The Language That Shapes Us.

REtake: The Language That Shapes Us

My wife and I were in Tokyo on vacation. It was a beautiful fall day and we decided to walk from our hotel to the sumo museum. At an intersection, three well dressed gentlemen approached chatting amongst themselves in Japanese.  

And I got an idea.  

As they neared, I bowed my head and said, “Ohayou gozaimasu,” a respectful form of good morning in Japan. I was proud of myself.
I crushed it.

Two of them responded in kind. The third, said “Good morning” with a broad smile and deep bow. And I stumbled through a broken good morning. Shocked that my English was worse than the Japanese I had just spoken.

It did not play out as I imagined in my head.

What should have been hard, was easy. And two words I spoke multiple times every day became muddy—at best.

REfocus: Language Before Intention

We don’t begin with decisions.
We start with words.

In Japan, I rehearsed my Japanese before I even opened my mouth. I respected the moment enough to prepare for it. What never crossed my mind was that I’d need to be just as ready in my in my own language.  

I assumed English would be ready on command.
It always had.

That’s how it usually works.
Before we take a step.
Before we choose.
Before we change direction. 

We reach for words.

And most of the time we don’t choose them—they were chosen for us.  
Language learned early.
Repeated often.
Reinforced quietly.  

Many of us carry internal sentences that show up even before we realize a decision is being made. A running script. A mental checklist. Words that feel like instinct—but are really rehearsed. They may come from TV, digital media, or something we read that left an impact.  

Some of them come from what we’ve watched.
Some come from what we’ve read.
Many from voices we trusted—or feared.

A parent.
A boss.
A leader who meant well but never understood how language lands.  

Language doesn’t just describe what we’re doing—it trains us how to stand while we do it. It shapes posture. It sets pace.  

Language decides what feels normal.

Words build voice.
Voice builds belief.
Belief decides action.  

And somewhere along the way, many of us started confusing endurance with health. 

We learned language that keeps us moving.
Keeps us producing.
Keeps us functioning.  

Until it doesn’t.  

 “I’ve got this.”
 “I’m better than this.”
 “Let’s go!”
“Just push through!” 

Useful words. Even effective. But not always honest words.
Because language can keep us operational while quietly pulling us apart. It can help us perform while disconnecting us—from others, and eventually from ourselves.  

That’s not failure.
That’s unexamined language doing exactly what it was taught to do.
Fixing our internal or external language isn’t the answer. It would be as clumsy as my “good morning” in Tokyo—technically correct, emotionally off.

  Noticing is the first step.  

It’s recognizing the language we use with ourselves—in our words, our stories, our quiet assumptions. And doing so without: 

Judgement.
Solutions.
Agenda.

 This isn’t about trading for better words.
Its about learning the ones already shaping us.  

Two simple letters—an R and E—when put together create space for that kind of attention.  Not because they solve anything but because they slow us down long enough to notice what’s already at work.  

Not a solution—a posture.
Not a fix—a framework.  

RE points the way back to the words we use with ourselves and with others—before they harden into belief or slip quietly into behavior. It invites us to return, revisit, and reconsider the language we’ve been living inside, often without realizing it.  

Language isn’t something to push through or power past.  When examined, it becomes a tool—one that can move us toward thriving, not just surviving.  

Before the verb—the action, the effort, the change—sits the prefix RE. It’s the open invitation offering: 

Space to pause.
Space to reflect.
Space to revisit.
Space to re-engage.  

Re doesn’t require. It gives permission. 

We look forward to hearing your RE story.