Noticing recently the effect that the way we structure our sentences has on the emotions that are elicited, and the how those repetitive sound structures held far out in the fields of our subconscious (Jesus, that's a far out sentence) or unconscious, waiting for a life situation to stimulate them so they can run their patterns.
It's been fascinating me since learning NVC to see how interwoven the way we use language is with the things we feel about our experience. And how much of how we use language is a way to objectify the world around us. It's like I'm relying on my descriptions to be some kind of constant. I apply them voraciously to processes as if they were that thing I've just said, because I've just said so.
A nice table is a nice table because I say so (and I'll contest anyone who disagrees as soon as I begin bond my identity to that). So now I forget (or never even considered) that it's a dynamic process of matter moving in slow motion, that once was air and water, then soil, then tree, then table. And albeit currently in an ergonomic and aesthetically pleasing form that meets many of my needs, it is also in long term decay to becoming probably soil again, or the constituents of some little termite colony. With any luck it will maintain its integrity as a nice table until I finish writing, after that though it can do what it wants.