What We’ve Got Here Is Failure to Communicate

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about relationships. Not just romantic ones (although certainly those are nice), but any kind of relationship. Friends. Parents. Lovers. Siblings. As a species, we have created, more so than any other, expansive, complicated forms of communication. We have developed language. The possibilities that unfold from that are endless.

Think about it. I can stand at the edge of a forest and gaze upon a beautiful tree. Because of language, I can tell a friend about my experience. Based on a common understanding of an intricate system of encoding and decoding meanings, my friend will know what the word ‘tree’ represents. I don’t have to point a tree out to him. Not only can I communicate the object I wish to, I can express what I felt like standing there looking at the tree, the way the sun reflected off the leaves, the smell that floated through the air.

But even with this amazing system that gives meaning to objects, thoughts, emotions, memories, distance, etc, there is still an abyss between what I know – my innermost self – and what I can share with others. No matter how eloquently I describe the tree, even if I write a beautiful poem or paint a vivid picture, none of it will compare to my actual experience of standing at the forest in front of the tree. It won’t put my friend there with me.

Beyond that, even if my friend had been directly at my side for the whole experience, they still wouldn’t have the same understanding of it as me. The sight of the tree could recall a similar one I saw once on a fall day out east, the smell of the woods could remind me of warm childhood days. A thousand and one memories and emotions could flood my consciousness that would be impossible to put into words. In the end, no matter how many languages we speak, no matter how many ways there are to connect with someone on the other side of the world (hell, even the room), there is always a gap that can’t be crossed.

I guess you really never can tell what someone else is thinking.

It becomes impossible to adequately express what someone else means to you. I can tell someone I love them, but what if it doesn’t mean the same thing to them as it does to me? They can’t climb inside my head and see just how that emotion feels in every corner of my body. They don’t really understand that when I speak those words, they come from the truth of my soul.

This gap, this space between ourselves is a constant struggle to bridge. But even so, it is a gap I am determined to narrow. Each day, we grow closer and closer to each other. Sometimes the structure of language lays itself out before us and brings us to new destinations. Other times, we cross the gap in other ways. A tender moment. A reassuring touch. Shared breath. Belly laughs. And the hopeless trust that says even as we struggle in a confusing and isolated world, we will go through this life together, and we will be kind to each other.