langwij iz ah vairuss
Also, I've been discussing Crowley's Unique Contribution with another old pal... I'll spare you the whole thing...
Language is a virus... or, to put it more... scientifically... language appears at times to assume thee properties ov a virus... "...a sub-microscopic infectious agent that is unable to grow or reproduce outside a host cell." (thanks anonymous Wikipedia author)
I find it fascinating and extremely relevant to this discussion that viruses can be described as "...organisms at the edge of life." Perhaps our definition of life is in need of redefining. Perhaps our language, the map or grid, does not fit the territory exactly. Of course it's the nature of maps and grids to be a bit less-than-complete.
English is so clunky sometimes. Observe:
Tha dow thet ken bee ecksplaned, iz knot the eeturnull, unchainjing dao.
Tha tao thet ken bee spokin ov, iz naught thee eeternull, unchainjing dow.
A transliteration of the original Chinese is so much more beautiful:
dao ke dao, fei chang dao. ming ke ming, fei chang ming.
Language separates us as much as it brings us together, and not just in the sense that I really can't read Chinese, or speak fluent Spanish... I mean, in some sense, that in using language we assume the other grasps our meaning, when in fact, they might not at all, yet we carry on as if they do. And yeah, it's not just language either.
"We perceive there as being something essential in the way that our senses come together, in the accident that we are. We believe our own stories."
Aye, there's the rub! Chattering monkeys, oh excuuuuuuuse me, APES, with nifty thumbs and whatnot, stuck to the side of a beautiful blue mudball spinning around an unremarkable star (forgive me, Ra, but you have literally gazillions of dopplegangers out there) in an unremarkable galaxy in a universe filled with galaxies... and we are somehow special... as if our excrutiatingly limited senses -- even when they are extended with our feeble technology -- could ever begin to grasp a tiny bit of the whole... yet we find a way to go on. We focus on the day to day, get caught up in the swing of things, forget we are merely apes making noises and following long-forgotten instincts.
Stripped down to the bare essentials we are animals... All the rest is make-believe.
Damn, that is a hell of a diagnosis. But at least we have gnosis! Ah, language...
XTC (from the album 'Black Sea')
There is no language in our lungs
to tell the world just how we feel
no bridge of thought
no mental link
no letting out just what you think
there is no language in our lungs
there is no muscle in our tongues
to tell the world what's in our hearts
no we're leaving nothing
just chiselled stones
no chance to speak before we're bones
there is no muscle in our tongues
I thought I had the whole world in my mouth
I thought I could say what I wanted to say
For a second that thought became a sword in my hand
I could slay any problem that would stand in my way
I felt just like a crusader
lionheart, a holy land invader
but nobody can say what they really mean to say and
the impotency of speech came up and hit me that day and
I would have made this instrumental
but the words got in the way
there is no language in our...
there is no language in our lungs
to tell the world what's in our hearts
no we're leaving nothing behind
just chiselled stones
no chance to speak before we're bones
there is no language in our lungs.
Language is a virus... or, to put it more... scientifically... language appears at times to assume thee properties ov a virus... "...a sub-microscopic infectious agent that is unable to grow or reproduce outside a host cell." (thanks anonymous Wikipedia author)
I find it fascinating and extremely relevant to this discussion that viruses can be described as "...organisms at the edge of life." Perhaps our definition of life is in need of redefining. Perhaps our language, the map or grid, does not fit the territory exactly. Of course it's the nature of maps and grids to be a bit less-than-complete.
English is so clunky sometimes. Observe:
Tha dow thet ken bee ecksplaned, iz knot the eeturnull, unchainjing dao.
Tha tao thet ken bee spokin ov, iz naught thee eeternull, unchainjing dow.
A transliteration of the original Chinese is so much more beautiful:
dao ke dao, fei chang dao. ming ke ming, fei chang ming.
Language separates us as much as it brings us together, and not just in the sense that I really can't read Chinese, or speak fluent Spanish... I mean, in some sense, that in using language we assume the other grasps our meaning, when in fact, they might not at all, yet we carry on as if they do. And yeah, it's not just language either.
"We perceive there as being something essential in the way that our senses come together, in the accident that we are. We believe our own stories."
Aye, there's the rub! Chattering monkeys, oh excuuuuuuuse me, APES, with nifty thumbs and whatnot, stuck to the side of a beautiful blue mudball spinning around an unremarkable star (forgive me, Ra, but you have literally gazillions of dopplegangers out there) in an unremarkable galaxy in a universe filled with galaxies... and we are somehow special... as if our excrutiatingly limited senses -- even when they are extended with our feeble technology -- could ever begin to grasp a tiny bit of the whole... yet we find a way to go on. We focus on the day to day, get caught up in the swing of things, forget we are merely apes making noises and following long-forgotten instincts.
Stripped down to the bare essentials we are animals... All the rest is make-believe.
Damn, that is a hell of a diagnosis. But at least we have gnosis! Ah, language...
XTC (from the album 'Black Sea')
There is no language in our lungs
to tell the world just how we feel
no bridge of thought
no mental link
no letting out just what you think
there is no language in our lungs
there is no muscle in our tongues
to tell the world what's in our hearts
no we're leaving nothing
just chiselled stones
no chance to speak before we're bones
there is no muscle in our tongues
I thought I had the whole world in my mouth
I thought I could say what I wanted to say
For a second that thought became a sword in my hand
I could slay any problem that would stand in my way
I felt just like a crusader
lionheart, a holy land invader
but nobody can say what they really mean to say and
the impotency of speech came up and hit me that day and
I would have made this instrumental
but the words got in the way
there is no language in our...
there is no language in our lungs
to tell the world what's in our hearts
no we're leaving nothing behind
just chiselled stones
no chance to speak before we're bones
there is no language in our lungs.