myth for purslane

There was a time when everyone spoke the same language. Or rather, everyone understood all languages, and could respond in any dialect they liked, in this way there were no strangers.

Until one man woke up from a dream where he had been given a language that was altogether different. But it wasn’t a language. It was a way of thinking about speech, or, not thinking about it, as the case may be.

And in this not thinking about other languages, an entirely new language proposed itself that would be the only language, which is what language was trying to be anyway - he reasoned. Aren't we all just looking for one word for each thing? He thought.

But he could not begin to separate himself knowing all of language before he separated a part of himself too. He took his memories of what it takes to comprehend languages and dialects and he buried it deep in the ground and went on with his life ‘not’ understanding people. He didn’t understand people who lived in the mountain or in the forest, or in the desert, which were all far from his home. He didn’t understand birds because they looked different. He didn’t understand plants because they spoke very slowly. All of these things he didn’t understand, and so in this way he created a language that was by definition ‘not’ understanding the profusion of voices around him.

So everyone had to spend a lot more time explaining all kinds of things. This got tiring for some. But it made him feel very powerful because people were paying attention to him. And when someone feels powerful, well, then people started asking him how he got to feel that way, which he told people eagerly. And so taught them how to ‘not understand’ as well. This was how the process of separating languages began.

This was a very long time ago. And it’s hard to remember sometimes, that language is a universal and complex thing which we can understand in our bones if we pay close attention. Rather than one word for one thing, there are one thousand ways to describe relationships between that thing and the world.

But this man’s memories and knowledge were not dead though they were separated from him. They grew up and out in all directions until they became a lush purslane plant. This one plant is more than a memory. It is a teacher who reminds us of the whole breadth of understanding that is available to us. Though it isn’t flashy, true understanding takes a quiet sensitivity. So when you see this plant, which is hard to make out among the greenery, you will begin to learn the many many languages of the world.