paul mccord writes here

Part two in a series of reactions to monologues and short dialogues from Richard Linklater's film Waking Life. The subject matter this time is communication, language, and intangible concepts. You can see others' comments and post your own at the philosophymuse livejournal community.

Creation seems to come out of imperfection. It seems to come out of a striving and a frustration, and this is where I think language came from. It came from our desire to transcend our isolation and have some sort of connection with one another. And it had to be easy when it was just simple survival. Like the word water -- we came up with a sound for that -- or saber tooth tiger right behind you -- we came up with a sound for that.

But when it gets really interesting is when we use that same system of symbols to communicate all the abstract and intangible things that we're experiencing. What is frustration? Or what is anger? Or love?

When I say love, the sound comes out of my mouth and it hits the other person's ear, travels through this byzantine conduit in their brain, through their memories of love, or lack of love, and they register what I'm saying and they say yes, they understand. But how do I know they understand? Because words are inert, they're just symbols, they're dead. And so much of our experience is intangible. So much of what we perceive cannot be expressed. It's unspeakable.

And yet, you know when we communicate with one another, and we feel that we've connected, and we think that we're understood, I think we have a feeling of almost spiritual communion. And that feeling might be transient, but I think it's what we live for.

I no longer recall the conversation, but I remember Claire complaining about something (probably about three years ago) and getting upset that I didn't understand something she was thinking that I simply should have known, I guess by osmosis. I quipped something about being unable to read people's minds, and she snapped back that it would be much easier if we could, which is what inspired the next line: "If god intended for us to understand each other, we wouldn't have voices!"

I had to look up the quote on my quotes page for exactness, but I'll never forget the lesson I learned that day: we communicate on the outside but we think on the inside, and therein lies the difficulty in construing messages as we intend. And I'm not just talking about words; the meanings of gestures and other symbols are at least as ambiguous as the meanings of the sounds that come out of our mouths.

Everyone's cognitive development takes place under different influences -- different environment, parents, peers, etc. -- therefore so does our linguistive development. This partially explains why different words and concepts connote slightly or wholly differently: we learn them under different circumstances, and it is our own experiences and the words we use to express ourselves that define any emotion or thought process. No one is raised exactly the same, so no one thinks exactly the same, so no one can possibly mean exactly the same thing even if they're using the exact same words.

But to be exact is to be ridiculously attentive to detail, and only linguists or philosophers are that obsessive, and only some of the time. Despite our complexity, we can come pretty close to understanding each other, and therein lies the beauty of our communication. Not only is there a psychological or intellectual response when a reaction indicates that a message was received as the communicator had intended it, but there is a certain emotion attached as well: it excites us in very personal ways when someone appears to understand us almost as well as we understand ourselves.

This is what I think the speaker says we are looking for at the conclusion of the monologue above: an emotional high that lowers our guard but also sets us at ease, because we think we may have found another person that truly understands not just our thoughts, but how we think.