Sometimes I search very seriously for an answer. I read books. I ask people. I even ask AI. Strangely, the conclusions are often similar, yet the wording can be completely different.

Some answers stay with me the moment I hear them. Others linger, and no matter how long I think about them, they never quite make sense. It reminds me of school. The same class, the same lesson some students grasp it immediately, while others struggle no matter how hard they try.

Later, I realized this says a lot about the teacher. Some teachers can take something complex and explain it through an everyday image, leaving you with a scene you remember for years. Others speak in tangled abstractions, layering concept upon concept, and students end up lost alongside them.

Gradually I understood something: expression is a responsibility. It is not about how profound you are, or how impressive your thoughts may seem. It is about whether you can place what you see into a position where someone else can receive it.

This also made me wonder about philosophers whose works are notoriously difficult. How were their ideas ever transmitted? Does the reader need to already possess a certain depth? But expecting everyone to reach that depth seems unrealistic.

Then it occurred to me: many ideas survive not because they were articulated perfectly the first time, but because generation after generation rephrased them in their own language.

Understanding is never a standardized answer. It feels more like alignment. When language, experience, and the present state of mind happen to overlap, the answer lights up.

So now, when I encounter something I don’t immediately understand, I no longer rush to doubt myself. Perhaps this time, that answer simply hasn’t found the right place to stand.



—— XC Scribbles · 壹佰零玖 CIX 💬