If We Could See Our Words

Photo of a lion on a cold day by Tambako the Jaguar on Flickr CC BY-ND-2.0

If you live in a warm climate, there are a few things you’re missing out on.

One of them is the ability to see your own breath.

(You’re also missing out on high heating bills in winter, backaches from shovelling snow, and frostbitten fingers, but I think you can do without those things!)

Why can we sometimes see our breath in cold climates?

With the combination of cold outdoor temperatures and the right humidity, your breath condenses as it is exhaled. It then appears as a misty cloud being emitted from your mouth.

It got me thinking: wouldn’t it be helpful if we could see our own words, too, and not just our breath?

By that I mean, if only we could see in physical form how our words affect others, we’d think twice about what we say.

If words came out of our mouth visibly shaped like the weapons they often are, we’d probably be horrified. If we saw what appeared to be daggers or fists hurtling toward the other person, we’d want to take back what we’d just said.

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When Words Fail Us

English Dictionaries. Photo by John Keogh on Flickr. CC BY-NC-2.0

Sometimes there’s something we want to express, but we can’t seem to find the right term for it. There’s a feeling or situation that we just can’t put into words. Or maybe the precise word doesn’t even exist in English.

On occasion we have to turn to words and phrases in other languages to describe exactly what we’re trying to say. For instance, in English we often borrow the German word “schadenfreude,” which means “pleasure at the misfortune of others”.

Maybe we should consider borrowing a few more foreign words that have no English equivalent. I suggest the following:

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