We wildly underestimate the power of language
[If you’d prefer to listen, rather than read, skip to the bottom of the page and click play]
How a slight slip of the tongue nearly sent me to war
A single word can inspire a nation — or accidentally declare war on a train station. (True story — I’m getting to that.)
When I first went to live in France, I kept mixing up two words that didn’t even sound the same: ‘gare’ and ‘guerre’.
This might not seem like a big deal… unless you’re telling people you’re off to war just to pick up a parcel.
‘Gare’ means train station. ‘Guerre’ means war. A couple of vowel shifts, but a world of difference — and a guaranteed laugh from the locals every time I heroically marched off to battle with my handbag. Such is the power of language.
But it wasn’t just the comedy that caught my attention. It was how language shapes our understanding — not just of what we hear, but what we think. That fascination led me to study language through the lens of NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming), and I’ve been unpicking the weird and wonderful ways we talk to ourselves and each other ever since.
The confusion didn’t stop in France. When I first moved to New Zealand, someone asked me to “bring a plate” to a gathering. So I did — six of them, actually. All empty.
I assumed they didn’t have enough crockery.
Turns out the hosts meant bring food. Different country, same issue: the words made sense in English — just not in the Kiwi version of English.
Making sense of it all (with your senses)
Language isn’t just words — it’s how you interpret those words using your senses. You hear something, and your brain creates pictures, sounds, feelings… maybe even a smell if it’s particularly evocative. (Burnt toast? School canteen? Fresh coffee?)
In NLP, we call these internal representations. They’re the mini-movies your mind creates from the words you hear, read, or even see gestured. They help you make sense of the world. But — and it’s a big but — everyone’s version is different.
Which means… misunderstandings are basically inevitable
Like our first day in NZ. I think we’d been in the country for two hours and went to the bank to transfer our money from the UK. The Kiwi bank teller asked if I wanted a chicken.
I stared blankly, thinking, ‘Do all new migrants get a bird? Is this part of the welcome package?’
Exasperated by our vacant looks, she eventually wrote it down: ‘cheque account’.
Which cleared things up — though part of me still wouldn’t have minded a chicken.
Even when we agree on the words, the meaning can still get lost in translation — which is part of what makes the power of language so intriguing (and occasionally, hilarious).
Words are just labels — until they’re not
Words are agreed-upon labels for things. But even if we agree on the label, we don’t always agree on the meaning. That’s where it gets interesting.
Take this gem:
After not hearing from her elderly neighbour for a few days, Mrs Green got a bit nervous.
“John,” she called to her son, “do me a favour and go next door and find out how old Mrs Robinson is.”
John trotted off, knocked on the door, and came back five minutes later looking shocked.
“So, how is she?” asked Mrs Green.
“I’ve never seen her so mad,” said John. “She said it’s none of your business how old she is!”
We laugh because we assume one thing — that she meant check on her — but the words suggest something else entirely. That one subtle mismatch between intended meaning and literal meaning makes the joke.
The assumptions hiding in plain sight
In English every sentence you hear comes loaded with assumptions. In NLP, we call them presuppositions — baked-in beliefs that have to be true in order for a sentence to make sense.
Take this one: The Kiwi use of the word ‘shout.’
In other English-speaking countries, shouting usually means someone’s angry. Here, it means they’re paying for your drink.
Which makes for a confusing moment if a Kiwi walks into a bar and says, ‘Don’t worry mate, it’s my shout.’
You brace yourself for an argument, and instead end up with a round of beers.
Even everyday comments carry invisible baggage. Like:
“If the dog keeps barking, I’ll have to call him back inside.”
You’ve just inferred the dog is:
- male,
- outside (but used to be inside),
- barking,
- barking since who knows when.
- and will obediently come when called. (Ha!)
All that from one simple sentence.
Your brain fills in the blanks automatically. It’s efficient, clever, and occasionally disastrous.
“I’ll try…” (said with no conviction whatsoever)
Let’s say you ask someone if they can pick you up on their way to work.
They say,
“I’ll try.”
How convinced are you that:
- They’ll actually turn up?
- You won’t be left stranded in your driveway clutching a travel mug and your last shred of optimism?
Exactly.
“Try” is one of those polite hesitation words we use when we’re not quite ready to commit. It gives us a graceful way to fail — in advance.
“I’ll try” is the verbal equivalent of crossing your fingers behind your back. It’s a kind of linguistic shrug or a soft excuse for not following through.
As the wise and wrinkly Yoda once said:
“Do. Or do not. There is no try.”
(Side note: Yoda might’ve made a great NLP trainer.)
Mind the gaps (And the commas)
It’s not just what we say — it’s how we write it. A misplaced comma or hyphen can completely change the meaning of a sentence. Sometimes hilariously. Sometimes… worryingly.
Take these gems:
“Let’s eat, Grandma.”
vs.
“Let’s eat Grandma.”
(Punctuation: saving lives daily!)
Or this road sign
“Slow children crossing.”
vs.
“Slow, children crossing.”
Are the kids slow… or just crossing slowly?
(I’ve noticed the NZ Transport Authority doesn’t seem to approve of punctuation — or they have a weird sense of humour.)
What about:
“Man-eating shark”
vs.
“Man eating shark”
Very different beach experiences. One is dinner. The other is having dinner.
So yes, language matters. A lot. Yet we underestimate the power of language. Especially when your safety — or dignity — might depend on it.
Questions that send your brain on a wild goose chase
Here’s something you might have done without realising it: Asked yourself a rubbish question. One that sounds helpful but actually makes things worse.
Example:
“Why can’t I ever find a job I love?”
Your brain hears that and thinks, “Great! Let’s list all the reasons you’re unemployable!” And off it goes, helpfully finding numerous reasons and tanking your confidence.
Better questions guide your brain somewhere useful:
- “How can I find a job I’ll love?”
- “What do I enjoy doing so much that I forget to check the time?”
- “How can I get paid well to do something I’m actually excited about?”
Those kinds of questions send your brain on a search — not a spiral. They open doors instead of slamming them.
So if you’ve ever doubted the power of language, just remember it can shape assumptions, spark misunderstandings, or leave you waiting in the rain for someone who said they’d “try.”
Back to the battlefield
So yes, in France I was regularly “off to war” to collect parcels. And while the locals may never have trusted me with national security, they did teach me something crucial: The tiniest change in pronunciation — or vocabulary — can spark completely different thoughts, feelings, and responses.
Which is why I now pay a lot more attention to the words people use — and the ones I use myself.
The power of language
Language creates realities. Moods. Memories. Misunderstandings. And laughter — which is so important for our mental and emotional wellbeing.
Like this absolute beauty, spotted on a café sign:
“Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy.”
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Tags: Communication skills, Fun and laughter, Interpersonal skills, Language, Managing mood and emotions, Podcasts and audio tips
