Language, Gife-Liver


Do you remember the recent decision by the British people to leave the EU? Of course you do. Do you remember what that was called? Of course you do.

Now that some dust has settled, I examine the processes before, during, and after “Brexit” with a particular lens:

I hypothesize that language can give life to things.


Consider something that is not. Impossible? Debatable, but unlikely. Language serves as a function that inputs something and gives it “realness” or “life” in our minds. That realness serves as a recipient grasped by our mental actions. For our purposes, if a vote by a nation of people to change a policy significantly affects economies, ideologies, and perceptions, then “Brexit”, and thus language, is real enough to matter.

Having the word “tree” consolidates sensory data in a way that encourages us to notice manifestations of the word in the form of patterns usually found in forests. Whereas a lack of a word may cause our attention to skip over such manifestations of patterns. Without ever noticing it, one could argue that it does not exist to us. If something has never been described in language, this does not mean that it doesn’t exist. However, certainly something having been described with language gains a considerable degree of realness.

Like electricity or getting introduced to the stage by an MC, this describing function often simply involves the connection of this piece of language to other pieces in various ways, through the connection maintaining accepted modica of usage, thus giving this piece realness. This connection serves as a platform upon which a thing is described by other (previously vetted) “real” things.

In action, consider “Brexit”: a combination of “Britain” (a country located around 55.3781° N, 3.4360° W) and “exit” (the action of taking leave). Note my explanations of the pieces themselves contain connections to other lingual pieces.

Language can give life, or degrees of realness. So, what’s the point?





Understand this: That which can be more easily represented in language is more likely to be understood quicker than that which can be represented in language less easily. Repetition increases understanding. Repetition increases understanding. Repetition increases understanding. Comfort breeds understanding. Fear propels us away, into comfort.

Marketing departments exist for a reason. TV commercials cost a lot of resources. Lingual manipulation works in favor of the manipulator. Memes, fads, and slang exist from common understanding, borne from ease, repetition, and control of comfort and fear.

Language that is easy to describe, repeated, and manipulated through fear or comfort can influence the communicative dissemination and transactions of understanding.

So, I hold that “Brexit”, an easily communicable two-syllable combination of commonly known ideas, plastered on media outlets, and instilled by positivity and negativity, contributed directly and significantly to the vote in its favor. If its creation was deliberate, “Brexit’s” creators should be commended. And given a raise. “Brexit” implanted itself in many hearts and minds, at the least. One can only speculate how its sibling, “Bremain”, would’ve fared given the same attention.

In conclusion, to persuade, try inventing language. Control the ease, repetition, and level of comfort or fear associated with it. Give a description of something new that benefits you. Its foil, the non-existence of the thing, stands no chance to combat your description. Through language, we can be gods. Give life. Live gife.



Buy high: Get your attention’s worth


I had the morning and early afternoon to explore before my flight to Dublin, so I decided to wander. While ambling through Hyde Park, London early on a late-summer day, I noticed a crowd of people gathered under some trees: extravagantly-dressed characters speaking loudly to surrounding groups of people. A few stood atop boxes. As I approached, the cacophony of monologues crept up into my ears and I entered Speaker’s Corner.

When I could finally fit a word of my own into the fray, I asked one speaker about the implications of overpopulation. Before I had finished asking my question, he snatched attention away from me and started speaking. He led us on a magical journey of speech and language, countless hecklers interrupted and argued as they pleased. The speaker wrestled for attention from many challengers.

Soon, one famous challenger arrived: a self-proclaimed fascist, dressed in military garb with a Hitler-style mustache, argued for the role of a strong state, necessity of institutions, and importance of racism. In response the first speaker wove a deep metaphor about how the challenger’s thought process could be represented as a sewage system funneling large, powerful shits.


But this scene was more than a processing system for word-shits. It was beautiful not because of the shit in the sewer, but rather the sea into which the sewers spewed.

Here at Speaker’s Corner between strangers the right to speak is fought for and not given. Anyone can speak openly, with or without respect to those on the soap-boxes. The people constantly construct and deconstruct the social dynamics that give attention to one and take it away from another.

Social dynamics we may take for granted, but allocation of attention is less like a hierarchy and more like a swirling ocean of pure chaos. Many situations in our lives have predetermined social roles, depending on cues like status, dress, age, and confidence. Social pressure compels us to fight for attention covertly and subtly, appearing always in control. Conflicts that emerge into verbal or physical fights are deemed uncivil.

But when social dynamics are boiled down, rules fall apart and only savagery remains. The prize of these fights is dominance through attention, and the prize of attention is self-worth.


In order to win attention, study how you give attention. Specifically, notice how you pay attention.

Even notice the language we use: “pay attention.” We are in control of a valuable resource that we can trade for something in return. As is the case with currency and confidence, the more you value your attention, the more others will. Those seeking your attention can provide something in return. The intelligent and successful sell their attention for highly valuable resources with developmental benefits. They sell high.

How do you get your attention’s worth?

Take an “attention pulse” throughout the day.

Keep a journal, or use a note-taking app on your phone. At certain points during the day, take note of what you were paying your attention to a moment before. For each entry, document important observations:

  • Object of attention
  • Time
  • Location
  • Context (what happened before or after this?)

And most importantly:

  • Trade-off (that which is received for your attention)

Whether it is knowledge, entertainment, social value, nourishment, relaxation, or fulfillment, this observation will reveal for what you trade your most powerful, but finite resource. Consolidate your results. Are you spending your attention wisely? If not, identify what trade-offs are most valuable to you, and budget your attention accordingly. Remember, your attention is only as good as you spend it.


The conversations at the Speaker’s Corner are passionate, radical, eloquent, and challenging: true Sophists at work. I most enjoyed the pure awe I felt at the skilled rhetoric of an individual vying for attention. Such social dynamics were incredibly entertaining to witness, and revealed a raw truth about the power of attention.


“Intelligence is not only the ability to reason; it is also the ability to find relevant material in memory and to deploy attention when needed.” -Daniel Kahneman

Everyone has their wolf


Who is your favorite fictional character?


When I was 14 years old, as I do now, I loved to read fantasy and science fiction books. Within an epic series lived a character whom I idolized. My eyes scanned Robert Jordan’s words outlining the stout, stubborn, and humble Perrin Aybara’s quirks. But in these words I imagined myself, and my inner heroism now had a medium with which to express itself.

As Perrin Aybara delved into adventures, he began to discover a deep, powerful energy: his inner wolf. He grew a thick beard, became intimate with his senses, and noticed his eyes change into a golden hue. He could even communicate with wolves themselves.

I was born with blue eyes. After a few years, these changed to green. At 14 years old, my eye color was changing from green to an earthy, golden hazel. My canine teeth grew longer and sharper than the rest of my teeth. It couldn’t be a coincidence.


The characteristics, thoughts, and actions of an external symbol catalyzed the development of my own characteristics, thoughts, and actions. I could metaphorically conceptualize my life through the mind of a wolf: my ideal self. So, I did. I could see the humans for the animals they are. School lunches became a crowded crossroads at a watering hole. A morning run became a hunt for survival.

Wolves are pack animals: the adaptive team member. There is the “lone wolf”: the independent explorer. There is the “alpha” of the pack: the confident leader. I appropriated every positive attribute of the “wolf” to my own identity. Am I working with others on a project? Wolves sacrifice for the good of the pack. Am I feeling lost? Go out and experience something new: look at art; climb a mountain; ask questions. Am I yearning for a mission? Establish a vision, gather help, and build something.


For many years, I only lived as an animal. But recently, I began to understand the reasons why I did so. When I felt pressure, I found a way free from my longing to be a comfortable recluse, curled up in a fetal position of artificial security. When faced with a difficult interview question, for example, heat would rise into my cheeks and my neck hairs would stand on end. But now, I have trained my mind to leap for a split-second into wolf-mode. For that brief instance of silence between question and answer, time waning into slow motion, I bear my canines and flick my ears, drawing upon ages of feral spirit to reassure myself. With a brief smile, I can confidently re-focus my attention toward the task at hand.

We should not restrict our oases of inspiration to those most like us. Yes, I have my human idols: orators, visionaries, warriors. But, I learn more from noticing and grasping at similarities between things that, at first glance, appear mutually exclusive. If we don’t sense connections between things, it does not follow that these the connections don’t exist. Rather, a foreign feeling propagates because I have not conceptualized and understood the similarities, yet. That which appears furthest from me only appears as such because I am ignorant and biased. Once I open my mind to the possibility, embody it, and test it, I can hold myself to such a restricting dichotomy as “right” or “wrong.” What can we learn from ants?: About emergence theory and feedback loops. What can we learn from Watson?: About human nature. What can we learn from the moon?: About ambition. Symbols are teachers of our world.

As I walk down the crowded streets, I see lions and pumas, falcons and hawks, beetles and bears, gorillas and celery. Consider whatever animal (or thing) I smell in you a compliment. Such acts comprise my fundamental survival guide with which I consult when necessary to interact in a crazy, un-symbolized world.

“For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.” -Rudyard Kipling


Image by HaloGhost @