How Accurately Can Words Express Our Feelings?

The world we live in is a world of words. Everything we see, hear, think and feel has a verbal equivalent. However, no matter what, perception inevitably always involves interpretation and words reduce reality to a personal dimension. Everyone looks at what they experience through their own eyes and therefore reality varies from person to person, in other words, whatever the inner world is, the outer world becomes a reflection of it. Accumulations, conditionings, memories prevent the evaluation of what is as it 'is' and words lose their purity and come to life with all the other meanings they carry. So much so that they can be both friend and foe. They can bring us closer to us and separate us from us. Sometimes it is expressed in poems that touch our hearts, sometimes in the curses we hurl. It takes on love and infatuation. It is covered in anger and hatred. Is it possible for a few consonants and a few vowels to express the full depth of life? 

Is the word "tree" enough to describe a tree? 

Can "love" fit into three tiny letters? 

Is it enough to say "sky" to express that vastness? 

How much can the word "longing" describe the longing for the beloved? Can "Orange", "Blue" or "Yellow" awaken in us the enthusiasm emanating from the colors at sunrise?

Can "Love" be defined, no matter how much it is glorified? Can the word "breath" fill our hearts with the grateful feeling of that divine life force?

Can people feel the true meaning of war when they hear the word "war"? Can "Birth" reflect the miracle behind it, "Life" the mystery at its core, "Death" the unknown beyond it?

It is really difficult to try to fit all these realities about the universe, the world and humankind into the narrow spaces of words. It is even more difficult for a word to create the same connotations in different people, because people cannot perceive and express only what is, free from the influence of labels, accumulations, images and memories. Therefore, even if they speak the same language, they often cannot meet in common feelings. Perhaps this is why there are artists on earth; because words are insufficient. They live beyond words, float in infinity, get lost in the depths of reality and find themselves among dreams. Perhaps this is why poets, composers, painters, sculptors are the ones who can best describe what is. They create words with their hearts, they are not prisoners of their minds.

Maybe that is why they are called "crazy". They stand out because their way of expression is different from that of other people. I am now considered to be at the entrance gate of the army of crazies. When they look at a stone, a bird, a flower, they don't name or label them; they just watch them with admiration and become one with their essence. That is when the miraculous feeling that humanity loses when it is captive to thought emerges and what they call inspiration comes into play. 

Van Gogh did not look at an ordinary chair in a corner of his room and label it as "an old chair"; he sat at his canvas, mixed his paints, shook his brush and became one with the essence of the chair and painted it. Van Gogh painted a chair, probably bought very cheaply, with a different feeling, adding soul to the light and colors, and this famous painting of Van Gogh is priceless today. 

Beethoven transcended sounds as he transcended words, and composed his most beautiful works while milking. To those who asked "How do you make these sculptures so perfect?" Michelangelo replied, "A stone stands in front of me and I look at it, look at it and then take away the excess", attributing all the value to the stone. 

And in his poems, many of which he wrote in prisons or in exile, our Nazım relieves his loneliness with words that fly on the wings of emotions, free from the bondage of the mind:

I am full of your words in this late autumn night;

eternal like time, like matter,

words as naked as eyes, as heavy as hands and as bright as stars.

Your words came to me,

your heart, your head, your flesh. 

Your words brought you, they are mother, they are woman and companion. 

They were sad, 

They were painful, joyful, hopeful, heroic, in your words; they were human. 

I don't say these things, Nazım, who is ours, says them. 

If we could look at life like the artists, the words that separate us from ourselves would perhaps bring us closer to ourselves and the truth would reveal the miracles of the Universe in all its purity, unpolluted by thoughts.

Trees, birds, flowers, rocks, stones and the sky can tell us many things beyond the meanings we attach to them. Emotions come to the surface as pure emotion, our existence regains its innocence silently.

As they say, "The Language of the Sages is Silence", I am sure what they mean is the silence of the mind, and the words that come out of their mouths are so powerful because they come from silence and do not label what is. Words sparkling like stars. Here, I am a brother wandering in the Magic world of words. I have nothing to do but to share the codes of my codes with you. If you want to surf with me in the ocean of the "Magic World" of words and travel in the vast depths of our beautiful Turkish, follow me and let's surf together.

Stay with respectful love.