What language do you speak in your head? If you speak more than one language externally, what language do you process in internally? And what language do you speak in your dreams?
I posed these questions to my younger cousin last night. He's 18. English is not his first language. He paused when I asked what language he speaks in his head. For the first time in his life he realized that he doesn't use a language in his head. He has images. He seemed delighted to discover this bit of information. He said it explained why he's always had such a difficult time verballly expressing himself. He draws and creates music though. I wondered aloud if that is the language he feels most comfortable using. He agreed that it was.
Now, if you're read my blog, you'll know that I think a lot. And you'll know that writing is my preferred form of communication. If you've spent time with me in person, you'll know that I find verbal communication difficult and limiting. And that I often reach a frustration point where I throw language out the window and withdraw, if not shut down.
I have read that you can only think one thought at a time. I don't know how true that is. Not even sure how you'd gauge such a thing. But from my experience, this seems unlikely. In my brain it feels as if there are layers, like a hologram. There are a vast number of conversations going on at the same time. These conversations are layered on top of one another. They exist at the same time and place but on different levels, like the layers of a hologram. And they create a larger picture, but one that is not always so easily described. Actually, it is beyond words.
I remember in my art class how I was drawn (no pun intended) to creating layers of paint. I would layer color upon color until it felt complete. The art instructor said my pieces displayed a depth of emotion. No shit Sherlock. Come and spend a few hours in my brain and you'll see how deep the rabbit hole goes.
Also, as I've blogged about previously, there's always a song playing in my head. It's like the backdrop for the montage of conversations occurring in my brain at any given time. I sometimes share song lyrics with you. They're a glimpse into my personal soundtrack.
As a child of 4 or 5 I recall being aware of my holographic brain. I remember thinking, 'Are all the other kids thinking about what I'm thinking about?' Perhaps they were. Perhaps they still are.