It would appear, embedded as we are in the context of this fleeting contemporary moment, that language is a semi-permanent structure, shifting only slightly in the sands of time. After all, we can pretty much read 400 year old Shakespearean plays and get the gist of what he’s saying. There is a use of language that goes well beyond the surface, just as there is a use of body that goes well beyond the skin. A language contains within it, dormant in the commerce of the everyday, the potential for transmutation, for transcendent transportation. Because language not only utilizes reason, logic, and traditional agreements of meaning. There is also within language intuition, pure sonic reverberation, and a spiritual manifestation of deeper insight. There is a flow, a movement of inspiration that collaborates and communes and communicates not solely between entities, not solely between two detached individuals questing for meaning—but rather a ray of light, little flashing bubbles reflectant in the light, that strings out from one whole universe into the void and into one whole again, a waterfall from the river to the sea, never in reality anything but of itself, of the world, of a movement into itself to know itself to display its glory.
Language like this has been around since the movement of the monkey’s mouth to intone thought. Yet it transforms with each furthered communique between the species, each exploratory spelunking of projected mentality, each shared acceptance of what is seen within ourselves and known within the world. So we can read Shakespeare and know what he was saying. But there’s folks out there right now conveying it in a much more relevant fashion. Language is the mirror of the soul. A temporal conveyance of timelessness. A light shining out from between the frontal lobes of our intuition, a voice of knowledge that can’t be sounded by reason.