Two Sages and a Child

The Needle’s Eye of Our Language – and How to Lead a Camel Through It

Someone sits across from the consultant and begins to speak. He describes a situation that occupies him – in his own words, with the images and terms that are natural to him.

The words that reach the consultant undergo the same inner process as in every human being: they are translated into the non‑verbal. Only then can our psyche process them. The result is no longer a sequence of words, but an inner configuration – a picture, a structure, an impression.

In this non‑verbal space the actual processing takes place – what we, when we catch fragments of it, experience as thinking. At the end there is a result that is not yet put into words – an inner configuration, clearly perceptible.

From this configuration, language arises again. Not to “depict” it – language cannot do that – but to shape it in such a way that it can be conveyed to the other, that it may stir something within them.

Here begins the true art: the sense for which form, which tone, which metaphor will create resonance in the other. One speaks differently with a fighter pilot than with a forest owner – not because one is more important than the other, but because both live in entirely different inner landscapes. Two worlds, the same psychological core – and the task of bringing it to life in the language of the other.

We can represent a scent inwardly – but we cannot “depict” it in words. If words nevertheless succeed in evoking a scent, it is not because language itself has a fragrance, but because it points to something already stored non‑verbally within the recipient.

Floral, with a hint of citrus, a trace of musk and leather – such a description only works if the other knows what lemon, musk, or fine leather smell like. The words are not the scent. They are the key to a memory that lies beyond language.

Anyone who has ever read a fragrance description and then ordered on that basis knows this effect: the decision was not made because of the words themselves, but because of the inner images and memories they triggered.

In consultation it is the same: we speak in order to generate inner images. The psyche translates our words into its own language – and only if this translation succeeds can what is said have an effect. Language always ends non‑verbally within us – and precisely therein lies its power.

For language to work in consultation, it must be more than correctly chosen words. It must be fashioned so that it evokes within the other what is meant – as an image, as a feeling, as an inner scene. If this translation into the non‑verbal does not succeed, the message remains empty.

That is why the consultant chooses a language that can easily be carried into images: a metaphor from the guest’s familiar experience, a short story, an emotion, or even a non‑verbal gesture. Anything that helps bring the intended meaning to life within the other is part of this art. Only then has language fulfilled its purpose.

There is a theory that language marks the boundary of our knowledge. What we cannot put into words, it is said, we cannot think clearly – or at least not consciously. I tend to agree, though in an expanded sense: for me this applies not only to spoken or written words, but to every possible language.

For our inner language – images, sensations, spatial arrangements, smells, bodily feelings – is itself a form of language. Perhaps even one with more possibilities than any outward form of expression. Words, writing, dance, music, painting – all these are languages, but they are always already a translation from this richer inner space.

Perhaps this is why we sometimes follow an intuition even though it cannot be put into words. The inner language has already given us a complete picture, a clear tendency, a “knowing” – only it does not fit into the narrow channels of outer language. We sense it before we can say it.

Every language – whether verbal, visual, musical, or bodily – is a filter. It makes something visible, but it also leaves other things out. That is why stories, metaphors, music, or images are often closer to a truth we “feel” than a purely factual description. They connect to this inner language instead of replacing it. They leave space for what cannot be fully translated – and precisely therein lies their power.

An image that comes to me again and again is this: Imagine two immensely wise people, each dwelling on a mountain peak. They wish to exchange their wisdom – but only a small child knows the path from one peak to the other. So they send it back and forth with their messages.

The child has little understanding of the deep wisdom it is to carry. Therefore each sage must tell the child something it can grasp itself – otherwise it would forget the message along the way. The two sages know: the child will only remember what it finds engaging. So they clothe their messages in little stories, images, and comparisons the child understands. Instead of speaking of “quantum interference,” they might tell of a mysterious being that sometimes takes on a solid form and sometimes becomes a wave of light and motion. Thus the child carries not just words, but a living scene – and the colleague on the neighbouring peak can recover the full wisdom from it.

Our language is this child: it runs back and forth between the inner geniuses of two partners in conversation. Only if we use it rightly do we create in the other the image we ourselves see.

This form of “storytelling” places consultation in a tradition as old as humanity itself. The ancient stories, myths, fables – what we now call fairy tales – all sought to carry something essential: an experience, an insight, a truth. They did so in the only possible way: by letting images, scenes, and feelings arise within the listeners.

It works the same way today. Whether at the fire, in the village, in the theatre, or in the consulting room – the language that works is always the one that comes alive within the other.

Most likely, what will remain from this text is the image of the two gurus with their “territorial rights,” when you later recall it. And precisely this image will, if you consider the content relevant, serve as the bridge back to the thoughts behind it. If that is the case, then with this small passage I have created within you exactly the inner image that I myself have seen.

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