1. On 7,000 languages in the world
“There are about 7,000 languages spoken around the world…” (1:49)
For most of my life, I didn’t think much about languages beyond English and French. It wasn’t until I started traveling that I realized why: in so many places, when two people don’t share a language, they default to English. I’d always heard it called the “universal language,” but in Lisbon I see it in action almost daily. Dutch people meeting Germans, Estonians chatting with Spaniards, and the common ground is always English. Meanwhile, I’ve been working on learning Portuguese, and that effort has made me appreciate translation tools and bilingual friends even more. They open doors into worlds of meaning I wouldn’t otherwise have access to.
2. On Russian speakers distinguishing between light and dark blue as two separate colours for which we cannot use the same word to describe
“Russian speakers think of these two colours as being more different”. (19:25)
This reminded me of paint shopping at Home Depot, staring at swatches called “sky mist,” “ocean surf,” and “navy dawn.” When I see these colours, I know they aren’t the same, but I only notice the differences if I slow down and really try to absorb them. It made me realize that without specific words for each shade, I’m slower to see them as different. Meaning, language doesn’t just label what I notice, it sharpens how I perceive it.
3. On grammatical gender influencing art
“About 78% of the time you can predict the gender in the personification (of the concept) from the gender in the artists’s native language”. (25:35)
Even though English doesn’t gender nouns, this made me think about how English does subtly push images. For example, I always imagined “death” as a grim reaper with a masculine energy, probably because cartoons and Halloween costumes trained me that way. Once I heard someone casually say “Mother Nature versus Father Time,” and it clicked that English does assign gender metaphorically. It reminded me that even in a supposedly “neutral” language, we still absorb gendered ideas without realizing it.
4. Counting without number words
“Deaf signers who have never learned a set of number words in their sign aren’t able to do these very simple number matching tasks.” (38:40)
Boroditsky explains that in some languages, speakers lack exact number words, which makes even basic counting difficult. It shows that something I take for granted, like counting, is really a learned linguistic skill. Her comparison to improvising music felt exactly right: what seems effortless to one person can feel impossible to another without the right framework. It blew my mind to realize that for those of us who grow up with number words, counting feels obvious, while for others it simply doesn’t exist. Both examples show how fluency depends on the structures we practice, whether in numbers, music, or language.
5. The importance of what a thing is called
“The word prune lives in a bad linguistic neighbourhood”. (41:50)
Boroditsky points out that the word prune carries a negative image for many people, but when marketers began selling the same food as dried plums, sales went up. This shows how much power a single word has in shaping perception. I’ve noticed this in my own life, I’m much more likely to try a dish if it’s described with appetizing words like artisan or fresh, even if it’s something ordinary. It made me think about how often English repackages familiar things with new labels, and how easily I’m influenced by the framing. It connects back to Boroditsky’s main point: language doesn’t just describe reality, it changes the way we see it.
6. Can language really change thinking?
“You can disrupt people’s ability to naturally use language by giving them a set of words to repeat over and over again”. (43:30)
I wish Boroditsky had expanded on this point. It made me realize how little I know about what happens in the brain when language is overloaded or disrupted. What other cognitive processes are disrupted that seemingly had no linguistic connection? I would like to learn more about the research behind this finding. How taking language away by repeating a certain set of words.
The bag I photographed is one I picked up from a favourite café in Montreal, but it’s now serving me daily in Lisbon, Portugal. Lisbon is a city of steep hills, narrow streets, and endless stairs, and since I don’t have a car here, everything I bring home must be carried by hand. My tote bag has become essential for this reason, and I usually tuck an extra rolled-up bag inside in case I stumble across something unexpected at the market or on my walks.