HOW I CAME TO KNOW WHAT LANGUAGE IS

I climbed the sounds until I found a word. Then I played upon the shape of it as though it were a jungle gym or the playground monkey bars (sliding up and down and wiggling in and out the angles and curves) until it became as familiar as home: so that I would know it in the dark, recognize it in a fog.

Then growing more adventurous, I flew like the trapeze artist from word to word–sometimes to fall, tumbling into confusion only to land back where I had started. Yet the thrill of the flight would draw me back up onto the high platform to try again and again. I learned to balance upon the high wire, that taut string of words reaching from meaning to understanding. There I performed a delicate ballet: each step, each forward movement carefully executed following the narrow path.

Next I took to the suspended swinging rope: words in a flexible line that arched and wove around me. I swung outward till I stretched free of the rope into the bit of air circumferenced by the words. There I flew and danced while barely tethered to the line like a kite held to the earth by a string. Yet I was freer to explore the sky than any kite.

So, this is how I have come to know what language is. And the thrill of discovery still remains. With each day a new trick may be learned, while the danger now is more acute for no longer do I wear a safety harness, no more perform above a safety net.

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