Random comes from Old German meaning to run, according to Merriam-Webster. The word today is defined as “lacking a definite plan, purpose or pattern”. When we run through life without taking the time to sit down and think what we want to achieve then our actions might well appear random to people who watch us or even to ourselves. Our randomness might well be that we are controlled by our stress and fears that are very short-sighted instead of our needs or desires that may be more long-term.
The word real comes from Latin’s realis which means actual, and in medieval latin it meant “belonging to the thing itself”, according to etymonline.
So when I’m being real then I belong to myself, when I don’t feel real who do I belong to then?
According to etymonline, desire comes from the latin phrase de sidere meaning from the stars. I read somewhere that if you want to think big you should look up and if you want to focus on details to look down. This is a great trick if you get stuck in a situation you feel you can’t get out of, try looking up and see if you can see the stars and your desires.
“I have an apple that thinks it is a pear,” she said, holding it up. “And a bun that thinks it is a cat. And a lettuce that thinks it is a lettuce.”
It is a clever lettuce then.”
“Hardly,” she said with a delicate snort. “Why would anything clever think it was a lettuce?”
“Even if it is a lettuce?” I asked.
“Especially then,” she said. “Bad enough to be a lettuce. How awful to think you are a lettuce too.”
The Wise Man’s Fear, Patrick Rothfuss
Reader is, according to Merriam-Webster, defined as “one that reads”. (I love circular definitions). But it is also defined as one who is “appointed to read to others”. Read can also be linked back to the German verb raten that means to council, advice or guess.
Is a reader then someone who guesses what others have written and then tells it to others?
I just finished reading the two first books of the Kingkiller chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss. Such amazing writing that made me laugh, think and cry.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a river stone, smooth and dark. “Describe the precise shape of this. Tell me of the weight and pressure that forged it from sand and sediment. Tell me how the light reflects from it. Tell me how the world pulls at the mass of it, how the wind cups it as it moves through the air. Tell me how the traces of its iron will feel the calling of a loden-stone. All of these things and a hundred thousand more make up the name of this stone."He held it out to us at arm’s length. "This single, simple stone.”
– The Wise Man’s Fear, Patrick Rothfuss
It is so hard to communicate, to describe what we see feel almost impossible. How can we hope to describe what we think, feel and experience? We can only share a small part of our selves, the tip of the iceberg.