The Languages We Don’t Understand
No one will ever understand us. No one. The sooner we realise that, the sooner our worlds become peaceful and happy.
The world we see is not what others see. We can use words they understand, images they can grasp and symbols they know and yet they do not know – they do not know what we’re talking of. Our world will never come alive for them as it does for you, no matter your skill at communication.
Let me give you three stories about this:
The first story was when I was asking my doctor for a Care Plan which, in Australia, is a prescription for five free session with chosen therapists. I asked for five sessions with a chiropractor and he suddenly stopped typing and stared at me.
“But chiropractors work on your back. That’s no use for your knees,” he said, staring at me as if I’d just bitten off the head of a snake. His apparent ignorance amazed me. Why? Because he’s both an educated doctor and he’s Chinese. I had assumed he knew about meridians and how everything in the body is connected to everything else – push a spot on the sole of the foot and it helps the liver, massage a part of the hand and that helps the spleen and so on. His question stopped me in my tracks and I instantly realised his world was different from mine. I could have tried to explain what my world looked like but, because of story three, below, I knew it would be a wasted exercise. So I insisted, insisted and insisted and he eventually write me a script for a chiropractor, all the while looking sideways at me with a look that said, oh, poor, stupid Philip.
Secondly, I went from that doctor to a naturopath and told her of my recent experience. She chuckled and told me she has exactly the same awkward experiences with her doctor and often came away feeling angry, which her husband tells her is her fault – she knows the view her doctor has of life and shouldn’t be surprised he doesn’t suddenly see it her way just because she wants him to.
It's like becoming angry with a Mongolian for not understanding English and talking to him louder and louder in English and then getting angry when he still doesn’t understand your English.
The third story happened a long time ago when I did a two-day men’s workshop in Auckland, New Zealand. In a part of the workshop we were asked to write a letter to our fathers. While some others wrote vile and hateful letters to the fathers they hated, I found myself writing a poem, telling my father that I loved him and asking him to tell me about himself – his dreams, disappointments, aspirations and what got him up most mornings. It was a love letter to him, asking if I could get to know him better.
I held onto that letter for several months, really wanting to send it to him, while fearing his reaction. Eventually, I realised the Earth wouldn’t implode if I sent it so, found the courage to post it to him. Then I waited … and waited and waited and, suddenly, nothing happened. No response to it. Over that few months I we several phone calls and he didn’t mention the poem and I was too afraid to ask what he thought. So, eventually, I found another pinch of courage and, on the next phone call to him, I asked him what he thought of the poem I sent him.
“Oh, that,” he said, dismissively, “not bad but there’s some grammar you need to look at and don’t you think line three would be better after line five and it would flow better if every second line rhymed, like proper poetry.” He continued for about five minutes, pointing out grammatical, syntax and spelling improvements I could make.
I was hugely disappointed that he couldn’t talk about the content of my love letter to him and quickly realised I had learned a new language that he hadn’t – it was the language of emotions and feelings.
Like the Mongolian, it was no use me yelling louder and louder in this new language that I had learned – he would never understand.
I’ve realised it’s really healthy to realise that no one speaks our language … well, not exactly as we understand it. It saves us wasting our breath and getting angry and a whole breath of fresh air and peace enters our soul and psyche when we let go the need to have everyone understand us.
Aaahhh … whew!