How we know for sure that all men are a bunch of m*ckity-mucks

Pardon my French. It seems like swearing and F-bombs are par for the course in a lot of blogs and newsletters I receive, and I really admire all those of you who can swear like sailors, but I'm just not very good at it yet. So, you'll probably see words like "m*ckety-mucks" in my writing. Sorry, not sorry.

But I digress. We were going to talk about how we know things. Like that thing, we all know about men.

Let's start with something simpler than men. Like a ball.

I know what a ball is like. In my illustrious career as a middle-school volleyball player, I have had reddened forearms from the tougher old ones slamming down on me from the opposing team's best spiker. I remember how lovely it was to play with new, softer ones. I can smell the scent of the vinyl as it comes out of the box.

My shoulders used to dislocate regularly, so I had notes from the doctor saying that I could serve underhand, thus frightening the other team with my "marshmallow serves" as they became known ("bullet serves" was used sarcastically on occasion). I can still feel the peach-like surface on my left palm as I would steel my right arm for a gentle "bop", which would, surprisingly enough, usually send the ball over the net. Balls are white and round.

One of my mates was a national rugby player from New Zealand. He also knows what balls are like and has hundreds of sights, sounds, smells, and feelings around them. But I am honestly completely blind to what a ball must be like for him. I'm not even sure if I've ever held a rugby ball. I've never watched a rugby match. Are they brown? Oblong? Multi-colored? What do you do with them? I imagine it involves flinging one's whole body onto the ground with a pack of other men?

Each of us has a wealth of experiences, including sights, sounds, feelings, smells, and tastes associated around the simplest of words. Our experiences color how we experience the world through words. If I asked 10 people to draw a ball, they would draw 10 completely different things, with different sizes, colors, shapes, movements, backgrounds, and contexts.

So, imagine when the words get more complex. When you use the word "men", what do you experience? What do you know about them that I don't? What would happen if what you knew about all men wasn't completely accurate? 

Consider taking a look at any person or object. What if what you know is a matter of the past? What else might this thing mean?

With love, (what do you know about that word?) 

Christi

I jumped back in terror! and then laughed...
What is your body saying that you're not?

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