On Expression, Composition, Thesauri, or How to Say It

It hovers just beyond the range of cognizance—that errant word, that synonym, or that extra shade of meaning necessary to most accurately convey a thought.  

When my brain fails to produce the appropriate term, I seek one on thesaurus.com.  My eyes glide over the options, their nuances slipping lightly across my mind, which evaluates and discards each faster than my heart can beat.  Possibilities emerge that might replace the inadequate term my brain can think of, but none match the nebulous concept in my mind.  If, instead, I consider changing the other instance of a redundancy, the different context makes different possibilities more fitting.  

Click by click, I select words closer to my meaning, ever scrutinizing the entries for the One.  That word finally found (or the necessity for it removed through rewording), another farther along the page inevitably eludes me, and my mind takes off in pursuit of it.  Sometimes my brain can arrive at a suitable option before I need to resort to the thesaurus, which distracts me with wonderful words as often as it aids my composition.

Eventually—somehow—from this chaotic, mental negotiation of terms, ideas coalesce in written form, often faster than one can relate the mental processes behind their creation. And eventually—somehow—an article, short story, novel, or blog post takes publishable form.

 

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If you're curious about the composition of the post above, read the following annotated version:

It hovers just beyond the range of conscious thought—that errant word, that extra shade of meaning necessary to most accurately convey a thought.  No, not “thought.”  I just used that word twice in close succession; I must find another.  But what?  Oh—and add “that synonym.”

          When my brain fails to produce the requisite an the appropriate... not “word.”  Let’s say “term,” I turn to, bring up, open, look in, use, make use of, seek one through on thesaurus.com.  My eyes glide over the... not “words” again.  Say “options.”   Their nuances... hmm... slip lightly into and out of across my mind, which miraculously It’s too common among humanity to be “miraculous.” ...unexpectedly My mind performed as expected, though. ...amazingly The brain is amazing, but does the word seem to convey pride in my brain rather than awe at brains in general--or surprise at my capacity as if it were ordinarily lacking?  Arg!   I’ll just leave out the adjective.  ...my mind, which evaluates and discards them each faster than my heart can beat while seated, at least.  

I note that “Amazing” sounds more positive than “astounding.”  Does it seem so for everyone?  How can I know whether my readers will share my same connotations?   “Awful” and “awesome” once meant nearly the same, but their meanings diverged due to connotations...

A conversation springs to mind—a frank discussion of swear words in the theater green room my freshman year of college.  My senior felt unoffended by X and shocked by Y; I perceived them in reverse.  Fascinating!

Oops—I’ve gotten distracted.

As I scan the thesaurus’s page, possibilities arise that might replace the inadequate term my brain can think of.  “...to accurately convey an...” idea, perception, concept, belief, vision... Erg.  All good words, but none precisely applicable.  Perhaps “thought” is the best word there; it covers all meanings implied by its possible potential replacements.  None match the nebulous concept in my mind.

If I, instead, consider changing the other instance of a redundancy, the different context makes different possibilities more fitting. “...the range of conscious...” speculation, understanding, deliberation, musing, grasp, comprehension, awareness, reason.  Perhaps even “...the range of conscious contemplation”?  Ha!  Alliteration!  But does it fit there?  Click by click, I choose select words closer to my meaning, my eyes ever seeking, delving, surveying, inspecting, scanning, scrutinizing the entries for the One.  Note to self: Nix “conscious thought” and write “cognizance.”  

The word for that concept That word finally found (or... what idea do I want to express?... the necessity for it removed through superior rewording), another farther along the page similarly inevitably eludes me, and my mind takes off in pursuit of it.  Sometimes my brain can arrive at a suitable option before I need to resort to the thesaurus, which distracts me with wonderful words as often as it aids my composition.  
          Eventually, somehow, miraculously, from this constant, chaotic, mental negotiation of terms, ideas ...coalesce, take shape, are refined, are communicated... take written form.  Faster than I can type, describe, explain the mental processes behind the writing ...not “process” again!  Thesaurus.... thesaurus....  ah!  Oh.  Well, those don’t help.  I’ll reword it.  Faster than I can relate the mental process behind the development of a piece of writing...  So chunky, so wordy!  I can do better.   The resultant, finished, final… no, wrong line of thought.  Let’s link it to the previous sentence with a comma.  , often, usually, one hopes, developing faster than I can relate the mental processes behind their creation.  A final edit proofing, and it’s done! And eventually, somehow, a understandable, sensible, logical, clear, comprehensible, lucid—not predictable, I should hope! writing work of literature is complete/completed takes publishable form.

On Wonder

            At rare moments, some ordinary thing catches our attention in such a way that it strikes us as completely novel and unusual; despite its commonness and our previous disregard for it, we abruptly discover it to be absolutely fascinating, and we pause to ponder at it in awe.  I treasure these almost surreal moments when I cease to take reality for granted and glimpse its true wonder.  

I’ve marveled during various times at the way rain falls so far yet lands so softly, at the way eggs grow into stiff white peaks when beaten, and at they way they help hold baked goods together—what genius or accident first added eggs to dough, anyway?  I’ve been captivated by the form of an infant, and the conception and growth of such a tiny, complex new life.  I’ve spent time reveling in the sensation of memory foam under my hand and sand between my toes.  I’ve admired the way hair isn’t all one color and how that color changes depending on light and dampness.  And toilet paper!  What an odd but useful concept. Consider erasers—wow!  

However, much is so beyond our comprehension that excessive reflection, rather than deepening our appreciation or revealing explanatory data, may make the wondrous seem insensible or ridiculous.  For instance, I recall a time waiting with friends during a particularly long Nutcracker ballet rehearsal when one of us commented how peculiar the word “the” is.  Its shape, its sound, its usage—our close examination of its oddities soon rendered it humorously absurd, and ever after, one of us would only have to whisper “the” to make the rest of us crack up.  Later, as an English major and now as a writing tutor, the word “the” has gained more meaning, yet it still seems peculiar and never ceases to intrigue me when I take the time to consider its existence and function.

As with the word “the,” education and understanding can’t quantify or mitigate wonder; only self-centeredness tries to do that.  Rather, a learned understanding of wondrous phenomenon may deepen our appreciation of its mysteries and majesty.  For example, even understanding the scientific explanation for phenomena like sunsets, what person with functional eyes doesn’t find them beautiful and feel amazed how the colors change and how the clouds texture and alter the shades?

Image courtesy of a Google search and hdw.eweb4.com

Regrettably, these moments of captivating clarity I’ve described occur with relative infrequency.  I suspect we tune out so many of the world’s wonders because we can only handle so much of it at a time.  Wonder widens our perspective and takes us beyond our Selves, breaking our illusion of control over our world.  This can frighten us, making us feel small and vulnerable.  Remembering this, it seems less peculiar, if no less sad, that some people avoid contemplating wonderful things.  

Realizations of wonder may also come infrequently since our minds must prioritize the basics: food, shelter, comfort, safety... Imagine if someone fleeing a hungry bear stopped dead to stare at ivy creeping up an oak and think, “how interesting!” and if when feeling a flash of pain thought only, “what a fascinating sensation!  I don’t enjoy this, but it’s so amazing, I want to explore it some more.”  Humanity would quickly become extinct!  

Too much wonder, too regularly, and we might also take this world and life more for granted than we do already.  Thus, on the whole, I suspect it’s good that we only get “sneak peeks” into the universe’s endless wonder.  These peeks are gifts that keep life interesting and that stir a longing in us for something beyond the mundane.  When you receive such a gift—a glimpse into the glory of the world’s Creator—do you pause to praise Him?

Do I, always?

On Frivolities

Our time on this earth seems too short or too long on given days; we speak of needing to “kill” time and yet regret “wasted” time; we often have so much to do and so little time, yet choose to spend hours in some less essential or frivolous pursuit to escape those responsibilities.  What fickle people we are! 

I’m one of those people who feels guilty when she takes a day to herself.  My husband does not—he can spend entire days gaming with not a twinge of regret.  I, however, feel compelled to accomplish.... something.  The basics of grooming and seeing to meals and the dishes isn’t even enough—I need to add to it laundry or cleaning or errands or exercise or visiting people or any of a long list of projects I’m involved with on my computer.  On days I get so engrossed in a book or useless project that I neglect undesirable work of a higher priority, self-hate follows as soon as I snap out of my activity’s grip.

I’m sure that, with a skilled apologist, few pastimes could be considered completely frivolous—at least in and of themselves.  One’s perspective on them depends upon context and, perhaps, comparison.  In a context in which a person must immediately attend to a job or bills or a leaky roof or a person who would not otherwise receive care, all other activities become frivolous (not to mention short-sighted or selfish).  Yet, in a context in which a person has no other responsibilities, personal pursuits have a more positive stigma.  Even then, however, compared with rescuing victims of an earthquake or witnessing to a neighbor or studying environmental conservation, certainly a selfish activity like reading a novel seems frivolous.  Yet, clarify that the reader is stressed to the point of rudeness or tears and that the book is relaxing, cheering, and giving the reader much-needed perspective on his problem, then that person’s context renders the activity far from frivolous.  Eight hours of novel reading, though, may seem excessive to accomplish his purpose.  Where does one draw the line and say “okay, time to get back to work” or “time to do something different”?  Who decides when guilt over such pursuits is deserved or unnecessary?

I can’t answer this question for all people and circumstances, but I will identify one clear sign that frivolities must give way to something more purposeful: a decline in mental, physical, or spiritual health.  That is, if a person’s “relaxation” turns into languor or depression from feeling useless, if a person neglects nutrition and hygiene and sanitation beyond a reasonable time, if a person grows self-centered and uncivil from becoming accustomed to only pleasing himself, and if a person begrudges God his time each day—then personal activities are truly frivolous.  At the first sign of decline, one should set personal pursuits aside and set about correcting the problem, whether it is to make an effort to eat right, to exercise, to clean, to visit with people, to do something that helps others, or most importantly, to speak with God.  
("Should"... yet oh, how the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak!)

"Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for." (attributed, among others, to Joseph Addison)

On House Searching

       Out they go in their suburban camouflage, armed with a realtor and stack of stats, hoping to take a shot at a nice, big one--they're house hunters!


       Yes, my husband and I are embarking on this new experience.  Are we likely to find our perfect dream house in our budget?  Heck, no!  Are we financially ready?  We hope so.  Are we looking forward to a house larger than our current 500 square feet?  Oh, yeah!
       Since we're new to all this, I can't presume to share any words of wisdom for other house buyers--though we've been receive a lot of advice, ourselves.  I can only express our understandably mixed excitement and trepidation:
       I really like the idea of better storage spaces, more and nicer kitchen counters, room for the dining table's full size and for a queen-sized bed, as well as an exercising space where I need not fear damaging the ceiling fans, the furniture, or my limbs.  Imagine!  We could actually entertain more than three people comfortably!

        However, what kind of home is best?  How much of our wish-list should we compromise?  Would it be better to build our own house?  Is home ownership only what we want, or is it also part of God's plan for us?  Is this a good investment, financially?  Will we be wise about choosing a home and taking on a mortgage, or are we getting caught up in materialism and unwise debt?  What's better--an older house with charm but in need of many little repairs, or a newer house in better condition but with fewer charm points?
        At this point, we have more questions than answers.  Whatever happens will be a learning experience, and we trust this school of hard knocks won't knock harder than God will enable us to handle.