Feelings without Words

I've been trying to keep up with reading a meditation by Krishnamurti each day. It is a book I purchased a while ago and recently found. I decided it was better for me to grab that first thing in the morning than my cell phone.

A recent meditation urged the reader to try to feel without naming the feeling. Krishnamurti says naming what you are feeling immediately separates you from it. It makes you an observer instead of allowing you to fully experience the emotion.

As someone who constantly examines what we have gained through the technologizing of the word and what we have lost, it is interesting to me to think of the word itself as the beginning of that chain of technology.

Writing, the printing press, the Internet - each of these technological advancements has allowed us more connectivity but each one challenges us to remember (and think?) less. Did the development of a spoken language have similar costs and benefits?

We need words not for ourselves, but to connect with each other. We use words to tell each other what we feel, to use Krishnamurti's example. And as long as we can't actually be in each other's minds, talking to one another may be the best way to try and understand how another person feels.

Now think about this - we created language to communicate with each other. But, how often do you think without words? I almost never do and I find it very difficult. So why are we always talking to ourselves? Why do we name what we are feeling, when we have the real genuine feeling going on inside of ourselves right this minute. Why look at the substitute instead of the real thing?

Words are funny. They can help us come closer to meaning, but they can also separate us from it. Maybe as a librarian and storyteller I'm not supposed to say that. Really, I think there is a place for all these things. The digital word, the printed word, the spoken word, and no word at all.

The Folklore Around Growing Up

I was thinking recently about one of the rhymes my friends and I used to say during hand-clapping games when I was in elementary school.

Miss Susie had a steamboat.
The steamboat had a bell.
Miss Susie went to heaven.
The steamboat went to...

Hello, operator,
Please give me number nine.
And if you disconnect me,
I'll kick you from...

Behind the 'frigerator,
There was a piece of glass.
Miss Susie sat upon it,
And broke her little...

Ask me no more questions.
I'll tell you no more lies.
The boys are in the bathroom,
Zipping up their...

Flies are in the meadow.
The bees are in the park.
I saw two people kissing,
In the D-A-R-K, D-A-R-K,
Dark, dark, dark!

Dark is like a movie.
A movie's like a show.
A show is like a TV.
I know, I know, I know.

I know I know my ma.
I know I know my pa.
I know I know my sister,
With the eighty meter bra!

First of all, notice how sound-reliant this is. "Naughty" words are implied at the end of most sections. We know what these words are thanks to the context and the expected rhyme. But then the next section begins with a word that sounds similar.

What I also think is interesting about this rhyme is that it reveals some of the curiosity children have about growing up. It is exciting just to see people kissing. Big sister wears a bra and would probably be embarrassed by the suggestion that it is eighty meters long. Or maybe it just seems that big compared to the training bra of a pre-teen.

This got me thinking about other child folklore that is specific to this transitional age. There is a joke I remember from my childhood that I've wondered whether I would hear from a student. Of course I haven't. It is too "dirty." I'm sure some of them know, if not this joke, one like it. But they aren't about to repeat it to a teacher. (Probably a good thing for them and for me).

An American traveling in a foreign country came to a city ruled by a king. The king had one daughter and no other children. He was very concerned with continuing his family line. So, he had decreed that whomever could get his daughter pregnant could marry her and become the next king.
The American thought he would give it a try. The king spoke some English and they were able to make the arrangements. The daughter did not speak English, but she understood what was going on, so the American figured that wouldn't be a problem.
He spent the night with the king's daughter. They started having sex and the young woman cried out, "Na-panly!" [The joke-teller makes up a foreign-sounding word.] The American didn't know what that meant, so he kept going. She cried out again, "Na-panly! Na-panly!"
In the morning the king asked the American how the night went. The American answered that everything seemed to be fine and he expected he would prove to be the next king. But, he did have one question. The king's daughter had repeatedly said, "Na-panly." He wondered what that meant.
The king gave the American a critical look and told him he would certainly not be the next king. "Na-panly" means "wrong hole."

As an adult, I find this joke fascinating. It relies entirely on an inexact knowledge of sex for it's humor. With the exception of those so mystified by the female anatomy they honestly believe someone could mistake one orifice for another, most adults realize this mistake simply doesn't happen. But a tween who knows just a little bit about sex could totally buy it.

Children who are on the cusp of growing up seem to create their own category of folklore that allows them to "talk" about slightly uncomfortable topics without really talking about them. They aren't getting good information this way, but maybe laughter is helping to ease their tension.