“We control which words we use and what they mean,” Gabriel said to Lin, “but it’s easy to forget that words control us as well.”
“What? How?”
“It’s probably easiest if I demonstrate the concept of it.”
Gabriel asked Lin for a pen, and she brought one back from the kitchen.
“I’m going to write something on the box. All I ask is that you look at it.”
Gabriel pulled the pizza box over, closed it, and wrote the word “sex.”
Lin laughed out loud when she read it, and then she quit smiling and frowned. She looked up at Gabriel with eyes open wide.
“Gabby, I’m a little shocked. What are you getting at? When you were with me all those years, you never watched, did you? Or wait, do you mean . . . you can’t be thinking—”
“Lin, slow down. I meant absolutely nothing by it. It just happens to be a good word to explain my point.”
“And what exactly is your point?”
“That there are many different levels of perception when it comes to words. Other things, too, but for now, we’re talking about words.”
“What on Earth are you talking about?”
“That’s just a word written on a pizza box, but it affected you at a very high level. That’s where most people stay. That’s the effect many words have.”
“I still don’t know what you mean.”
“If I’m judging your reaction correctly, you immediately thought I was talking about something to do with sex and you and me. Whether I’d witnessed it, or . . . well, let’s not consider any other possibilities.”
Lin laughed, and Gabriel joined her.
“You saw it from a high level. As an idea. And even higher than that—you immediately tried to determine my purpose in communicating an idea. Now, think of the lowest possible level when your eyes observed what I wrote.”
“I’d see just a word, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, that’s lower.”
“I don’t—”
“You’d see a word and not wonder at all why I wrote it, but the word’s meaning would cause you to imagine something—I won’t ask what. But you wouldn’t wonder why I wrote it. That’s one step lower.
“Next, you’d see it and understand its meaning, but you would only read it and be aware of the word’s definition—you wouldn’t imagine anything.”
“That’s kind of impossible to get that low.”
“Oh, let’s go lower. Even if you tried as hard as you could, would you ever be able to look at it and not see a word? Could you see only individual letters and remain unable to see a word?”
Lin stared in silence until she could speak again.
“No, how could I?”
“That’s my point. Your mind keeps you at a higher level. But let’s go a step lower. Could you look at it and not even understand that those are letters? Could you make yourself see just lines and swirls and circles that don’t add up to anything?”
“No, how could—”
“Could you see those lines and swirls and circles and not understand that someone wrote them there?”
“Gabby—”
“Or could you look at it and not even comprehend that the box is white and the ink is black?”
“No, that’s—”
“Lin, could you look at it and not have a single thought about it? Not understand anything about it and just witness it?”
“No one could live like that.”
“No, because our world is built on the higher levels. It’s where we live.”
Lin stared in silence.
“And that’s just with your eyes.”
“What other—”
“Could you hear your language being spoken and not understand any of the words? If you wanted to, could you put aside that skill that you learned—that you weren’t born with—to the point where you only hear sounds that mean nothing? Can you turn that off if you wish?”
“No. No one can do that.”
“That’s the connection of words to your mind.”