C. P. Monaghan's Blog, page 2

Great New Beginnings

The sapphire, orange clouds

Mixed within the jade skies

And it was at that moment

That I realized

Standing on the broken pier

The world became hazily clear

The time for restoration

Had finally drawn near

It was time to vacate, but admire the past

In search of what calls from beyond

It was time to begin anew

It was time to move on

Revamp the life

From which was scarcely known before

Do not stray from your winding path

Sprint strong through that grandiose door

Culture vs. Language: An Obscure Border, but Homologous Relationship

There exists a line that lies between culture and language that separates the two; however, that border may not even be considered a line. If there is a line, it is most definitely blurred beyond noticeability. Most people believe there is a line because of a majority consensus that there is always a line. The relationship between culture and language is complex due to its functioning within each factor. Vyvyn Evans of Psychology Today believes that language is fundamentally the search for meaning, consequently provided by culture, clearly defining the border (Evans). While this is true, the boundary of culture and language appears to be far less defined than Evans implied. Language is culture; that sentence is a palindrome. Both culture and language are interchangeable, conversely being able to birth one another; however, their relationship is rather simple and effective when analyzing how they interact.

People built language as a tool of correspondence between and within cultures (Evans). However, we cannot fully comprehend culture “without having direct access to its language” (Guessabi). Evans claims that language originated from culture; however, the inverse is also true (Evans). If language can give clues into its originator: culture, then it is most definitely a factor of culture (Encyclopedia Britannica Inc). If it is indeed the most important factor of culture, as Britannica says, then culture cannot be fully functional without some design of communication (Encyclopedia Britannica Inc). A.L. Krober once stated, “‘culture, then, began when speech was present, and from then on, the enrichment of either means the further development of the other.’” (Guessabi). His description of this relationship provides ample support for the true origin thereof. Moreover, the system of culture must be built from language instead of language deriving from culture, for culture cannot stand in the absence of language.

The idea that language is the only form of communication is fundamentally false, for one can produce no sound and still “signal” what they want to express. Culture itself is a language specifically because it is a projection of its people’s desires and goals (Guessabi). The use of symbols to represent “beliefs, feelings, identities, or events” is not the only way of conversing; culture shows this by having ways of “bringing beliefs, feelings, and identities into the present context” (Guessabi). Evans says that language is “moulded, and honed by culture, in order to facilitate the shared values… of any community” (Evans). While this is somewhat true, the honing of language does not directly follow the user’s establishment culture. Since communication through culture is equal to the communication through language, culture is able to function as its own language, consequently honing culture (Guessabi). “To know a culture is like knowing (and participating in) a language” (Guessabi). Therefore, language is possibly its own culture and culture is possibly its own language. The homologous connection is undeniable.

The correlation between one’s culture and one’s use of language is a simple concept. Environment influences every single human being. Humans also have the grand ability of creating and producing their own environments. With each environment comes language, mentality, and culture (Evans). The language factor produces discussions from which most people influence from the most (Day Translations). Those discussions then build mentality, giving a particular consensus over the population (Day Translations). Those factors are then combined and utilized to create the rest of culture: literature, music, religion, customs, etc.

There are smaller, more defined subsets and sections of language, mentality, and culture because of the overwhelming number of differences located amongst the many people of the world. Geographical, social, and functional distinctions also are increasingly prevalent when looking across other cultures and languages (Day Translations). Inter-cultural interactions are specifically prepared ones because of the deep-rooted nature of language and culture (Day Translations). Many see this everyday as one researches one culture in preparation to not offend and converse properly; however, that complexity is truly the only depth of which this idea goes for someone understanding the basics of the culture/ language relationship.

“Language communicates through culture, and culture also communicates through language” (Guessabi). Culture indeed matters. Tremendously. Culture’s very existence requires the presence of language. Without both or one or the other, the world as we know it would be utterly distinct. People would never express internally formulated thoughts for those trying to comprehend another (Encyclopedia Britannica Inc). There would be no system of definition or interpretation. People would never form a consensus. Valued voices would disappear amongst the scrambles to search for meaning. The “golden triangle” is no longer present if the world loses culture and language (Evans). People would also no longer hold relationships with each other. That is the terrible reality of no culture or language; however, if those who use each factor understand their relationship and history, then they can indeed produce the greatest good.

Works Cited

Day Translations. “The Relationship between Language and Culture Defined.” Day Translations, 11 May 2018, https://www.daytranslations.com/blog/....

Encyclopedia Britannica Inc. “Language And Culture.” Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/topic/lang.... Accessed 13 January 2021.

Evans, Vyvyn. “Culture Matters! How Cultural Knowledge Influences Language.” Psychology Today, 6 March 2016, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/bl....

Guessabi, Fatiha. “Blurring the Line between Language and Culture.” Language Magazine, https://www.languagemagazine.com/blur.... Accessed 13 January 21.

Be No Evil (Chapter 1: Three Visitors)

What is beautiful in demeanor is indeed beautiful, but the true inner value and substance are always hidden beneath the physical displays. This was true for the setting sun. Its golden outline was, in a way, containing the natural brightness produced by its core. The rays sent from its center pierced the skies and atmosphere, truly making their origin the focal point of the world. The entire firmament and skies suddenly change their colors to match their one star. All blues shift into bright vermilion’s mixed with amber’s. The director is pleased. Although, the change goes unnoticed. One swift look away and back and the world suddenly becomes completely anew.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she said, marveling at the great landscape.

“It is,” he replied, turning back from a different focus.

When he first said this, he agreed solely because she asked; however, when his eyes finally caught the view, he was overwhelmed. It seemed just moments ago that the skies were blue. His eyes expanded to grasp the full scope of the environment. The Costa Rican coast reflected the high flames. The tree line became nothing more than yellow and green silhouettes hugging the edges of the burning sands of the everlasting Pacific Ocean. The sea’s waves crashed and sunk beneath one another disrupting any sea life’s slumber. They were calling out for any idler to rise to the surface and witness perfection, as were the trees swaying to alert the fauna.

“Wow,” he said.

“Don’t you love seeing these, Otis?” his lover asked.

“Of course. It would require an insane mind not to,” Otis replied with his jaw still loose and dangling. “But I have to say, Mrs. Becker.” He slid over and leaned into her, his side against hers.

At the edge of this cliff, their feet swayed with the wind. The rocks were smoothed from countless people before them, so the spectacle was enjoyed most comfortably.

She grinned largely. “Yes, Mr. Becker?”

He was looking at her now. His eyes dropped to her hands and returned to hers at moments.

“The sun will always be here. For us anyway. But you aren’t promised to me any more than you are now.” He was focused intently. “So thank you for saying yes and giving me a lifetime with you.”

She smiled largely and embraced him. She spoke over his shoulder, “It was my best pleasure.”

The days earlier were just as lazy as the recent. They spent most of the mornings in bed or lounging in their villa’s main room. Vera painting, Otis reading. The usual dynamic. Vera specifically chose Guanacaste, Costa Rica as their honeymoon destination because of the pure amount of inspiration oozing from the landscape. Their home was slightly farther away from the usual tourist sights to give a more secluded feel. Her specialty on the canvas was environments, so it came as no surprise that one of her most proud works would be crafted on this trip. It featured the vista from the terrace of their condo. The background showed the briny deep creating heavy waves of which crashed against the faded beaches. The foreground starred the mountain on which their condo stood at the base of. Everything downward (the neatly packed groves and the lush, bounding hills) was painted with pure passion and craftsmanship. Even though she was classified as an “amateur artist” her skill placed her among the legends in Otis’s eyes.

The later times urged them to step outside and experience what adventures their surroundings could furnish and that they did. Vera had recently escaped her creative ambiance and was now looking forward to seeing some of the tourist attractions. So, they withdrew from their villa, after preparing, and held each other’s hand as they traveled along the promising, dirt road leading straight out of their home.

Dense foliage surrounded them. Great trees— expanding into great heights— blocked the sun’s excessive beams from scorching the local life; however, the moisture trapped in the plants made humidity a slight problem for those who overheat easily. It was under the trees where most of life was occupied. The shade was ideal for a young family of tapir or a flock of macaw. The cool shade was everything, to the wildlife, the tourists, and the locals. The dirt road outside of the villa was lengthy and tiresome to journey on, so the coverings were efficient rest stops.

The road curved around the mountain and hills and led to numerous sights; however, these sights were being quickly outshone. In recent years, Costa Rica had developed significantly. Nicely paved roads were taken back and forth from impressive marketplaces. Cities popped up on the maps as “must-see” travel destinations. Although, Vera and Otis chose not to be followers. They wanted to experience the average folk and their daily lives. This also meant that the adjustment to life, however brief, would be sneakily difficult.

On one occasion, Vera was breathing heavily after a steep hike. Their objective was a large stone structure they had seen from their home, atop a meager mountain in comparison to its soaring brethren. They asked the natives about the range who insisted that they proceed with caution, giving them the best routes to avoid possible dangers.

“Thank you for all your help,” Vera said holding the hands of an elderly lady who was one of the only locals who could speak English.

“Oh one more thing,” the woman said as the couple was walking away. “Orosi is confusing in its paths.”

“Orosi?” Otis asked. “Is that the name of the mountain?”

“Mountain?” said the lady with a great laugh. “No, no, Orosi is a volcano.”

The couple looked at each other and mentally asked, “Why didn’t you know that?” They thought about the best course of action and Vera eventually said, “Let’s just do it.”

“Like Nike says.”

Adhered to adventure, they followed the best possible path with hopeful smiles and determined eyes. Halfway to the structure, they were winded, to say the least. Their chests, Vera’s in particular, fluctuated with varying degrees of gasps and puffs. She had a heart condition that made it challenging to exceed her natural bodily functions, but she was always confident when attempting peaks with her lover by her side. It was this fact alone that made Otis worried. He did not want her feeling as if she had to overcome her limits to simply please his appetite for a great venture. He always remained alert for an opportunity to pause, but his newlywed was completely separate from such feeble desires.

“Let’s take a rest,” he said mid-walk.

“I’m okay!” she said, now trying to hold her breathing to a minimum.

Otis, knowing that she would keep moving if he did, said, “Well, I’m taking a break.”

He played up his outward exhaustion to make it appear that he was actually in need of a pause. He turned and walked past Vera to a big Guanacaste tree or “elephant ear” as the locals called it. Its surroundings were fairly open, but the sheer mass of the tree’s branches and leaves made the world shrivel when under its cloak. The leaves hung low, so Otis had to part the sheets with his hands to enter. He turned to see if Vera was following; indeed, she was. He held the curtains back for her as she ducked her head and wedged herself through. They both made to the trunk and slumped at its side. Vera was now letting her brimming lungs go, digging every sort of tiredness from her body. Her head cocked back and her eyes looked heavenward. Her mouth gaped as she left airflow into and out at its will. She waited for Otis to look away before pressing her two fingers against the bottom of her jaw. She counted quickly while checking her watch— a common practice her. She eventually looked at Otis (as he looked back at her) and realized he wasn’t breathing nearly as hard as his body would require if he was truly as exhausted as he claimed.

“Hey, I thought you were tired,” she said between breaths, brow furrowed.

He chuckled. “I thought you weren’t.”

“Touché,” she smirked back.

They sat there and listened. Their ears did not reach out to find any particular thing, just waited for something to reach them, and something certainly did. In the mixing of the still buzzing from unknown insects, loops of caws and beaks hitting bark, deep-toned clamors from distant ecosystems, and droplets of water slipping from the leaves of nearby trees and crashing into the soft soil below, they could hear distinct animals conversing within reach. They were unsure of what kind of animals they were, or how many were there, but they were interested, nonetheless. The cycles of exchange grew louder and louder until the branches above the couple were heard rattling in union with the sounds. Then, with a fell swoop, an average-sized Capuchin monkey crashed to the ground after his perch snapped in two. It swiftly got up and analyzed the area, sporadically peering into every detail within every direction.

The monkey was easily identified by its popular fur and coloring. These are the monkeys that are seen in most movies and TV series. With that being said, Hollywood’s portrayal of real-life elements has been proven to not be fully trusted as a “whole-truth”. He eventually saw the couple propped against the tree trunk. Otis was shocked and frozen while Vera’s face was delighted; after a moment of stillness, she held out her hand to meet the creature.

“What are you doing?” Otis shouts, in the tone of a whisper.

“It won’t bite!” she shouted back.

“Oh! Really?” he said. “I beg to differ! Look at its teeth!”

She held her finger to her mouth and lunged her head at him, all the while shushing. “Don’t scare it off!”

Otis held a clenched fist to his mouth and backed to the tree completely. The monkey was hesitant from the unrest, but it proceeded anyway. One of its legs extended; its foot grasped the ground while keeping its body back, and then continued with the next one. Its hips shifted with every step which demanded its shoulders to follow. Even through all contortions, its eyes remained locked on its target. Vera was still, her hand wavering slightly. She wore a soft smile on her face to illustrate her peaceful intentions. Whether or not those “peaceful intentions” were really recognized was up for debate. The monkey arrived closer and closer until its fingers were inches from Vera’s. When they collided, the monkey leaped back a few feet and shook its head vigorously, making a grunt and squeal or two. With that, two more monkeys plopped onto the ground beside the original. They rolled around, clasping to each other and fighting. Screeches were exchanged, and scratches also. The original monkey yelled at them with its own screeches.

Otis and Vera watched with widened eyes and vacated jaws. The first monkey eventually joined in the fight; and just like that, there was a problem. The problem did not affect the couple tremendously: it actually provided a good laugh. The trio rolled to the left, released from each other, and then threw palms and tails in retaliation of another’s. Then they continued to the right and repeated the thrashings. One would quit from the bundle and climb a tree, only to detach and crash upon the others with a wicked body splash. Leaves, sticks, and many insects were demolished in the war. A couple of minutes of howls— both from the belligerent apes and the hysteric couple— passed and no signs of pause were apparent, that is, until one got tired. Then when one got winded, another would do the same, whether they truly were or not. In a matter of seconds, the ordeal ceased, and the monkeys were now catching their long-lost breaths and licking wounds.

After both parties had recollected, their eyes met. The monkeys finally realized that these strange creatures were watching them as they “played.” The couple realized that the monkeys were well aware of their presence as well. This made Otis’s already brimming surplus of anxiety skyrocket further. Vera— although slightly unnerved— was happy to finally be able to greet them. She once again held her hand out to the company, but only the original monkey made any amount of effort to meet her; however, when it crossed a threshold beyond its kin realizing its displacement according to the others; so, it retracted itself back to the trio. Vera frowned at this. She figured that none would come unless they all would, so she decided to move in herself. When she forced her body forward, her non-dominant hand was grabbed by Otis. He informed her that it was not in their best favor to be eaten alive during their honeymoon, but Vera ignored his words.

She moved forward ever so slight, hand still extended. The original monkey looked back to its siblings in search of a reaction so that he could follow, but both of them stood still and watched. With no dominant judgment of the situation, the monkey seemed to finally decide that the curiosity of the strange creature’s hand was too great to pass on. It moved slightly toward the Vera. As she continued forward, she witnessed a minor spasm from one of the monkey’s feet. She decided it would be best not to approach past the imaginary boundary of potential harm and took a step back. The monkey at the lead inched forward more as a response. Eventually, its hand touched Vera’s once again; however, this time there was a lack of surprise or expectancy of danger, no leap back or twitch to do so. The monkey sat there, its hand within Vera’s, and it marveled at the feeling. The human’s hand seemed similar to its own at first but different in a strange way.

After a moment of stillness, it moved its hand to the back of the human’s. It felt that side and then wondered what even further was like, so it moved to the wrist, then the elbow. It would sniff the scent of the female and hop and yelp. The other monkeys stared in disbelief, hesitant for their friend. Their friend required no hesitation, however, for the time for doubt had long passed. They sensed this and inched towards the human as well. They reached her and went along the same route of discovery as the original. Vera was smiling the entire time, loving every second of this new experience. She turned her head back to Otis, careful not to scare away the animals with a quick bodily swipe. His body had stiffened to a rigid statue and his eyes had widened to a panorama, now fearful for his lover, but she did not want or need fear, for that time for that had left as well.

She motioned with her head for him to come over. He shook his head back. She motioned again and mouthed the words, “It is okay.” He shook again. Her lips pressed tightly into a grimace, and her eyebrows crinkled upon the top of her eyelids. She now wore a stony expression, but soon returned to her smile as she returned to her new pals. In the moment of silence and solitude from attention, Otis contemplated the option of joining. He canceled any thought within seconds of their appearances but being an outcast forces one’s mind to focus on certain, prevailing thoughts no matter their desire to ignore them. Indeed, he focused on those thoughts to the eventual point that he was exhausted from thinking about them, so the only way for mental silence and peace would be fulfillment. He grew sick of his slump and raised his upper body higher to a strong posture. He grew closer to the congregation and enchanted Vera’s eyes with his boldness. This made his ego inflate thus pushing him to continue.

He reached out his hand to the monkeys as well; since they had grown accustomed to the human qualities, touching the man was not a problem. They felt his skin and smelt all the same as they did with the woman, jumping for joy. This skin was more coarse and tightened. The smell was more of a musk that the animals were used to. After a while, the original monkey’s interest seemed to fade. It slowly backed from the group, looked around, and leapt away to the edge of the large tree’s branches. Another of the trio looked on as the original left and backed away the same but with more hesitation. The third took double the amount of time to leave, but it still left all the same. They grouped again, marching themselves shiftily through the grass, and grabbed upon the branches of the tree, careful this time of not taking the fragile ones. One by one they swung and climbed away from the couple who merely sat there and wondered.

“What strange creatures.”

Internal Barricade

Something makes me crazy

It can be loving

Or it can be deadly

Trauma, it’s inside me

I feel it pounding

Trying to subdue me

But I understand what’s wrong

Lies

Give me peace and then you snatch it

I don’t trust what you do

I won’t misplace it

Misplacing my trust, never again

Never would I see such a shift from love to hate and back

You keep me on edge, but you still save me

Sometimes I am afraid of your potential attack

You promised me freedom from the cage you designed

You issued me fines

Only to lie and make me repay

For a tax you created

To only myself, I hated

You’re a trigger warning

For something I don’t believe is dangerous

Something I know I can handle

I think I can handle

I wish I could handle

One day I will be gone

And you will no longer work

While I lay peacefully in the dirt

But you taught me the lesson of faith

Of one not easily obtained

If I knew what was going to happen

I might’ve refrained

From ever trying at all

Oh, how bleak would be the fall

You may allow me to be alive

But you will never

Be the singularity

That shall teach me

To thrive