08/23/2026
I've been thinking a lot lately about how much of our disagreement may begin with something deceptively simple: we don't always mean the same thing when we use the same words.
Language helps us differentiate the world. It lets us name patterns, communicate experiences, coordinate action, and create new possibilities.
But sometimes our distinctions become so familiar that we forget they are distinctions.
Words like God, consciousness, sovereignty, freedom, love, equality, and spirituality can carry entire histories of experience, identity, emotion, and belief. We may think we're arguing about an idea when we're actually responding to everything that particular word has come to mean within our own ecology.
What happens if, instead of immediately asking "Which definition is correct?", we become curious about what another person's language allows them to see that ours doesn't?
Perhaps the goal isn't to eliminate our distinctions.
Perhaps it's to become more flexible participants in our own meaning-making—to differentiate without fragmenting, form models without becoming imprisoned by them, and remain curious enough for two different maps to reveal something neither could show alone.
I wrote more about this today:
The Thing Is Always More Than the Word
How language organizes perception—and sometimes becomes the boundary of what we can see