Untitled
I want to be untitled. I don’t want a name. I don’t want anyone to be able to identify me. Am I nina if nina is not my name if I don’t have a name? Is my name doing anything for me besides differentiating me from Jenny?
There should be a ceremony when you turn eighteen where you get to rename yourself. I didn’t choose this name. I actually like my name though, but what of people who hate their names? Should they have to live that way forever?
What’s in a name? Shakespeare asked that. It’s just a symbol after all. All words are is symbols for the real thing. They are not the thing itself. Like a bird. I was watching Oprah and she said when you tell a child that a bird is called a bird, the child never sees the actual bird again.
Because all they are seeing is the symbol for bird, the word. They cannot see the thing itself if they are obsessed with its name. We are obsessed with the name of things, the name of thoughts in particular.
Like if you look at a tree and all you think about is the word tree, then you see the notion of a tree but not this particular unique tree itself with all its magnificence and beauty.
What does the word anger mean? Does the word really cover all that anger is? Anger is so complex and deep and passionate, can just those five letters cover it? Yet we think we cannot feel a thing unless we can name it, and then when we name it, we are now labeling it. One t
Another very interesting thing about words is, who decided that a table was going to be called a table and why did we all listen to this person? Who made up the names? How did they become standard? Where there a memo sent around to everyone that the thing that you eat on is now going to be called a table?
If we didn’t have these words, would we still be able to communicate with one another? I think we would find a way if we didn’t have words. Maybe we would find a more creative way to say things to each other.
Don’t bees do a dance to each other in order to communicate? We should dance to each other instead of talking so much. One word can have so many different shades and angles of meaning that it is hard to communicate what we are thinking with just words.
I say this as I am using words. But maybe I could say what I really mean better with some other form of communication. I have a love-hate relationship with language. I love using it and I need to use it, however, I also find that it is very limiting. Am I really saying what I want to say with only words at my disposal?
I think there are ways we communicate with feelings, like telepathically. The way we communicate with animals. Dogs know what you are trying to say to them with a look or a nod of the head. They probably understand words, but I think the energy you give them may mean more.
Just like the way you communicate with a newborn baby. They don’t understand language, but they understand your tone and your facial movements. Before a baby talks, we are communicating telepathically with her. The baby is using its feelings to understand us.
What if we did that more? We talk so much. I say this as I am talking and talking here. But maybe we overstate the matter. Maybe we are using too much language when fewer words are required to say what we want to say.
If I as a person, wanted to identify with a word I guess I would want to be beautiful. Not just physically but as a whole person. But what does beautiful mean? It is such a loaded word, everyone’s notion of beauty is different. I may be beautiful to some and repulsive to others.
I feel like all I do in my life is say, say, say. Am I really living or am I just talking about living? Am I using the language of life but not actually living it? How much of our experience is dictated by what we are told, by the words other people have said about it?
Are we just a product of language in general? Do we have an identity and experience outside of language? Would I be a thing even if I couldn’t name it if I couldn’t put it into words?
I cannot put into words what I cannot put into words. There are things I cannot say. There are feelings I cannot describe. No matter how many words are at my disposal. Some things are just better unsaid and just lived.
Would we know god better if we didn’t have a name for her? Does the word god embody the omnipotent and pure love that god is? In my religion, Sikhism, there is a notion that we should remember god’s name. We can use any name. But what if the name itself is getting in the way of us understanding god? Perhaps the experience of god has no name.
Sometimes experience is louder than any words.
Maybe I can’t talk about this anymore but you know what I mean?
Do you know what I mean?
Or do I have to say it?
nina