# Exploring the Emotional Depth of Language Learning
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Chapter 1: The Connection Between Language and Personal Eras
This summer, I embarked on a journey of starting and revisiting numerous languages, yet I encountered an invisible barrier. The question arises: Can a language remain relevant if it only exists within a singular time frame? Is it essential for a language to endure across various personal transformations to foster a deep emotional connection?
To begin, let's clarify what we mean by "era." For someone like me, who experiences geographical instability, defining eras is relatively straightforward. I have multiple versions of myself: Boston Chris, Sydney Chris, Wisconsin Chris, Vermont Chris, and so on.
Within these geographical phases, there are also "sub-eras." For instance, my time working in a Wisconsin kitchen was distinct from my role as the lead designer for a luxury custom tiny home builder, despite both experiences occurring from the same Milwaukee apartment.
Additionally, there are periods triggered by unforeseen changes. You might maintain the same job, reside in the same place, and socialize with the same people, yet a simple rustling of leaves in autumn can stir unexpected emotional shifts. Suddenly, you find yourself in a new personal era without any apparent changes to your surroundings.
Initially, I find these unexpected transitions challenging. As someone who prefers control over emotional dynamics, I would rather initiate my own changes. However, sometimes, the universe seems intent on orchestrating these transformations for us. History shows that such personal shifts are often necessary; without them, our emotional well-being can become stagnant.
The beauty of transitioning between eras lies in what and who endures through them. When I relocated from Boston to Sydney, a lengthy flight away, the friends who continued to reach out became even more significant to me. The mentors I left behind, who maintained contact, transcended our original professional relationships, making me feel valued even after I was no longer a productive asset. This acknowledgment fueled my desire to strive harder in life and ignited dreams of collaborating with them on future projects.
I perceive languages as living entities, and I've noticed that similar principles apply to them.
This summer, I struggled to connect emotionally with Japanese, primarily because it was confined to a single era of my life. All languages inevitably begin within a single timeframe, which can make genuine emotional investment difficult at first.
To overcome this challenge, I forced myself to study Finnish intensely, dedicating 6 to 12 hours daily in the fall of 2022. Although the experience was emotionally taxing, a deeper intuition indicated that this was the right path for me. Thankfully, I had prior exposure to Finnish and even visited Finland, which provided context and familiarity.
My initial Finnish experience felt more cohesive than if I had started from scratch. However, my emotional connection to Finnish truly evolved in the winter of 2023 when I accepted a new lead design position in Portland, Oregon. This transition allowed my Finnish studies to bridge into a new emotional era, enduring the upheaval of a cross-country move.
Significant life changes—such as geographic relocations, career shifts, and the ebb and flow of relationships—have a way of shedding the excess "fluff" from our lives. This makes it challenging to develop a solid commitment to a language if it has only been tested within a singular era. A new language might simply represent the surplus "fluff" that gets discarded during a major life shift.
Our subconscious continually questions, "Will this language endure through the highs and lows of life?"
Revisiting French this summer was enchanting because it connected me to my 14-year-old self as a high school freshman. Reactivating my French skills at 34 must hold some deeper significance. Interestingly, I approached Mandarin with enthusiasm this spring, despite having no prior experience. Watching C-Dramas transported me back to my time living in China in 2017, creating an immediate emotional resonance with the language from day one.
Counterintuitively, the optimal moment to learn a new language may be just before a major life transformation. This approach allows the language to "bridge" various eras, fostering a stronger emotional connection. Stable periods may not always be conducive to language acquisition; without the winds of change, the journey can stagnate.
As I revisit Japanese in New York, I anticipate a richer experience than when I pursued it in isolation in Vermont. I view a language as a steadfast companion, one that remains by our side through both joyful and challenging times. This emotional investment unleashes our resilience and perseverance.