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    #45 The tragedy of the spoken word

    Language helps us describe the world we perceive. Yet in doing so, it closes our eyes, our ears, our touch, and our heart to the parts of the world we don’t have words for.

    Every language is a lens on a felt reality within and around us – both clarifying and categorizing the world, and limiting it by the words it has available.

    Learning more languages gives you new lenses – and a richer sense of reality.

    But just like the structure of our ears limit the sounds we can hear, and the structure of our eyes limit colors we can see, the structure of any language somehow limits our felt experience of the world.

    How do we re-access memories, emotions, hidden away in a long-forgotten language?

    How do we re-learn to listen to the voices of the wordless world speaking to our animal self… the voices that once upon a time, before verbal language emerged, were all we had?

    there’s an eternal song
    drowned out by the confines of my mother tongue
    a wordless melody that once made sense
    until our brain started blurring it with a lens
    narrowing it down
    neglecting its nuances through verbs and nouns

    with all its might language wants us to abide
    but the wordless world it tries to hide
    will forever be inside

    Lukas Van Vyve
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    #137 Until here and no further

    I’ll never believe I can write until I allow myself to write.

    I’ll never believe I can grow my body stronger until I allow myself to do do something consistently to grow my body stronger.

    I’ll never believe I can mend a mistreated mind until I allow my mind to be mended.

    I’ll never believe I can heal a broken heart until I allow myself to start loving again.


    You don’t start doing something because you believe you can do it.

    You do it because you find leverage to allow yourself to do it, even if it feels outside your comfort zone.

    Until here, and no further.

  • #33 There’s power in publishing imperfect work.

    656 days ago, I started writing 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day.

    That’s an inner dialogue of 1968 pages poured into piles of journals now safely stuffed away.

    30 days ago, some of those thoughts started making their way to my blog.

    I promised myself that if I made it to 30 daily posts in a row, I would start sharing them.

    Today is the day, so here goes.

    I’m sharing daily observations about language, language learning, memory, creativity, habits, discipline, the art of learning, tools for thought.

    Lessons I’ve learned.
    Insights I’ve earned.

    Words I’ve heard.
    Memories spurred.

    Books I’ve read.
    Poems flowing out of my heart and head.

    No rules, no fixed topic, no niche, no marketing strategy.
    Nothing but whatever’s on my mind.

    I’ve learned a lot so far, but the most important insight: there’s power in publishing imperfect work.

    Because if I allow myself to create something imperfect every day, I’m certain that someday the sum of all these imperfect creations will be something I’m proud of.

    It’s liberating.

    Maybe there’s liberating power in reading someone else’s imperfect work too.

    I can’t wait to find out together with you.

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