Metaphors, the Chi of Language

Recently, I have been spending a good deal of time with metaphors.  Figurative language (metaphors, similes and analogies, for the most part) makes reading and hearing much more interesting and provides depth and breadth that mere prose will never have.  Here's an example, as illustrated by the author of a book I picked up recently on figurative language.  He says you can make the same point in two different ways--first, using ordinary prose, you can state your message simply and directly as follows:

A committee is a questionable mechanism for making decisions or solving problems.

Using figurative language, the same point can be expressed as below:

A committee is a cul-de-sac down which ideas are lured and then quietly strangled.

The latter approach, using figurative language, in this case a metaphor, says so much more, elevating the point in a very memorable way.

I've found I have to approach this from three different directions to pull it all together, so bear with me for a bit.  First, we have to crack open the door of brain research just a bit.  Opening it wide would take forever, which is why this little journey of mine has taken so long, and kept me blocked for weeks.  How can you explain the marvel of speech, which man alone has?

It's amazing how quickly a child picks up language and puts it to use.  Then we add in figurative language (which can make talking to toddlers totally transforming).  Before they get the hang of literal speech completely (if that can ever be said to happen completely), we start in with these toddlers with figurative speech.  We don't literally mean what we say--"all hands on deck" means more than just sending up the hands and leaving behind the bodies, after all, and "stop it" doesn't really mean to become perfectly still.  Soon we are substituting parts for the whole, and saying "walk this way," when we might mean to follow us, and not to walk on our tiptoes or all bent over.

(Oh, I can't help myself, here's a timely one:

Politicians are like diapers,

They should be changed frequently— 

And for the same reason.

                                                -ROBIN WILLIAMS)

But there is an even more difficult thing that most humans learn early, and that is to feel another's pain when we see them experience it.  Seeing a person fall will often cause us to feel pain and/or anguish just watching, without falling ourselves.  It turns out the brain doubles up and uses the same part of the brain to process our own pain and that we see another experience.  The anterior cingulate evaluates both the direct experience of our own pain and that which we feel when others experience pain;we see a child fall down.

Neuroscientists have established experimentally that the human brain links the real and the metaphorical as well.  Test subjects who have held a cup of hot coffee are more likely to rate a person they encounter moments later in a story as having a warmer personality than do subjects who hold a cup of iced coffee in their hands; they will subsequently rate the person in the same story as having a cold and aloof personality.  Even an experimental subject handed a resume on a heavier clipboard will perceive the candidate as "more serious" than one represented in a resume attached to a lighter clipboard.  It seems the human brain readily confuses reality and literalness with metaphor and symbol.  Is it because of this tendency of the human brain to assign "double duty: to some of its parts?

Now let's take a look at the effect of context on this metaphorical capacity that we have.  It appears that metaphors we drop into our speech are often influenced by one or more of the following contexts: the speaker (or writer), the person addressed and the subject matter being written about.  Almost unconsciously the athletes among us insert metaphors that use expressions unique to the sport in which they engage quite ofter.  Baseball players will bat around an idea, swimmers will float a possible solution to the members of a group, be they swimmers or not.  Writing a headline for a sports story?  You are more likely to say the Broncos rode all over the Panthers than to simply say the Broncos defeated the Panthers.

(Uh, Oh, here I go again, politics is just on my mind these days, you know?  I live in South Carolina, so we just finished our primary season yesterday.  When your primary season arrives, remember this one:

Washington is to lying as Wisconsin is to cheese.

                                                -DENNIS MILLER)

We naturally do these things to make our speech more meaningful, to grasp and hold the attention of our audience, to convey s deeper or more complex meaning.  Prosaic speech that merely recites the facts literally will often lose its audience more quickly than speech that contains this living, changing kind of speech that can be felt or understood on multiple levels.  You make the choice when you speak or write.  Because--

Life's like a taxi ride, the meter keeps on ticking, whether you're getting anywhere, or just standing still.  

Our brains it seems, are made to metaphor.  Our brains naturally seem to allow us to relate to metaphors, similes and the like.  As precise as the brain can be sometimes, it can be guilty of approximating much of the time.  Metaphors are but one example.  But this double-use of the brain, and the easy way that our context provides us the material from which to make the metaphors are there for everybody.  So why do some of us use this sort of form to broaden the meaning of their speech while others do not?

(Here it comes again....  Football season, like South Carolina's primary season is finally over, but this one feels pretty timely:

Being in Politics is like being a football coach.

You must be smart enough to understand the game,

And dumb enough to think it’s important.

                                                -EUGENE MCCARTHY)

Are those who are not given to metaphor missing something?  Are they just more literal about life? Do they lack imagination?  Maybe those that come up with metaphors and analogies are different in some way.  

Maybe this is some strange form of chi that affects only some of us?  Chi is energy, life-force.  It is usually cultivated by a discipline like yoga, tai chi, Qigong.  mental focus and breathing

I like the latter explanation better,  It seems that the ability to create and comprehend metaphors greatly enhances understanding.  Richer language, insightful comparisons, and the blessed relief of humor come to mind.  Does chi behave this way?

I started digging into the background of Chi in Eastern thought, and it was not even aa half an hour later that I unearthed this little gem: "Studying this literature, we realize that the idea of relating chi and breath is as old as time itself.  In Sanskrit, prana (or chi) means "ultimate energy"and when used in context with living organisms, it is recognized as the 'vital animating force'  in living things.  Ever since that time, practitioners have believed that it was necessary to breathe to acquire this force, so the ultimate relationship between the act of breathing and staying alive and well was established."  Really?  This idea is as old as time itself--breathing and staying alive are related?  

Thankfully, I won't go on here to allow you to see just how little I have learned about Chi, but I do think the metaphor of figurative language as the Chi of language.  Think about it, then go take a walk and breathe!

Some Truth About Curmudgeonism

I am now at an age where reforming my actions and words so that I no longer utter anything but the truth, will cause me to be labeled a curmudgeon.  If a glass is half-empty and I describe it as such, I am being negative.  If it started out full, and now half of it is gone, that is half-empty!  I agree that if it began half-full, and added enough water, it would be full.  If it began half full and appeared to be adding water, I would acknowledge when it was halfway there, I would say it is half-full.  If it starts out half-empty and the rest is poured out, is it not empty?  If it is heading in one direction or the other, why not offer the clue as to what you see going on—that glass is emptying, and it’s halfway there.  Hmmm, there seems little doubt that so some, I am becoming a curmudgeon (defined, with the help of my friends at Google as“a person, especially an old man, who is easily annoyed or angered and who often complains").  

Given the obvious sexism that allows curmudgeon to be labeled as a male in most definitions, I now prefer the term disambiguationist—one who simply makes things clearer by removing ambiguity (perhaps even telling the truth).

With all that said, I want to acknowledge something, politicians are liars—we all have seen this.  So, when one politician accuses another of lying, why is that a noteworthy comment?  They all lie.  But what about lying about one’s opponent, is that less than acceptable?  Is the other person’s integrity (or lack thereof) some sort of sacred ground?  Yes, he lied.  So did the guy who accused him of lying.  Is there a ranking of lies that would guide us toward the better person for the job?  A first-degree liar would be preferred over a second-degree one?  Looking past that little swamp of idealistic illusion, is lying ok if the one lying is my guy?  I don’t mind a liar, as long as he’s on my side?  Hence, whoever is elected would become my kind of person, a liar who is lying for me.  He’s lying about the ever-increasing national debt.  But, I can have this benefit or avoid this unfavorable outcome if I go along with the lie.  Oh my, the election season, which grows longer each time around, brings out the curmudgeon in me, and that’s the truth.

OK, OK, I Do Have A Valentine

Here’s to Sheila, my lovely wife

Who, since agreeing to be my Mrs.

Has had to live a wandering life

And live in strange places like this is.

In truth, I do not really deserve

The love of this special girl

I know not what gave me the nerve

To ask her to marry, but she gave it a whirl

Still on Valentine's Day not a present or

Card,

Though God only knows she has worked very hard.

Alas, she's put in the hours

But still must get her own flowers.