What happens inside our mind is incomprehensible. I was fascinated to psychology years ago for the same reason. My mother feared too much love for the subject ,would turn me a psycho which I do not deny I am ,still it fascinated me . A part of mine interprets my thought processes as I act it out, just as you make sense of each word you read now. Is that not fun?
You read with such ease that you never realise it is a miracle. Reading these words and making sense of it simultaneously amazes me. If your eyes get locked at something you did not understand your Microsoft word (your brain) searches for synonyms or something similar you heard to assist you/
Imagine being illiterate , you roam around seeing colourful shapes that mean nothing to you. And imagine the joy you had while reading your name – the bond you felt with those colourful shapes which meant you- which meant your identity- no wonder each time we learn a language we learn to write our name first and cherish it.
We index them neatly, some of us have them cluttered too, some lucky one lose them. We bring them out in fights, crisis and cud chewing moments and delight, pride and weep over them.
Sometimes in the middle of the whole process mind goes blank and if you know what I mean it’s a beautiful experience. There were moments when I kept repeating A-L-W-A-Y-S back and forth and still could not believe it is a word and forgot what it meant. Only people who love words would no what I mean and not passerby. I often pause at scrabble board and amaze myself at the discovery of new meanings. The problem Is we throw words in a sentence as if we made them.
I have a friend who loves Derrida deconstruction) and keeps deconstructing a word till you cant any further. He asks what’s a chair? And I said, “something you sit on”. “But that could be a log too”, he says and then I say, “well chair is a thing which has a back support can be of metal or wood or plastic and of a particular shape”. But disproving me, he gives alternatives for all the above. Google the word chair and you would see pictures which will re define your definition of a chair.
And if conveying the meaning of something non living as a chair is so difficult, what about a living mind? Doesn’t a word fail to express the most joyous and saddest moments of life? Just as cameras cannot capture the essence of the moment. Doesn’t the transfer of thoughts from mind to paper lose a lot of essence? Nothing living can be preserved so we call them memories. What remains is just an evidence which says “ I was here- I experienced it”. And still all these literature, pieces of information flung at you in papers mystify you that they convey a lot. Do they?
That’s what makes me crazy about human mind and words.