were, you still made mistakes. You still hurt or insulted people. In my experience this resulted sometimes in anger, but mostly in laughter (at me) for being foolish. I would say that in a case like that, the laughter was anger smoothed over to prevent an incident.
2. Here’s a way to describe it that anyone who does not suffer from color-blindness can use to help understand. Find something near you that is BRIGHT RED. Close one eye, and stare at the object for 20 or 30 seconds, then switch eyes. If you are honest with yourself, and really do the experiment, you will perceive a difference in perception of the red item between your two eyes. You will realize that if your two eyes see different “reds”, but assign the same label to them, that same thing must be going on with language. All the time.
It is easy, in our “wisdom”, to assume we know what the other person is really saying. Why? Because we know what we mean. We assume that the person we are speaking with uses the same paradigm. It just isn’t true. Our meaning, the way we hold words, tonality, gestures, posture, body language, every kind of communication we take part in, is a product of our culture, our upbringing.
There is a lot more to say about this. But for now, let me assure you that being tuned into this odd mish-mash of communication problems can only make you a better, more insightful writer.
Stay tuned.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio... and isn't it time you experienced some of them?
{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
Excellent post!
More than just mis-communication is at work here. It’s also our misplaced reliance on Ego to tell us when we should be offended (often!!!) instead of allowing perceived insults to roll off our back and drift away.
I have had similar experiences on many occasions. The unnecessary rifts and mistaken judgments used to bother me. Now, I confess, not so much.
I do what I can to mend fences, but if someone else insists on hanging on to silly grudges . . . I figure it’s their loss and move on to new adventures.
Thanks for posting this,
Write on . . . and I’ll do my best to understand what you meant to say. : )
My current FB status:
On the Spiritual Path, people who annoy us are our “teachers.”
In time, people who can upset us become harder and harder to find. ♥ ♥ ♥
It’s an SPS ~ a Spiritual Positioning System, as Cynthia Blake described it, a . . . “you are here” on the spiritual map. ; )
To communicate our own thoughts and ideas successfully we must first be able to quiet our own mind and truely listen to those around us. Many times we are so focused on the next point or idea we want to make that we are not listening both with our ears and our eyes. Body language is an essential part of understanding along with tone and eye contact. I believe with the continued advancements of technology, face to face or even phone to phone communication is becoming less common and with that there will be a lot more unintended miscommunication.
Thanks for sharing and have a lovely day.
Excellent point, Debbie.
When our own thoughts get out of the way, we can hear more easily what is being offered.
And body language is key ~ I am rarely misunderstood in face to face encounters (and even over the phone) because people can hear the “teasing” in my voice.
In print . . . miscommunications abound (especially on sensitive and personal subjects). : )
It becomes especially tricky, as Nancy says, because the written word doesn’t have the vocal tone that ensures understanding.
A Meditaton on Language by Loreen Lee. copyrite. 2000
I felt a need to speak with you today. And this is strange. For I had just left the company of friends and did not have much to say to them. Rather than becoming involved in the conversation, I listened, for I did not feel that it was appropriate to share with them my inmost thoughts. And so my friends became to me as strangers because I did not think that they would understand what I had to say. And thinking of your company, I mused to myself what I would like to say to you; and whether you, because I feel so close to you, could understand these secrets of my soul. Will you listen then, my love, to me, as I listened to my friends?
But I hesitate. You cannot answer me. And therefore I must imagine your response. You are, as it were, held captive to my thoughts, and so it is, as though I speak these words to myself. And what if, because of their nature, I cannot put my thoughts into words? If I could not have shared these thoughts with friends, why should I think that I could share them with anyone at all? But our relationship is so unique; and we are so close, that surely my words will have meaning to you, if not now, perhaps some time in the future. In thinking my thoughts through, I will approach you with more integrity when at last we do meet face to face, because in searching for words to reveal myself, I may indeed find myself. And in finding myself, do I not also find you? Even now I believe you feel my feelings; you react to my emotions; you think my thoughts; and that is why I believe that you will also understand these, my most personal musings.
Suddenly there arises within me a doubt. . Perhaps you too, my love, may also, like my friends, become, some day, a stranger to me. Perhaps we too will meet, and have nothing better to do than discuss trivialities; gossip, or the latest news; weather, politics. But I must pause. Is talk about the world a triviality, or are such matters of the utmost consequence? Would I speak differently about the world if I were more in tune with my private thoughts? Is that why I feel it is so important to speak to you now; in the hope of finding a greater understanding. But in writing down these thoughts, you may yet be but a stranger to me because you are not, at the same time, able to reveal your own most personal thoughts to me? Are we all strangers to one another? Can we not intimately know one another? Is this because each of us, perhaps speaks a different language; that the language of the heart differs from the language of the mind? Can we not be intimate friends then, because your language is as foreign to me as mine is to you? Is it difficult to be friends, not merely because of the generalities within the language that we speak; but rather, because we can speak only through different individual interpretations of that language; thus, when I desire to speak to you of my inner world, this I find I cannot do. I feel the need to search for a language; a language that is genuine and true; a language through which I can speak of my hopes and dreams; a language through which I can speak the intimacies of my thought to you.
Away from the gossip that one hears within the public domain, I look back on conversations that now seem trivial and strange, for such talk does not speak to the heart, but only to the mind. The emphasis is on the fact, the interpretation is of the fact; the words seem to have more import than the meaning. That is perhaps why I feel that there is a confusion between matters of genuine concern and what is commonly called gossip; and indeed either may be spoken with neither conscious intention nor forethought. I feel that the more my words express my genuine concern for others, the more will my discourse be set on a strong foundation; the more will I become aware of what I understand myself to be when I speak, the more will I learn to love; the more will I understand the needs and purpose of others.
Gossip makes up such a large part of our lives. Yet, when I listen to thoughtless conversation, I search for the love that is needed to learn about myself; my own needs as well as the needs of others. Even as I listen to gossip, I seek to learn in what ways the persons spoken about, the persons speaking, are not only like my self, but also very different. I listen in order to develop discrimination. Perhaps each of us may learn from the similarities and differences we find between ourselves and others; all of us listening and speaking to one another with conscious intent.
Yet we may ask: are we conscious of our perceptions of other people before we are conscious of our perceptions of ourselves? Do we become aware of our own limitations by becoming first aware of the limitations in others? Perhaps when we gossip, we consider the actions of others as moral or immoral and draw conclusions for our own lives. Yet each of us makes an individual choice, in every moment, in every conversation. In the chatter there is a seeming endless variation. Thus, although we may come to some insight into the limitations of others, we cannot change either the cause or the effect; it is only through insight into our own inner world that limitations in thought, word, and deed can be overcome. And then through the manner in which we communicate ourselves to others, we may hope if not for reciprocity; that at least we may be a guiding influence. And so we strive to know ourselves better, in order that our choices will grow both in love and freedom.
I now imagine you to understand that we can consider gossip trivial because we are speaking of others without knowledge of ourselves? I am imagining again that you understand my thoughts, that we share the same feeling. This is presumptuous; and yet I feel it is the common bond that holds together most human interaction. Perhaps that too, is the reason why conversations often remain on the surface; why they do not explore the depths of soul or substance. We do not have, we cannot take the time. It is easier to talk about others than it is to examine our own lives and motivation. But the thoughts I wish to share with you, are surely not as trivial as the meaningless chatter of the market place. I believe that you are listening to me; from this guidance I shall learn to listen to those others that I call my friends.
What am I thinking? My private thoughts surely cannot be spoken of within a public forum. They are thoughts not of others, but of me. Even when we confess our shortcomings; although we may even express exaggerated pride in our accomplishments; surely this cannot be thought of as gossiping about ourselves. We explore ourselves. We share with friends. We talk in public. We do not inform ourselves of our own limitations, in the same way that we take note of the inadequacies of others; if indeed we are able to recognize our own shortcomings. When we come to a sudden insight about why we behave or think, we are not always aware that this is an opportunity to change ourselves for it is only through this awareness that are we able to develop ourselves in character and virtue. Unfortunately we more than often dismiss the possibility. We fail to educate ourselves about ourselves. The insight, the intuition, the epiphany is lost; not dwelt upon; not known.
Why is it that I suddenly imagine that you are not listening to me now? Why is it that I feel that you are not interested in these self reflections let alone be interested in listening to the babblings of my mind? Is it because I imagine you to be most perfect in your taste, and most knowledgeable in your choices? Is it because I imagine you to have purity of thought, untainted by life’s experience? This thought of you, is perhaps an ideal within my mind, that makes me aware, even now, that the logic of my language, like those of whom I speak, is also attuned to the world of trivia; gossip and politics, and that it is therefore not as developed an expression of myself, as some day I would like it to be. I listen for you to speak. I trust that you know the answers. Are you then an idealization of my mind, rather than a real human being? Do we need such an ideal; a concept , a thought, a person that is greater than ourselves, that is more perfect than ourselves, in order to go beyond the trivia within our mind, to go beyond the chaos of thought that we find within the world? But you do hear my voice. Indeed it is your ability to hear of my inadequacies, of the tales of my finitude, which makes my audience before you a praise and thanksgiving of your majesty and perfection.
I understand that these last thought are related not to matters of fact within the real world that can be known; they are not a presentation of what science can tell us about atoms, about energy, about matter and even the weather. But how shall I interpret for you the world of public discourse without first knowing what my own thoughts truly are? How shall I speak to you about the world when I still seek to learn about myself? Of have I reversed the priority? Need my thoughts change from day to day; from circumstance to circumstance when they are informed, not by personal reflection but by the knowledge gained through science, the opinions and ideologies listened to and shared in coffee houses, and institutions of learning? Need I be guided by abstract theories and paradigms in order to embrace the world with surety? I understand that you might not want me to borrow a perspective from others, or to repeat with redundancy what I have heard others say before me. And yet I may learn by testing for myself what other people give as possibilities within discourse, as examples of action.
But perhaps I err. Once again my words do not express what I am trying to say. There is much frustration in finding so much error in the trials of life. I do not always learn from my mistakes. There remain for me some thoughts that I cannot make my own, some thoughts that I would not make my own.
Whenever I speak to you of events within the world, whenever I speak, not of what I believe but of what people say is known, it is not my thoughts that you hear. In the world of public discourse, I do not speak my thoughts. Even if I were to name an object in your presence, and there may yet be time for humanity to name all the objects of the world; even if I were to name a book, an orange, a planet, a distant star; these words would not be my thoughts, in the sense that they belonged to myself alone, for these are all thoughts that I have inherited; they are all part of our history through language of our being together in the world. Language teaches us what has already been named before us; through a language not of particulars but of universals. And that is perhaps why we forget their meaning until we have examined the objects of experience for ourselves, in their minute and varied detail. And yet an infinity of objects named remains; an infinity of universals within the eternity of the private moments of the individual. When we meet I should like to speak of this world in a language that we have personalized, in a language that we have learned to share together in each other’s company. I would like to know you and speak your name.
We seldom try to articulate our own most private feelings, and possibly we never can. If you were one of my friends we would have spoken of the physics of the news, of the weather, rather than reveal the metaphysics of our own private thoughts. Some day, together you and I, we may even spin webs of idiomatic conceits, and dialectical metaphors around and about the compass of our private times and spaces. We would leave our silences untouched. Yet in these webs of language, we would be oblivious to the passage of time; for it is language that gives to time, not only an awareness of its infinite duration and presence, but a sense of its demanding obligation.
Yet thoughts of the world that I might speak to you now in your company cannot be spoken with honesty, because you are not able to shape with your answer, their ebb and flow. That is why we can lose ourselves in the public spheres of the vernacular; and yet I do not feel as though I lose my thoughts with you. I feel as though you understand everything that I think and feel. I feel intelligence in your listening voice. I feel that although we cannot speak those eternal thoughts; that you are receptive to this being, this presence that I cannot reveal through language.
Perhaps the language of the heart, the language of the moment, requires the singularity of your answer. Yet I must speak to you now. To prepare myself for your answer. Yet although I cannot see your face or hear your voice, I cannot remain silent. I feel that you are aware of my thoughts, even before they are put into words. I can imagine your response as I focus my thoughts within. But words fail me. I cannot speak my silences even to my self? Is it possible then that I might not be able to speak this awareness of myself to you? There is the awareness of a self that is by itself. Like you are abiding within your self. . So close. And yet so far away; so silent.
You too must have the awareness of feelings, and emotions that are without language. You too must be aware of having a self that is without language. It is this self that I would wish to communicate to you. I feel in need of a language that could convey to you the presence of this self. I feel the need, not of language but of the Word. Such a language would capture the past and the future in the present of this moment. Can you feel what I am saying to you? The thought of your presence inspires in me the thought of such a language.
What is it that I feel at this moment in time? What is this language that comes to me as I wait for you to come to me? Will this time that passes now so slowly, be but the passage of unarticulated thoughts? I speak as though to myself in your absence. Yet I remain in touch with your presence; with silences that cannot be spoken, not even softly to my self. These are not the thoughts of loneliness for your grace. These are the thoughts of solitude. Not loneliness. But solitude.
I have grown from loneliness to this solitude through the thought of your presence, your company. Let me speak of the difference. In my loneliness I no longer remain in the moment. I no longer think of myself as who I am, but feel myself in a world in which I have need. And it is in moments of loneliness, not solitude, that I feel the need of a response, an answer to my question. But now in your presence I do not feel this need. I do not expect an answer. I am happy in your company.
Do we even now, know all of the differences between loneliness and solitude? We may feign a future in which we are in need of company; in need of strangers who do not share a private language; strangers who speak a language not of the moment, but of a future that may never be? So, through language my loneliness becomes an anticipation of the future. For it is as strangers, that we find ourselves in loneliness; it is as strangers, that we speak the language not of the present, but of the future.
Living in a language of the moment, in a language of presence, we would forgive that need. In our solitude it is your presence that I would feel. Indeed, even now I feel the presence of the eternal.
These thoughts that I have of your imagined being grow slowly. And yet I persevere in order that some day I may think of you as you are. It is through the slow passage of time, that my solitude is distinguished more and more from my loneliness.
In moments of solitude, I do not dwell on my thoughts in the same way that I do when I feel lonely. In moments of solitude I remain focused in the present, and even lose my sense of self. In my solitude I can feel your presence close to me. In my solitude I do not feel the loneliness. I have a distance from the world. I have a distance even from you, my love. For within the immortality of time, is found a freedom within the spatiality of being. In this way there arises a blessing within the kinds of distancing we find in solitude. May I therefore, learn in my solitude to cherish this special kind of distance, as I understand that you too are and always will be comfortable with your self, in a solitude that is without need. For it is because you are without need that you are able give to me this solitude, this distance, this love. Oh! That I may become in your way, less needful; that I may be able to find through you in your way, your love.
But what are these feelings that I am having now? Once again I question whether I can speak these thoughts to you. Yet I feel even now, that you can understand me. How can I think that you will understand my language, my most private thoughts, when I seem to be aware of things that I am unable to utter, and utter words of which I am unaware? I must remember to take comfort in my solitude; to be comforted with the thought that at some time, I will be able to transpose any loneliness I might feel into a solitude that will last though all of my most private hours. For the thoughts of my solitude are like a meditation or a prayer. May I be able to speak my thoughts, write my thoughts, find my thoughts, for you. Indeed, let us share our solitude, and turn our most private thoughts into a common prayer.
Until we meet, I am brought to the realization that in these moments of solitude, I may be thankful that there is an awareness that is prior to speech and language. And that this is an awareness not of my self alone, but of my self in your company. For are we not, always, in the thoughts of each other; in one another’s company. And it is this awareness that I feel arise within me at this moment. It is this thought that I would fashion into words. So that you may know, my love, that I speak to you of the most quiet thoughts of my solitude; that I speak to you now, the words, the thoughts, the emotions, that come to my mind, like rain falling from the skies, like a bird’s song in the early morning hours, quietly, unobtrusively, suddenly, unexpectedly, in these moments of solitude.
Extraordinary
Thank you for your public acknowledgment. I am going to concentrate on my writing, and hopefully in achieving some kind of solitude. All the best. You are a wonderful in making critiques, and I have benefited immensely from your insights. Penny Pritchard
You are also very intelligent. Your humility just makes you underestimate yourself.
Ricky,
I love miscommunication for all the potential of unfold funny stories. The humor that arises from misunderstanding and how we can laugh at our own mistakes.
A question…
How do you “mark” the difference between irony, sarcasm and true telling when you are building your characters? How do you let the readers know about that?
Loreen,
I found your writing absolutely exquisite and profound. Thanks for sharing it.
As Maya Angelou (right spelling?) said “we are more alike than what we think” or something like that.
M-
I think you already know the answer to this. Of course you cannot “let on”–at least not through narration. To do so would rob the reader of his or her moment of discovery. It would dull the effect.
While you can let a “fellow player” in your story discover the nature of the exchange and talk about it, I feel that is a bit “cheap”. It’s a little like Doyle using Watson to explain Holms, rather than letting readers work it out for themselves.
I am a proponent of allowing the reader that moment of “ah-ha” that makes them feel a part of the story, and somehow smarter than the author.
M. Thank you. Glad it gave you some good thoughts.
On irony and sarcasm as against the truth there is much controversy. Some irony contests the perceived truth in order to point out another truth. Some irony attempts to reveal what cannot be said. Some irony is gentle, some can be actually ‘mean’. Very often metaphor is involved. Because it is a matter of interpretation, I don’t think you can assure your reader of the meaning or intention. I believe there should be freedom of interpretation in poetic interaction. How irony develops over the course of the writing/interaction in art or in life, is I believe a matter of discrimination, of comparing precedent with consequent, etc. etc. Question for you: Are we responsible to/for another’s interpretation of our irony. Whether or not we are, we will certainly suffer consequences if we are perceived as being mean and sarcastic. Again, thank you.
Ricky and Loree,
Thank you very much for your answers.
M
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