Expressing the Inexpressible

I think I’m some sort of closet Wittgensteinian, Ludwig W. having famously closed his Tractatus Logic-Philosophicus with the words, “Where (or of what) we cannot speak, we must remain silent.”

I don’t think he meant this as a tautology—although in one sense (maybe like when we have a mouth full of food) it is—or even as an admonition—although in another sense, it’s probably good advice, especially for people on cell phones in public. I think rather that he meant it mainly as an observation: about things—experiences, concepts, dreams, what have you—we cannot put into words, we can’t really communicate (although I’ve been in lots of conversations in which people have tried, usually after more than a few recreational stimulants).

As a digression, it always bugs me when people say “Words cannot express…(insert topic here)” because I’ve long wondered whether if they can’t, then what is there to express anyway?

(And also, it seems like a cop out because clearly, words CAN express—just so long as you’re Shakespeare, Ken Kesey, or Rainier Maria Rilke on a good day.)

Yesterday afternoon, the most vibrant rainbow I’ve ever seen arched across the sky above the river valley here; is it true that words cannot express its beauty? Maybe it’s only my words that can’t, especially when I’ve only got 327 to spend.

Nevertheless, it’s clear that some things are much harder to express than others. For instance, I have no trouble using the English language to communicate that I’d like another cup of coffee. By contrast, it’s extremely difficult to put into words the feeling of joy and relief that accompanies that first cup in the morning. And even harder, the feeling of despair and panic that follows from discovering that there are no beans left in the bag.

But then, maybe that insufferable bore, Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner said it best: De doo doo doo, De da da da, is all I’ve got to say to you.”