le parole

In class today, we discussed the actual, electromagntic, intense powerful substance of words.

"Let there be light."

And then there was light.
But there wasn't light before there was words.
And the power of God's words brought about the light.

Words can denegrate, they can change, they can reduce, they can expand.
They are our way of understanding the world, of understanding reality, of re-presenting the intangible, the unknown, the known, the tangible, capital-L-LIFE.

But.
They aren't the world--these words that spin and sway and try to be something real, tangible, evidenced. They are reductive in their encompassing, portraying themselves as a full story; aiming to convince; aiming for wholeness, yet never quite getting there because that wholeness is something impossible.


There are hundreds of thousands of languages on this planet. Within those hundreds of thousands of languages, there are millions and billions of words, conjunctions, congugations, nouns, pronouns, verbs--all trying to explain this world away, slicing it into tiny bits, cooking them until well-done, aiming for fulness. Fulness of the partaker. Fulness of the dish. Fulness of presentation. Or, re-presentation.

This is my frustration with words. They have power, they have might, they have truth-lower-case-t, but not always Truth-upper-case-t. They desire, want, long for the full story, but never quite obtain it.

Mandarin orange.
Mandarin orange.
Juicy, sweetly citrusy, pockets of skin bursting with flavor and wetness.
Perfect in an Asian toasted salad, with cashews.


I can say it a thousand times. The words fill my mouth. But that doesn't change what I'm not chewing on.


Do you get it? This sub-reality that words like to create? To simplify the world, reduce it, make it graspable?














Reduction is not something I need, currently.
For it is not logical to desire to reduce happiness.