#hippopotamous

Studies

Language is a means by which us conscient beings attempt to communicate our most complex emotions.  Words are beautiful lines of poetry.  They are melodious song lyrics, riveting stories, and inspirational speeches.  We hope that our last words will be rife with meaning so we will be remembered for eternity.  Words are also the vehicle for hatred and anger. They have declared war, taken lives, and broken families.  It was with two simple words that my parents promised their lives to one other. It was with many, repeated words that my brother and I consoled my crushed mother after their divorce.

In French, there is one verb "aimer" to express both the actions of liking and loving. To differ between the two depends on intonation and context.

But this is the beauty of a word.  Yes, perhaps language is a clumsy and flawed means by which we try to reveal our thoughts and feelings.  No doubt, I usually sound like a fool when I talk.  But this is what makes a word unique to each of us, gives a word its ability to adapt and change.  And it makes it all the more special when we find someone else who understands our jargon.

It was with words of joy that my mother and stepfather called me last week from Nepal to describe their first time paragliding in the Himalayas.  It was with tears that my father whispered prideful words when I left home.  Unlike in the French language, for me “love” is a very different word than “like.”  I like doughnuts.  I do not like walnuts very much.  But I love my dog.  I also love being alive and the uncertainty that I encounter each day.