Never let your language languish

I don't believe our world exists to provide us with words; our world is our words, and our words constitute the fabric which tethers our life to that of others in a seamless way.

We may look at the buildings around us for a comparison to see if indeed words are a construction of something, our life and world. A building can truly be a testament to the defiance of which man is capable when he/she needs to alter the existence of things all around. We are capable of both temples and shelters.

Words are much like buildings, but only words can be said to be truly magnificent. How can we honestly compare the things we construct and erect outside of ourselves when we have language itself with in us. Our language: the unrivalled source, our commodity of words inexhaustible.

Some look at the bigger picture like I cannot help but do. Just as our imagination runs amok if we attempt a comprehension of the multiverse (engulfing our planet and who really knows what else), one can get lost by trying to serve up a reduction of how it is that the world turns, and on whose watch and dime. It begets a desperate nightmare at times.

But, if you can speak or listen, invent words or sing the quotidian with the cadence of a bird, you can reconstruct the world itself as many times over as your waking hours or even your wee small hours allow. Maybe you don't believe. I believe I can change the way someone fundamentally lives, and only by speaking my piece.

The person, this human being is the fundamental cell in a living body which constitutes the world. The world is comprised of people who, without even the slightest scintillation of the unimaginable, they can invoke the "never-having-been-before", the creation of existence within another being who, not only turns with the world in synchronous rotation, but also, according to my life and my argument, makes the world turn.

If you have lost faith in everything imaginable and then in even the mud underfoot, dare to tell yourself the lie that your language is ineffectual and not sufficiently amplified to make things anew amongst us all. Even as I say this and yearn to believe that the world is in our hands (some sort of metonymy or synecdoche I know, an expression meaning that our voice, our human voice, reins as it is the supreme expression of our volition), I may not always listen myself. For this I truly am human and apologize.

Which is the temple and where is it, the one we built outside ourselves, built to a god or goddess who did not first speak and utter unto us even their existence? Anti-theists would recognize that powerful -- in whichever sense of the term -- religions communicate to god(s) with their human words.

This week I'm in a classroom at 12,000 feet in altitude, and my words are not so effortless. I am no longer managing in my own, native language, or my second language. And the transference and construction of knowledge requires of me for the benefit of my students/teachers, most of my speaking capability. Even though the studnets/teachers are speaking to me in Quechua, I'm trying to build and trying to listen.

We're all someplace and we should talk like it.