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We think in continuums, spectrums, ranges, degrees. We often act in terms of absolutes, but we think in terms of escalating orders of magnitude, ascending and descending scales.
We think about concepts as possibilities. We consider outcomes as perceptions of success or failure. We provide odds on the end results. We are practically fetishists about producing statistics on progress, regardless of the game. Despite Mr. Letterman's admonishment, we spend much of our time, energy, effort, and resources constantly making and measuring the wager, and comparatively little time simply enjoying the exhibition.
These distinctions of flavor, these nuances of meaning are nowhere more evident than in our language. We have so few words for love or happiness, yet we have so many to describe the selfishness of motive: to need, require, want, desire, lust, covet, long for, obsess, to have a moving reason, to be pressed, to be animated, to be compelled, to be induced, to be enticed, to be lured, to be tempted, to be tested, to be pushed, to be human.
We can arrange the words in some sort of order from the practical and pragmatic to the emotional and excessive. And even allowing for the odd differences of opinions on the relative strength of meaning of any given two words, we can still arrive at a fairly well ordered and agreeable listing.
The word motive is very straightforward. It comes from the Latin motus, meaning "a moving or a motion". Yet the degree of meaning from one context to the next is as rich as any other word in the language. Maybe that's why it's so hard to understand people, why it takes so long to truly "know" someone, and why it's so easy to screw-up a personal relationship.
We think about concepts as possibilities. We consider outcomes as perceptions of success or failure. We provide odds on the end results. We are practically fetishists about producing statistics on progress, regardless of the game. Despite Mr. Letterman's admonishment, we spend much of our time, energy, effort, and resources constantly making and measuring the wager, and comparatively little time simply enjoying the exhibition.
These distinctions of flavor, these nuances of meaning are nowhere more evident than in our language. We have so few words for love or happiness, yet we have so many to describe the selfishness of motive: to need, require, want, desire, lust, covet, long for, obsess, to have a moving reason, to be pressed, to be animated, to be compelled, to be induced, to be enticed, to be lured, to be tempted, to be tested, to be pushed, to be human.
We can arrange the words in some sort of order from the practical and pragmatic to the emotional and excessive. And even allowing for the odd differences of opinions on the relative strength of meaning of any given two words, we can still arrive at a fairly well ordered and agreeable listing.
The word motive is very straightforward. It comes from the Latin motus, meaning "a moving or a motion". Yet the degree of meaning from one context to the next is as rich as any other word in the language. Maybe that's why it's so hard to understand people, why it takes so long to truly "know" someone, and why it's so easy to screw-up a personal relationship.
