Do you find wonderment that a word can have so many meanings
and that only in the context of other words does its meaning become clear?
Take the word “line,” for example. Mathematically, a line is a one-dimensional
figure with length but no width. Geometrically, it’s similar, an infinitely long
object with no depth and no curvature. There can be vertical, horizontal, oblique
parallel and perpendicular lines (again it’s a matter of its relationship to other lines).
Lines can be used to divide space or mark borders like a state line or county line
or longitudinal or latitudinal lines. In poetry a line is a sequence of words that
stretches from left to right and stops at the end of a natural pause unless the poet
is trying to be clever and then it becomes enjambment. A group of lines is called
a stanza and a stanza or poem of three lines is a tercet, five lines, a quintain, seven lines
a septet, nine lines, a nonet, ten lines, a dizain, eleven lines, terza rima, thirteen lines
a rondeau, and fourteen lines, a sonnet (and on and on). Then there are telephone lines
and its antiquated partner, the party line (which these days has a politically ominous meaning).
There are fishing lines and lines of cocaine. There is line dancing with steps like
the cupid shuffle, the cha cha slide, the wobble and the cotton-eyed joe. The one line
I have the saddest memories of is “lines written on a blackboard” for punishment.
So, to make your way through this aggregation of lines, or indeed words, you have to
“shift through the madness” and keep in mind the importance of relationships.