Early in my time in China, I asked a coworker if she noticed anything Americans do that is strange. "You're always fighting, even with your best friend," she said. She had never seen me fight with my friend, so I was dumbfounded, until I realized she was referring to a philosophical debate she'd overheard. Though the disagreement was passionate, my friend and I would hardly have considered it a fight. According to that coworker, many Chinese wouldn't dare tell their friend to "shut your mouth when you speak to me" or tell them, "your logic is so dumb I'm concerned you don't have object permanence", because the insults would be viewed as antithetical to social harmony.

It was not the first time I noticed differences in communication between Chinese and Americans.

For all scientists have learned about language, many questions about its origins are still answered with, "Beats me." We can explain a language's phonology, semantics, grammar, pragmatics, and register, describe individual words with pages of definitions and examples, and measure how our body language supports or denies what we say. Yet, when our brother says," You're an absolute idiot," we are likely to think, "I wonder what he meant by that?"

Words are metaphors, serving as vessels to comprehend abstract notions. Each language possesses an interior logic, influencing how its speakers structure sentences and understand words. This uniqueness extends beyond mere vocabulary; it permeates the fabric of expression, shaping thoughts and ideas. Regardless of how adept one becomes at communicating, how many dictionaries they've read, or how many public speaking courses they've attended, they cannot guarantee that the listener understands them correctly. Odds are quite good that the listener wasn't listening at all.

Each language barrier exists within speakers of the same language, between the closest of friends, and between mother and child. What do you do when you are in a foreign land, participating in a foreign culture? Beats me.

When I moved to Beijing in 2013, I worked with a British man who had lived in China for a decade and spoke Chinese fluently. He told me it takes about 10 years to fully understand the culture. Either I'm daft, or he was trolling me. It might be both.

I can confidently say that after all this time, I'm even more confused than I was then. The concepts and ideas I learn about Chinese culture expand endlessly, and I suspect that will always be true. If I'm lucky, I'll have another 30 years of life, less time than more intelligent men than I have spent studying culture.

Perhaps I'm not meant to understand China. There is acceptance and peace in that thought. With my expat friends, I will banter and taunt, and with my Chinese friends, I will ask questions to avoid giving the impression I am fighting with them. I will embrace cross-cultural confusion and persist in understanding my Chinese friends, family, coworkers and neighbors, because that knowledge bears gifts of wisdom and joy. My life is better for it.