MENTIONING MATTERS

by Hugh M. Lewis

The way that can be spoken of is not the constant way:

The name that can be named

Is not the constant name.

The nameless was the beginning of heaven and earth;

The named was the mother of the myriad creatures.

Hence always rid yourself to have desires in order to observe its secrets;

But always allow yourself to have desires in order to observe its manifestations.

(Verse I of Book 1 of Tao Te Ching, C.D. Lau, 1963: 57)

Discourse gives form and substance to things only imagined, and in doing so blurs the distinction between what is real and what is fantasy. Speaking words out loud confers credibility to our beliefs and thoughts, and renders them susceptible to social validation and legitimization. The spoken word at once clarifies and obfuscates, creating the possibility for both truth and falsehood in the same instance. The word, once uttered, cannot be taken back or recovered, and leads to unexpected consequences beyond our control. It is lost forever in the world. Our words are always the source of much paradox. Complete truth is never possible with words, but any truth is also impossible without them.

Words create power not only through their expressive affirmation of inner human identity in the world, but by the capacity for significant communication by which social constraint, conformity, coordination and control of social behavior is achieved. The expressive and communicative functions of discourse, and the texts that are the by-products and reifications of such discourse, constitute the dialectical extremes of a single language continuum.

No discursive act or text is purely expressive or purely communicative, though some forms such as poetry may be more one than the other. Enhancing the expressiveness of the enactment of discourse may be had only at cost to the potential communicative efficacy of the message. Either way, the play of words in expression of the human imagination and in the social construction of reality becomes unavoidable play with a crucial instrument of human reality.

Language and its restriction or promotion becomes a critical source and functional instrument of power in the world. Exclusion of people from normal dialogue is a source of denial of the very humanness of those people. Language used in this way concretizes, reifies, legitimates. It is language, in its definition and forming of the person's subjective basis and experiences in life, which constitutes the very foundation of humanness and humanity.

Language can be used to imprison, and it can be used to liberate. It can be an instrument of unpower and freedom as well as one of unfreedom and power. Words used freely, openly and independently are the principle vehicle of expression for thoughts and imaginings that are free and independent. Because deeds soon follow words, suppression of open speech and dialogue is tantamount to the repression of thought itself.

It is the power of language that renders it something relative to the speaker and its speech contexts. If language were the same for all humankind, if there were a tower of Babel, then its differences, variation and diversity would be inconsequential as a means of separation, unity, as a means or an end of power. That language is such a central and critical instrumentality of power--in court rooms, in government, in newspapers, in everyday life--can be taken as evidence of its differences constituting something that is relative in the world.

The way weaves between words and the pages upon which they are written, but it is these words which must mark the way. Following the way depends upon the open and independent use of words in nonconformity to any established sanctions. It is a basic exercise in mental and verbal freedom. It is a form of freedom of action and liberty that is inherent to earth being. It is in the discovery of the importance of language in our world and in our lives that we discover as well our own sense of humanity and by which we find our way in the world.

with these words I write

I sketch my own identity

a simple name that saves my soul

and gives my spirit a frame of meaning

from the absolute anonymity

of an indifferent world

while I write the words flow forth

and the pages pile upon one another

like all the many passing days

to eventually become forgotten

and lost beneath the growing mountain

the thin line of ink upon plain paper

all that separates us from the beasts

words that make and break us

paper and ink realities that people fight and die for

that make people rich and powerful

or imprison people in an impoverished world

it is paper that purifies us

and legitimates us

and makes us significant in the world

the strange paradox of a thin paper world

that is so combustible and prone to destruction

without words

we are lost

in the world

words illuminate

the surrounding darkness

like the flame of a candle

casting forth its feint light

but it blinds us to the shadows

that dance beyond the reach

of the candlelight

and to the stars

that shine in the night

better to be lost in the darkness of the way

than to be enlightened along the wrong way

colorful parasols

bobbing up and down

in gray sullen skies

rain dripping from the barren branches

cars splashing along the streets

umbrellas in every shade and hue

blue, red, green and white

drifting in the wind

a colorful parade

an overcast promenade

stepping diligently between the puddles

there is nothing so hard

that it will not eventually crack

beneath the weight of time

and eventually wear away into sand

that blows into the wind

like stone we may seem to be

but like water will we find our way

to the single common source of our being

so it is that our strengths are our weaknesses

and our weakness is our strength

truth blows whichever way

with the changing winds

wisdom dwells beneath the surface of the water

beneath the reflections cast upon its waves

spare the world

the sense of social justice

which seeks in others

the source of our own suffering

allowing us to commit so much wrong

in the name of what seems too right

which makes us segregate realities

in terms so black and white

all the wrong in the world

does not measure up

against our own self-serving righteousness

that sees in other's gain

our own potential loss

and other's loss as our own gain

it is all to easy to find in others

what we fail to find in ourselves

We say good-bye once again

both of us are honest enough

to know these are our last words together

for a brief spell along our way

our paths have come together

and we have come to share what is in our hearts

we both know there is no turning back

so many good-byes

so many yesterdays and tomorrows

when all we have together

is just this day

familiar friends we've become

soon to be strangers

along our separate ways.