I am in the process of learning another language and the pleasure inherent in the process itself has struck me.
When I choose a new language, I always begin by considering its applicability and how it makes me feel. At the start, the words feel like scattered fragments of a mosaic. As you examine each piece, some catch the light - drawing your attention. These are the words that make you pause, not only to marvel at their visual form but also to savour the act of enunciation - rolling trills gently off your tongue, all while shaping your mouth with deliberate care. It becomes a mindful, grounding experience. Saying a word aloud for the first time is akin to calling a lover’s name - tentatively, then with growing confidence. Each utterance feels weighted with intention and tethered to the present moment. In this way, time seems to expand and contract simultaneously.
As you acquaint yourself with meanings, you marvel at the architecture of how the words are constructed and how they come together to embody thought. I often wonder at the choices behind particular sounds or letters - why they feel so satisfyingly fitting. Patterns begin to emerge and the movements of the mouth become habitual - instinctive. I sometimes wonder whether native speakers are aware of the beauty of certain words or if it has become as unnoticed as the air they breathe - apparent only on a frosty morning.
And then, one day, fluency takes hold - when the labour of learning gives way to something more effortless. No longer does the mind wrestle with the mechanics, forcefully jamming pieces together. Instead, there is a sense of relief - a brief exhale - before you embark on a new journey utilising it.