Communicate, please.
The meaning of a word is its use in the language.
“Forgive my clumsy writing, I was only trying to hand you an unnamed weight.”
Sole words, even in phrases — has nothing to do with understanding. Humans are naturally social. They interact with each other, share emotions with one or another, pick a side within a discussion, or rather just choosing traits to keep and uphold it like their life depends on it — just to keep included in society.
Words, as in languages — are a set of tools. They do not form a fixed meaning like a sticky note on objects, corresponded one-on-one, but rather a act like a toolbox. In some situation, it can mean one thing, in other, it can mean something else. It is not bound to its object of meaning, but somewhat more naked, a thing that can be dressed with any purpose.
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Language does not float above reality. It is not an abstract symbolic system that we use to describe our own abstract flow of thinking and motion. It is simply incapable of it. It is deeply woven into physical movements, cultural habits, emotional reactions, and social rituals — a complete pattern of existence.
If one day, a cat utters things that you can understand, or says a language your mother tongue has embedded on you, you might not even understand it. Because words are bound with context. You can’t fathom a phrase without understanding the background behind it — how it is formed. We — humans, can understand each other and communicate within languages because of our shared traits of existence. We share common things that we do, instincts that we sense, and feelings that we kept.
Or are we not?
Ludwig Wittgenstein proposed a thought experiment; imagine everyone holds a locked box, and inside those boxes is a thing everyone agrees to call a “beetle”. But you can never look inside anyone else’s box. We all use the word “beetle” in conversation. We assume we are talking about the exact same object. But your box could contain a spider, a stone, or nothing at all.
The world is just a public label for a private mystery. This is not about bugs; it is about your mind. When you say “I am sad”, “I am in love”, or “I am in pain”, you are pointing to the beetle in the box. We use identical words, but the internal biological reality remains entirely your own. We walk around believing we perfectly understand one another. Whereas in reality, we are just trading clumsy symbols.
This is why we often feel profoundly isolated, even in crowded rooms. Our deepest realities are ultimately untranslatable. We’re unable to expect perfect comprehension from the world. Perhaps that is what makes language a really interesting part about a human. Recognize that language is an imperfect tool trying to palpate a limitless mind.
For it is true that the goal is not a flawless translation, but radical empathy — accepting the invisible weight of what the other person cannot articulate. Now read the first sentence again.
