Saturday, February 6, 2010
Revealing Thoughts
A friend of mine recently told me she doesn't bother using glasses for a mild case of myopia because she doesn't need to see into the distance. I thought it was a very odd thing to say, and also very telling. Although she was referring to practical uses for glasses, such as driving, I couldn't help interpreting this seemingly innocuous statement as a personal philosophy. Another friend once told me that she"doesn't look up" when I wondered how she hadn't noticed that the house she's lived in for twenty years is situated under one of the flight paths of our city's busy international airport. Apart from the fact that I marvelled how such a thing could have escaped her notice for so long, whether she looks up or not, once again I observed how this comment reflected so much about her views on life. She's by no means a negative person, in fact, just the opposite, but such statements still circumscribe a person's outlook.
My friend who doesn't care about looking into the distance is an elder, in the best and deepest sense of the word. Usually I would consider her comment, as well as that of my ground-level oriented friend, as an indication that they fear what they choose not to see. Both women are well-travelled and worldly. They've been far away, and way up in the sky, many times. So why am I so fascinated by their casual, seemingly insignificant comments? I realize I'm dwelling on language again - something I love to do - and how its use reflects what a person thinks and feels.
A person's choice of words reveals volumes about themselves. Just ask Henry Higgins. (That's not possible, of course, he's a fictional character. And you can't ask G.B. Shaw, his creator, either, because he's dead.) The point is, much more than we probably care to share is revealed by the way we speak. Language is a human construct, and it's not just our conscious thoughts that go into the making of our personal philosophies. Our unconscious is always lurking in the background, rising up in the form of dreams when we sleep, or making an appearance when we perform certain waking, habitual behaviours - when we're on "automatic pilot." We take language so much for granted, so that we often slip into saying what we truly think, without really thinking at all.
I once knew a very pretty, insecure, and shy young woman, whom I suspected was still suffering from some sort of childhood trauma. She told me she didn't like looking in the mirror. When I asked her why, she replied that she didn't like "looking at herself." She genuinely believed she was unattractive. The mirror revealed her outward appearance, but her choice of words exposed what was going on inside her head, and as a consequence, that's what she saw in the mirror. It was as if she were looking deep within herself, and what she saw frightened her.
If what we say reveals how we think and feel, then maybe if we changed the way we spoke, we could change the way we feel. The physical senses send messages to the brain immediately and automatically. Most of these sense messages we can't control, but the things we purposely say and do can be controlled, and those messages are just as powerful. If we consciously practise saying things we'd like to be feeling and thinking, eventually the brain will get the message, and the subtle and gradual process of rewiring our neural network will have begun.
It's hard to be positive all the time. Nor should we have to be. But actually choosing to be hurtful or negative to yourself or others isn't necessary, either. I find that if I'm honestly not feeling kindly disposed towards a person or situation and have nothing good to say, I prefer to say nothing. It gets me into less trouble that way. I try to follow the Buddhist philosophy of simply doing no harm. Ultimately, I feel as if I'm a stronger and better person when I take the path of least resistance, which usually means just walking away, rather than engaging in conflict.
Language is a tool. It can build and destroy. Sometimes I slip up and show a side of myself that I'd prefer other people not to see just by letting go of a careless word or bit of profanity, although even that has its place. Words can paint vivid pictures, and what's being said describes the speaker as much as the subject.
Speaker beware.
- G.P.
My friend who doesn't care about looking into the distance is an elder, in the best and deepest sense of the word. Usually I would consider her comment, as well as that of my ground-level oriented friend, as an indication that they fear what they choose not to see. Both women are well-travelled and worldly. They've been far away, and way up in the sky, many times. So why am I so fascinated by their casual, seemingly insignificant comments? I realize I'm dwelling on language again - something I love to do - and how its use reflects what a person thinks and feels.
A person's choice of words reveals volumes about themselves. Just ask Henry Higgins. (That's not possible, of course, he's a fictional character. And you can't ask G.B. Shaw, his creator, either, because he's dead.) The point is, much more than we probably care to share is revealed by the way we speak. Language is a human construct, and it's not just our conscious thoughts that go into the making of our personal philosophies. Our unconscious is always lurking in the background, rising up in the form of dreams when we sleep, or making an appearance when we perform certain waking, habitual behaviours - when we're on "automatic pilot." We take language so much for granted, so that we often slip into saying what we truly think, without really thinking at all.
I once knew a very pretty, insecure, and shy young woman, whom I suspected was still suffering from some sort of childhood trauma. She told me she didn't like looking in the mirror. When I asked her why, she replied that she didn't like "looking at herself." She genuinely believed she was unattractive. The mirror revealed her outward appearance, but her choice of words exposed what was going on inside her head, and as a consequence, that's what she saw in the mirror. It was as if she were looking deep within herself, and what she saw frightened her.
If what we say reveals how we think and feel, then maybe if we changed the way we spoke, we could change the way we feel. The physical senses send messages to the brain immediately and automatically. Most of these sense messages we can't control, but the things we purposely say and do can be controlled, and those messages are just as powerful. If we consciously practise saying things we'd like to be feeling and thinking, eventually the brain will get the message, and the subtle and gradual process of rewiring our neural network will have begun.
It's hard to be positive all the time. Nor should we have to be. But actually choosing to be hurtful or negative to yourself or others isn't necessary, either. I find that if I'm honestly not feeling kindly disposed towards a person or situation and have nothing good to say, I prefer to say nothing. It gets me into less trouble that way. I try to follow the Buddhist philosophy of simply doing no harm. Ultimately, I feel as if I'm a stronger and better person when I take the path of least resistance, which usually means just walking away, rather than engaging in conflict.
Language is a tool. It can build and destroy. Sometimes I slip up and show a side of myself that I'd prefer other people not to see just by letting go of a careless word or bit of profanity, although even that has its place. Words can paint vivid pictures, and what's being said describes the speaker as much as the subject.
Speaker beware.
- G.P.
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