James Knows Understanding …


I love the podcast 10 Percent Happier... Today, I listened to the latest episode on my commute to work.

It gave me a couple of great reminders for what I am working on, observing around me, and meditating on these days. I am sharing this to document my thoughts, but also for anyone feeling any feels that can relate – or need the reminder (like I do) – because we’re not all perfect, but I really believe we are all out here trying our very best …

In the episode of the podcast, Dan (the host) quotes the great Thích Nhất Hạnh who wisely stated that another word for LOVE is UNDERSTANDING.
In my own limited life experience, understanding has always required more than what we often believe it to be; it isn’t memorization, analysis or categorization – at least not when it comes to human emotion.

Firsly, most importantly, and also one of the most challenging parts of understanding requires only listening (in silence) – to the story (or whatever). I want to say that one shoud avoid judgement, but this is not always natural or reasonable for any human – as much as we’d love to believe we are masters of our minds – we cannot always control the judgemental mind. Judgement is a human thing, it is protective – we develop this skilll of judging and it is useful in many ways otherwise. What we can do when trying to understand, is keep this judgement to ourselves (hence the silence): let it remain in the rumination of the mind until after we experience the being with fully (i.e. listening attentively). Only then can we find enough distance from that judgement that being with the other allows. The truth is, often with a bit of silence and listening comes the space to reflect- and these judgements fall away; replaced by true understanding.

This is love. The will to listen, without an agenda, an aim to fix, or solve, or prove that you know (better)- even if you are an expert on the topic – i.e. you studied, you read, you researched the data .. Human emotion cannot be reduced to data and your experience of it does not make it real or true for anyone else.


True understanding is not about you – It’s about connection, it’s about this love thing…

Understand – the English term, has roots in both Sanskrit and Latin – the prefix references not being beneath (under), but standing with, or among from the Latin comprehendere – to take together, to unite ( com – with, together; pre– before; hender/ghend – to seize with the mind).

It’s about how you can show your connection to the other person (being with). Listening, so you can be with them, hear how it feels for them without speaking, before (pre) letting your mind take over (seizing with the mind) to solve, advise, etc.

No advice is required if we want to validate someone’s experience of pain – or whatever they are sharing. In fact this act (advising – stating your opinion), even when attached to the best of intentions can be invalidating. The other person hears “Your best is not good enough,” “You’re doing it wrong,” “I (know better and) see it this way …” and many other versions of similar invalidating statements. One need only remember their own teenage years to really feel this on a personal level.


As an educator, and a learner – I believe that for the most part, we are all doing our very best and we all learn and grow into better versions of ourselves. So, being there, in the darkness with someone and really believing this – that they are doing the best they can right now, the same way you believe you are doing the same, is enough. No one needs to hear that you understand (in the sense of having been through the same or similar situation), if you don’t. It just feels nice to have someone sit with you so you’re not alone, sometimes.


Being with – is loving, and it requires no work at all, just time and enough courage to keep quiet. In the words of one of my favourite musicians James, sometimes the most understanding of acts is just sitting with someone.

“Those who feel the breath of sadness
Sit down next to me
Those who find they’re touched by madness
Sit down next to me
Those who find themselves ridiculous
Sit down next to me…”

This is true understanding as I see it.

What do Yoga, “French Theory,” and Translation have in common?

Yoga today, in the West, is most popularly associated with thin, young white women, contorting their bodies into pretzel-like shapes. But many who practice, tend to develop an ensuing curiosity about how these practices came to be; they see it as so much more than “exercise.” It is often described as a lifestyle (not a religion), by Western yogis: they often use the Sanskrit yoga terms, and their own travels to the East as markers of legitimacy. Being a yogi myself since my early teens, and having finally committed to completing a teacher training, I have come across some angst among yogis who are well-intention, regarding the possible appropriation of an Eastern philosophy, and it speaks to my translator’s heart.

Translation theory, is weaved into the crossing over of this Eastern philosophy. I will even go so far as to compare it with the crossing over of another philosophy (or group of philosophies), I recently researched: that of “French theory,” or poststructuralism.

The concepts that spread on the American content related to the rise of “French theory” – the ideas of a handful of (originally) French philosophers – actually gained more popularity on this side of the Atlantic, than that which they experienced in France. In France, their ideas were quickly forgotten after the May ’68 era. But on the American continent, they gave rise to concepts that we are still developing and unfolding in their more modern iterations: feminism, postcolonialism, and now giving rise to the new diversity and inclusivity movements, to name only a few.

What most people do not realize is that translation had a powerful hand in all of this: “French theory” is actually non-existent, in France[1]. Those founding French thinkers’ ideas were translated, and the translators were largely responsible for the spread of these ideas in America. They translated them for the American audience, and the American audience interpreted them in a way that served their own socio-political context.[2]

Something interesting happens when ideas are translated. This genre (philosophy, or theory), based on ideas or concepts is a cross between creative writing, which is for the most part, subjective in nature, and more objective non-literary writing, which is as Joshua Price[3] says, is more “pragmatic.” These are the two realms Translation Studies traditionally categorizes texts into: literary and non-literary. When we, as translators, translate philosophical texts we need to bring into our translation process, the creativity of our own minds, and espouse to it, the skill of translating pragmatic texts that are meant to discuss subjects that contribute to a “universal” conversation.

In translation studies, the controversy holds that the resulting translation of a philosophical text cannot be an exact replica, considering the translator’s creative efforts and the impossibility of exactitude in translation, but something new. Translators work quietly in the background, not realizing the power they have in creating these new concepts.

With respect to “French theory,” from time to time, whole scholarly journals and conferences revolve around the discussion of whether or not it even exists, or if the name, “French theory” is appropriate. It is often called poststructuralism or even postmodernism.[4]

So, the question persists: does this mean it is appropriation? This is the question that translation researchers, like me, have grappled with.

One explanation we often come back to is: if philosophy itself, is conceptual work (revolving around ideas), can we really say that ideas belong to a specific person, or group of people? For this is what appropriation means – something has been taken from – which indicates that there is some sort of claim to possession. This is the conclusion I came to in my own research on “French theory” – there is no denying “French theory’s” existence (as some researchers have done[5]), if scholarly journals, papers, conferences, books refer to it by name – how can it be non-existent? Furthermore, it is not appropriation, for the name itself pays homage to the original group of philosophers, acknowledging the origins of the philosophies (or commentary – because many of those original texts were actually commentary on German philosophy, as Alfandary also explains – but that is a whole other discussion) it represents.

I think of yoga philosophy in this same way, it was translated when it came to the West, it could never be a replica of the yoga that exists in its source context. We use the word yoga and its many teachings, along with its Sanskrit references in our yoga classes – not to appropriate the culture, philosophy, or the many practices that yoga entails; but to acknowledge its roots. But many of the concepts related to yoga are present in other ancient Eastern cultures, in fact I can almost guarantee that if you enter a yoga studio in the West, you will likely see on their schedule, some form of yin or yang/yin class: a concept adapted from ancient Chinese Taoist philosophy. This harkens back to the thought of “French theorists” being commentators of German philosophy – only on a different scale. Yogis in the West are often criticized for “cultural appropriation,” from those unaware of what it is they are really doing when they reference Sanskrit names, or lineages; but this is exactly what this is: a reference. No scholar would use the ideas or words of another, without paying this same respect.

In my opinion, we need not to go so far as to memorize all of the Sanskrit names and lineages (although some do), or even adopt scripted acknowledgements; but continue to use the Sanskrit references, when we can, put effort into learning their pronunciation, seek to learn more, listen to those that do know more – that have grown up in these traditions – give credit where it is indeed merited. This is what I will continue to do, just as I continue to reference “French theory” as such.


[1] Angermuller, Johannes. Why There Is No Poststructuralism in France: The Making of an Intellectual Generation. Bloomsbury Academic, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2015.

[2]Cusset, François. French Theory: How Foucault, Derrida, Deleuze & Co. Transformed the Intellectual Life of the United States. University of Minnesota Press, 2008.

[3] Price, Joshua M. “Translating Social Science: Good versus Bad Utopianism.” Target: International Journal of Translation Studies, vol. 20, no. 2, Benjamins, 2008, pp. 348–64, doi:10.1075/target.20.2.09pri.

[4] It remained only to dub the final package ‘French theory’ (following the appellation that appeared in the second half of the 1970s), “poststructuralism” (for the purposes of intellectual history), or else “French postmodernism,” according to the term most often used by its detractors. (Cusset, 2008, p. 8)

[5] Alfandary, Isabelle. “Pourquoi la « French Theory » n’existe pas.” Palimpsestes, no. 33, Oct. 2019, pp. 214–26. DOI.org (Crossref), doi:10.4000/palimpsestes.4769.