All of reality simply is what it is—the words we use to describe reality are useful, but they are imperfect models of reality itself.
We can predict the weather with greater and greater accuracy, but we will never be able to predict the exact shape, position, and landing spot of every raindrop. To do that, we would have to be the storm itself.
I may describe a sunset in beautiful detail, painting vivid reds, pinks, and oranges for your mind’s eye. In fact, if I am a very good writer, you may feel more awe and inspiration from reading my words than you would from actually having been there yourself. Yet it would be impossible to capture a sunset fully in words. For that, you would need to be the sun and the earth.
So too, when it comes to describing our internal, subjective experiences—our minds, our thoughts, our feelings, our emotions, our desires.
The best writers and speakers are those who can do this translation so well that we read their words and say “Yes! That’s how it feels.”
But many of us may not have such refined tools of expression—nor, perhaps, a carefully calibrated instrument for inspecting our inner worlds in the first place.
To calibrate our instruments, we must first and above all—pay attention.
And yet, always we must remember that words are but a fuzzy translation of the infinitely deep reality that we exist in.
This doesn’t demean words—it isn’t an insult. I am among the biggest fans of well-placed, well-thought words.
It’s just a note on things and how they are.
Something to pay attention to.
This post is a chapter from my book, Thoughts, Volume 1, where I share reflections and ideas chapter by chapter. In the book, it’s titled “On Words”.
