Imagine living in a world where there are no words for colors. Imagine not having any numbers or numeral concepts beyond "a few" and "many." Imagine having no written language, no creation myths, no art, and no fictional stories.

Congratulations, you just imagined being a Piraha. The Piraha tribe of the Amazon also have no pronouns in their own language, and communicate by singing, whistling, and humming as much as they do by normal speech. They never sleep more than two hours at a time, and they frequently change their names because they believe spirits take over their bodies and change who they are.

While theories like Chomsky's univeral human grammar have dominated much of linquistic theory, the Piraha seem to be an example supporting alternate models like those of Wittgenstein and Benjamin Lee Whorf. Whorf theorized that learning a given language will strongly influence cognition, and that our native language will play a large part in determining the construction of our though processes. For example, though the Piraha express strong interest in learning mathematical concepts, even the most patient efforts at teaching them counting and arithmatic have failed.

Perusing the Piraha promts me to ponder the purport of palaver. If language factors into our awareness and comprehension (or lack thereof) of reality, then do individuals with more expansive vocabularies have a wider range of experience? When one grasps the lexical distinction between subtle connotations of complex terms then does that correspond to a dawning awareness of the distinctions between the two states or objects being described?

Please tell me that it does, 'cause then my SAT Verbal score is still worth bragging about.

(Special thanks to Jay for letting me know about the Piraha story.)