cthewind's Blog

Every-body who speaks the “same” language weaves the words available into textures, tones, and patterns. Words, though sometimes chosen precisely according to intended meaning or purpose, are more often assembled according to habit—cozy comforts in an excessive world.

Word choice can enflame the passions of speaker and listener, convincing them they are far apart, with little life to build between them. As listeners, especially, we can fall prey to receiving the words of a speaker as their proclamations of truth about the world rather than their testimony of their experiences in the world.

What could change if, as listeners, we became curious about the experiences of speakers in the world, rather than getting hung up on their words?

Our curiosity, exercised in care, as the word suggests, would lead us to translate their words in our hearing and ask questions about what their words mean to them.

If we think of it at all—the “it” being translation—we think of it between two different languages. I begin with “if” because I’m quite aware, as a speaker of English, many of us don’t think of “it” at all.

If we do, though, we may prioritize equivalence, sameness. This word for that, interchangeable, “same difference.”

Of course, engage in the work of translation at all, and you quickly realize there are few equivalents and many, many choices to make that will affect meaning. In every step there is interpretation.

This is actually always the case with words. Even within the “same” language.

In fact, the need for translation is sometimes stronger within a language, since we begin with the assumption we will understand one another and can be slow to catch when we don’t.

Translation as a listener is necessary, lest you resist the speaker at the level of truth.

As a speaker, you may also choose to translate your thoughts before sharing them, out of compassion for your listener, whom you suspect may not word the world the same as you do.

And what will carry me across to you

Or bear you to me

A straight line is not always the fastest way from person A to person B

An ocean lies between us—a vastness of experience, yawning with intention

Or a thicket—overgrown in efforts to protect, resist, stay whole

Or possibly a riddle too clever for the novices we are, one to another

Across the terrain from you to me or me to you requires translation

Conveying precious cargo, laden with meaning

Bearing the weight of being

Disguised by words we recognize, yet spoken in unfamiliar terms

A boat of care is what I’ll use, since sailing on words is what I do