To name something is to begin losing it

The instant you put a name to an emotion, it stops being an ocean and becomes a word. You gain control. You lose nuance.

Saying "I am sad" tidies you, calms you, gives you something to hold on to. But that word is a small box for something that had no shape: perhaps it was sadness, yes, but also tiredness, and longing, and a sting that resembled nothing at all.

Language is a map, and maps lie out of necessity: they simplify so that you can find your way. The trouble begins when we mistake the map for the territory and believe we only feel what we know how to name.

Keep a space for what has no word yet. That is where you truly live.