I find it intriguing that language – the words we know and associate to objects and ideas – is, in effect, a gateway to our humanity. If I was capable of blacking my mind and voiding myself of thought to exist in this state of perpetual non-clutter (in other words, live without language), there would be no concern with being “human”.
After listening to this podcast I couldn’t help thinking about this in terms of a Garden of Eden type scenario. At times, they paint this language-less world as a place of innocence and freedom. A place where people are in touch with nature and their physical self, largely because they have become unaware of how to make sense of the world around them. And slowly, learning language effectively births them into an awareness of themselves – like Adam or whatever (I think that’s how that story goes). The way it plays out in the podcast, it definitely feels as if they are okay with this sense of leaving the garden, as am I.
We use language to connect, whether it be with ideas or symbols or gestures. And these things ultimately end up defining our humanity – or perhaps we use them in order to define our humanity (I hope you see the difference). The ability to empathize is almost entirely a result of our ability to communicate through language. Placing ourselves in perspectives outside of our own would not be possible without a commonality of objects represented by words. Language is a manifestation of the invisible connections we make in our minds to the world around us. Thought becomes language becomes knowledge becomes power.
In the end, however, it seems to me that we have created a key to get back in the garden. Once you’ve grasped language and words to the point that they become a method of creation, you essentially allow yourself the ability to create your own reality. Now, I know this sounds like some kind of enlightenment spiel, but what I’m really talking about is how we use our thoughts (in terms of language) to reconnect with the innocence of the natural world (ie wind in your hair, sand between your toes, sound of waves breaking on the beach). With language we are afforded new, complicated, intricate and vivid experiences with/in nature.
It’s like we are in the garden, but the garden is in us. Too much? Yeah, too much.