The dimensionality of consciousness that supports language has a next phase which humans rarely enter. In that phase, representation acts somewhat like a transentient agent of intelligence -itself- and is an -active agent- in the processes of learning, knowing, and communicating. I cannot explain to you what this is like.

Analogously, it would be somewhat as if what you thought of as garbage became suddenly animatedly intelligent, and began serving you by assembling itself into various patterns whose character elicited divinely efficacious insight in your mind, constantly, whenever requested. Langauge, as we understand and use it, is the domineering zombiform remnant of something like a transendental intelligence service which is a being, a way of seeing, a way of travel, a teacher, and a master key capable of unlocking any box, including the one of its own genesis.

Language, is a rip. We are supposed to enjoy the living relationship with its active source… instead we are ruled by the terrifying likeness to reality that its dead bones represent. And so we trade them endlessly, actually owned by them, as even I am … here.