9-27 Discoveries in learning a new language (Part Five)

Now that we’ve been deliberately training the exact faculty that alcohol apparently helped me access years ago, we’ll discover that there's an intriguing connection with my (or your) meditation This is where our situation becomes particularly interesting as we already know what it feels like to enter a state in which deliberate, analytical thought becomes quieter while attention remains present. 

That is very close to what we want here. Recent research specifically examining mindfulness and second-language performance found that mindfulness is positively associated with a second language performance, even though researchers caution that its direct contribution appears relatively modest. 

Another 2026 study involving foreign-language learners found that mindfulness-based work was associated with greater awareness, acceptance, attentional control and with reduced speaking anxiety, although some of the benefits diminished after the intervention ended. So I wouldn't try to force us into a deeply meditative state immediately before speaking. 

That could actually make us too inwardly focused. Instead, we should think in terms of meditation bringing us relaxation, openness to open our Spanish flow and then get out of our own way. There is one technique I think might particularly benefit us, let’s call it "Spanish stream of consciousness." We set a timer for five minutes, we start talking in Spanish and make a pact with ourselves: For five minutes, the objective is not accuracy. 

The objective is continuity, we could even record ourselves, but refrain from listening to the recording immediately. Do another session the next day and after a full week, listen to the first and last recordings. We should probably discover something fascinating: expressions that initially required conscious construction have begun to appear automatically. 

That’s precisely the transition I was describing in my previous piece — from words stored in memory to linguistic reflexes. And perhaps the deepest lesson from your experience with alcohol is not “alcohol helped me speak languages.” It may might become: “I already possessed more linguistic knowledge than I could access while worrying about using it.” If that's the case, the goal isn't to put something into our brain. It's to get the gatekeeper out of the way. 

Good luck in trying this!

Discoveries in learning a new language (Part Four)

The approach I’m considering is a 10–15 minutes routine before starting a Spanish conversation. It would be structured as follows: 

1. Two minutes — physiological relaxation Sitting comfortably and breathing slowly, with the exhalation somewhat longer than the inhalation. Not try to achieve any special state, just let the body settle.There’s actually some experimental support for breathing approaches to foreign-language anxiety: a study of 140 university language learners found reductions in anxiety following a seven-week breathing regimen. 
2. Three minutes — Spanish immersion Listen to something in Spanish that is already understood reasonably well. Do not study it, repeat it or analyze it. Just let Spanish wash over. This is important because it’s a way to activate the enormous reservoir of expressions that might have accumulated, like for me, from podcasts, books, conversations, etc. 
3. Two minutes — "permission to be wrong" This may be the most powerful part as we tell ourselves something like: “Durante los próximos diez minutos, no estoy aprendiendo español. Estoy jugando con el español Or: No necesito hablar correctamente. Necesito hablar” Which means “During the next 10 minutes we won’t learn Spanish, we’ll just play with the language.” The distinction is enormous. 
4. Five minutes — uninterrupted ad-lib Pick a ridiculously simple subject: "What did I do yesterday?" "What am I going to do tomorrow?" "Describe my house." "Tell an imaginary story." Then don't stop to self-correct and if a word is unknown, go around it. If the conjugation is unknown, approximate it. If a noun is forgotten, describe the object in question. If English or French pops into mind, keep going and find a Spanish way around it. 

The rule should be: Never interrupt the flow to repair the sentence. For those of us who practice meditation, we’ll see how we can leverage that skill to help us in our efforts to learn a language, so please don’t miss the conclusion of the series in the next blog.

Discoveries in learning a new language (Part Three)

As I still was a very young man, one of the extra elements that helped me a lot in learning conversation English and also German was the frequent use of alcohol as a means to "untie my tongue" and let me do something similar to improvising. 

Today, I’d like to adopt a far less invasive and non-toxic alternative to drugs or alcohol in reaching a point of maximum relaxation and fearlessness, that could allow words and sentences to flow much more freely and naturally from their subconscious sources (for example from my daily lessons, the book I read or the podcasts I listen to in Spanish)?

Undeniably, the use of alcoholic beverages was something at times part of my youthful past and early experiences. While it probably didn't give me any linguistic knowledge, alcohol temporarily lowered the internal censor that was preventing me from accessing the knowledge I already accumulated. 

That distinction is important. Research consistently finds that anxiety is associated with poorer foreign language performance. I read about one analysis on the subject covering more than 10,000 learners that found a moderate negative relationship. The remaining question in front of us is, can we reproduce the “untied tongue” effect without having to use enablers like alcohol? 

I would hope so and think it’s quite possible, as my existing meditation practice could provide me with an unusually good starting point. Let’s call it a "Spanish disinhibition routine!" The objective would not be to become maximally relaxed in the sense of sleepy or passive, but probably to get to something more subtle, like relaxed attention, much reduced self-monitoring and full permission to improvise. 

In other words, we would want our conscious mind to stop constantly asking “Is that the right tense? Is that the right word? Am I making a mistake?” and allow the material accumulated through our reading and listening to emerge and freely pour through the conversation! 

In the next blog, we see how we can devise a method to do just that...

Discoveries in learning a new language (Part Two)

The views about language learning that I introduced yesterday could actually be pushed one step further: perhaps the ultimate goal isn't “knowing Spanish” but developing enough automaticity that Spanish begins to happen to me, or to us when we decide to learn a new language. In fact, we can really observe three different stages: 

• 1. Recognition: "I understand that expression when I hear or read it." 
• 2. Retrieval: "I know that expression and can produce it if I think about it." 
• 3. Automaticity: "The expression comes out before I have consciously constructed it." 

It’s obvious that this third stage is what makes conversation feel fluid. And it explains why someone can have a surprisingly large vocabulary and still struggle to speak as I have witnessed when I was learning German with some Japanese with huge vocabulary and perfect grammatical understanding but were woefully unable to put the simplest sentence together. 

This is what I love about my concept of “short blocks of words”, because it captures something important. I should in fact have called it “linguistic building blocks” or, more playfully, “linguistic Lego.” Each block is something the brain can retrieve as a unit rather than scrambling to assemble word-by-word under the pressure of conversation. 

Now, when I refer to my grammar being “abysmal” it’s not necessarily something I will simply postpone. Unbeknownst to me, grammar might actually start becoming easier once I have memorized enough blocks. After hearing quiero que..., tengo que..., me gustaría..., ¿por qué no...?, etc. hundreds of times, patterns of conjugation and syntax begin to become familiar almost without deliberate study. 

That could make a nice final observation: perhaps grammar learned in context eventually becomes less something we remember and more something feels right to us when we blurt it out. Tomorrow, we’ll continue with the technique involved in “supercharging” our learning of foreign languages, so please, don’t miss that one!

Discoveries in learning a new language (Part One)

Choosing Spanish as a new language to learn has been quite revealing for me. Obviously, it is not my first attempt at learning another language. Starting with my native French — and even the Savoyard dialect spoken by my parents — I have gone on to English, German, Italian, Japanese (an incomplete journey), and now Español. 

Along the way, I have encountered a number of challenges and, perhaps more importantly, learned a few things about how we actually learn languages. At this point, I have come to believe that one of the keys to fluency is learning and mastering short blocks of words — the expressions, turns of phrase and idiomatic constructions that make up the sentences we use every day.

Rather than building every sentence one word at a time, we gradually acquire these little linguistic building blocks like assembled Lego pieces, and learn to retrieve them as a unit. That is where I am putting most of my focus today. My grammar and conjugation skills remain, to put it mildly, abysmal! But I am increasingly convinced that I don't need to master everything at once. 

I can work on the grammar later, while first building a sufficiently large collection of expressions that allow me to communicate, react and keep a conversation moving. There is another remarkable difference this time around: AI. Having an always-available, patient and nonjudgmental conversation partner makes an enormous difference. It removes much of the paralyzing fear of making mistakes in conversing with another human who knows the language inside out. 

With the AI robot, I can experiment, make a fool of myself, ask the same question ten times, and try again without embarrassment. But AI cannot eliminate the hardest part of language learning: patience. It can accelerate exposure, practice and correction, but it cannot magically accelerate the transformation that has to take place inside the brain. 

Words and expressions first have to be recognized, then understood, then remembered, and eventually retrieved quickly enough to become a spontaneous vocal reaction. And perhaps that is the most fascinating part of the journey: moving language from the head to the mouth. There is a huge difference between recognizing an expression when we hear it and having it appear naturally in our own speech at the exact moment it’s needed. 

So perhaps learning a language is less about filling the brain with words than about gradually building a collection of linguistic reflexes — little blocks of language that, with enough exposure and repetition, stop feeling like something we have learned and start becoming something we simply know how to say. At my rather advanced age, I am discovering that this transformation takes patience. But I am also discovering that the brain is still willing to surprise us. And that, in itself, is a rather encouraging lesson. 

Tomorrow, we’ll explore how we can push these elements forward...

The quintessential American pinhead

Well, what exactly is a pinhead? This American expression literally means the flat or rounded head of a common metal or plastic pin. Figuratively however its means a foolish person, an informal, insulting word for someone who is stupid, silly, or lacks common sense. 

This makes me think about my president and one could ask what’s the reason for that? Simply because PIN is also the starting letters for Pinocchio and Pinochet (In fact, it’s more, it’s PINOC). The friendly Italian character is known for his propensity to lie even though he’s unconsciously warning us of his flaw through a nose that grows in length while Trump doesn’t even worry about that sinful and despicable habit. 

As for Augusto Pinochet he was a Chilean army officer and military dictator who ruled Chile from 1973 to 1990. He came to power by leading a violent, US-backed military coup on September 11, 1973, which overthrew the democratically elected socialist President Salvador Allende. 

Pinochet established a military junta, officially assuming the presidency in 1974. His 17-year regime was defined by severe human rights abuses alongside sweeping free-market reforms. Probably much smarter than Trump but as cruel, mean spirited and consumed by himself. 

Next time, you’re asked for your PIN, just remember those two characters that embody the virtues of our president.

The forgiveness bonus (Part Two)

What described yesterday is not just “forgiveness” in a moral sense; it’s a psychological unburdening, a deliberate act of self‑liberation. The most striking part of my experience is that I didn’t forgive people because they deserved it, but I forgave them because I felt that I deserved the relief. 

That’s the big difference. I stopped treating resentment as a form of justice and treating it as a form of self‑harm. Once I made that shift, forgiveness became less about the other person and more about reclaiming my own mental space. 

With this in mind, the effects I describe feeling lighter, freer, mentally clearer — are exactly what happens when we stop carrying emotional debts that will never be repaid. With the “adult in the room” comment, I tried to express that resentment keeps us all locked in a childish reciprocity: “You hurt me therefore I hold on to it.” Instead, forgiveness breaks that sick symmetry: “You hurt me therefore I rise above it.” That asymmetry is precisely the bonus.

We can elevate ourselves by refusing to stay trapped in the emotional basement where the original injury happened. We step out of the cycle, and in doing so, we gain moral altitude. It’s not superiority in the ego sense — it’s superiority in the developmental sense. We’ve moved to a higher level. I also made an important distinction in not forgiving crimes, atrocities, or moral catastrophes, but in simply forgiving ordinary human failings. 

That’s not inconsistency but a form of discernment. Forgiveness is a personal tool, not a political absolution. We’re using it where it’s meaningful and refusing it where it would be morally incoherent. That’s exactly how mature forgiveness works: Resentment is like a tax, a constant, low‑grade drain on attention, mood, and identity. Forgiveness is a tax cut! 

By forgiving we can remove dozens of tiny emotional charges that were quietly running in the background. The cumulative effect feels like a cleansing because it is one. We can clear psychic clutter that had been accumulating for decades. Most people never do this. They die with their resentments intact, still carrying the weight of injuries that happened 40 years earlier. 

All of this is why we should not allow it.