Now You're Speaking My Language

How we communicate

Hi Zan, Hi Pa

Volume #42

June 10th, 2025

HI, ZAN: So much of what happens in the human world (and, I’d guess, in the animal and plant kingdoms, too) depends on communication of one sort or another. Want to talk about that?

HI, PA: Sure, Pa, let’s communicate about communication!

One thing that comes to mind when I think of this subject is something I read recently in Braiding Sweetgrass, a book written by an Indigenous botanist that tells the story of the relationship between people and plants. The author opens the book by describing how nut trees across the country do what’s called a “mast fruiting” every few years, synching up to simultaneously drop a bunch of their nuts to the ground. It’s still very much a mystery to scientists how the trees know to do this at the same time, but to me it’s a beautiful example of a kind of communication that goes beyond our human capabilities.

Have you ever heard of anything like that? And how do you think it’s similar or different from the way we humans communicate?

PA: Yes, I have, and I’m glad you started this discussion away from the human realm. There must be all kinds of communication going on that we’re completely unaware of. I read somewhere years ago about symbiotic relationships between trees and the mushrooms that grow nearby, and I suspect there are countless other examples in the plant kingdom. It’s more obvious in the animal kingdom, with whales calling to each other, owls hooting in the forests here at night, coyotes barking and keening. When we were in southern Italy this winter we saw massive flocks of kites (the bird), thousands of them circling and swirling in gorgeous aerial patterns. Just instinct, some would say, like geese heading south in October, but I don’t like that ‘just’. Aren’t instinctive movements a kind of communication, a message that’s received and then translated into action?

For us, communication tends to be connected to words, but aren’t there multiple other forms, various ways of communicating without words?

Photo by Amanda S. Merullo

ZAN: First of all, I love the idea of instinct being a form of communication—what are our own human instincts and reflexes if not communication from the part of our brain that tries to keep us safe?

I would argue that most communication is nonverbal. Eye contact between siblings when a family member says something ridiculous at a holiday dinner, a warm hug from a friend when you’re going through a hard time, crossing your arms when trying to create a barrier between yourself and another person…

Can you recall a specific moment in which actions spoke louder than words?

PA: I think other kinds of actions can be a form of communication, too. For one example, and in answer to your question, when my father died—unexpectedly, in his sleep, at age 66—Amanda and I drove from Williamstown to Revere to be with my mother and brothers. It was over a hundred degrees. Lots of people in the house, phone ringing, neighbors bringing over food, crying, shock. At one point I went out for a solitary walk, and my cousin Ronnie—who’d lost his father unexpectedly three years earlier—was driving by and he stopped and motioned for me to get into his van. I think he said something like, “Hard, isn’t it.” But it was the gesture of stopping and motioning me to ride around with him that spoke volumes.

Of the ones you mention, I think touch is maybe the most important. Not as common as speech or eye contact, but the phrases “I was touched by it” or “that touched me deeply” point to its force. No need to rank them, I guess, but give me a few examples of moments of communication you recall vividly.

ZAN: One moment of communication I remember vividly was the first time I carried out an interaction completely in Khmer when living in Cambodia. I had become fluent in Italian when I lived in Italy as a teen so I was familiar with the process of learning a language, but somehow in Cambodia (much farther from home geographically and in a language much farther from English etymologically) the experience struck me more.

I had been living in the country for a few months and had taken Khmer speaking lessons with a local teacher to learn some basic vocabulary. Then one day I was exploring a neighborhood outside the city center (so, outside the area where people spoke English), and wanted to buy a bottle of water because I could feel my energy fading in the thick, hot air. So I approached an old lady who was squatting in a doorway with a collection of beverages for sale and asked for a bottle of water in Khmer. She responded without missing a beat: “Mien tauy ruh thom.” I have small and large. Then when I told her small she told me the cost in Riel and I knew right away which bill to hand her.

It may seem like a small deal or a fairly simple moment of interaction and communication, but to me it was deeply significant. That was the first time I felt like I connected with a local person in my adopted country without a language barrier. And for her, that simple interaction may have communicated my respect for her culture without me needing to say that outright.

The thing about communication is that we only have control over what we say and do, not how it’s interpreted. What do you think causes miscommunication then?

PA: A nice example. It’s such a thrill to reach across the language barrier like that.

I think there are lots of reasons for miscommunication. Both you and I are writers, and one skill writers absolutely need is the ability to put ourselves in the mind of the reader. When I used to teach—and even now when I do the occasional workshop—I’d often talk about precision. Not choosing a word that fits the situation pretty well, but one that is as precise as possible, that eliminates or greatly reduces the chances that there will be a misunderstanding. A word that wakes up the reader, rather than putting him or her to sleep.

ZAN: That’s how I interpret the quote from Hemingway: “All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.”

Photo by Amanda S. Merullo

PA: There are so many fine points to communication, so many subtleties, and grasping those subtleties is exactly what separates a pretty good writer from a very good writer, a pretty good communicator from a very good communicator—one who reduces, to the extent possible, the potential for misunderstanding.

The last phrase in the paragraph above—'putting him or her to sleep’—illustrates both one of those subtleties and also the challenge of getting things right in terms of communicating with a reader. I bet you would have written ‘putting them to sleep’ so as to include people who don’t feel accurately described by either ‘him’ or ‘her.’ I get that, and feel real empathy for those people. I just wish there were a different way of expressing that kind of understanding and empathy, a way that didn’t bother me so much, grammatically. I have such a hard time using ‘them’ for a single person. A generational thing, maybe?

In any case, being married for 46 years has helped me understand the importance of communicating well, the fact that how you say something in a relationship can be as important as what you say, not to mention the importance of attentiveness, eye-contact, touch, timing, history, sensing the other person’s mood or state of mind and being aware of your own.

ZAN: Absolutely—in fact, I think the intention behind what is said is perhaps even more important than the words themselves, though that certainly doesn’t excuse things like verbal abuse.

To me, that applies to things like gender-neutral language. Even as someone who has been familiar with the concept of gender-neutral pronouns since adolescence, I also struggle grammatically to use “them” when referring to a single person. So what I focus on is the intention behind that change in language: respecting the humanity and identity of another person. If I approach it in that way, I think the underlying message is understood, even if I slip up and use the wrong pronoun.

Of course, the intention behind communication may not always be apparent to the other person, whether that’s because of differences in personality, culture, or even communication style. That’s perhaps the hardest part of human communication to navigate.

Can you think of a time when you were misunderstood? How did you approach it?