In the book Thinking Without Words (Oxford University Press, 2007), philosopher José Luis Bermúdez explores how thoughts can actually exist without any language. He argues that human infants and non-human animals are capable of genuine thinking even though they cannot use actual words. Bermúdez challenges the idea that language is necessary for thought, suggesting instead that different forms of mental representation allow creatures to understand, plan, and respond to the world effectively.
Through insights from psychology and animal behaviour studies, he shows us that non-linguistic beings can still have beliefs, goals, and reasoning processes. However, he also points out that this kind of thought has limits, like it cannot express abstract or self-reflective ideas in the same way that language-based thinking can. Still, it forms the foundation for higher reasoning and communication.
Bermúdez’s work bridges philosophy, psychology, and cognitive science. It offers a detailed framework for understanding how minds work before any language develops. His book invites us to see thought as something broader and older than words, like a universal ability shared across species.
Most of us believe that thinking only means talking to ourselves inside our heads. We use words to plan something, decide something, remember something, and to imagine something. But what if thought is not always made of words? What if there’s a way to think beyond a language? In a silent form of awareness where meaning exists without being spoken?
Thinking without words might sound impossible at first. After all, since childhood, we’ve learned to connect every idea with a word itself. When we say “tree,” we see an image of it in our head. When we feel sad, we name it as “sadness.” But before the word “tree” existed, trees still existed. Before you could say “sad,” you still felt it. So maybe the truth is the thoughts come first, and words come later.
Before you speak in your mind, there is a small moment that is quiet, soft, and almost invisible. Where something happens. You sense something, but you don’t yet describe it. That’s the raw space of thought. Animals live there. Babies live there. Artists, poets, and dreamers often return there. It’s where pure experience happens before being translated into symbols.
This space feels like a pause. For example, when you look at the sunset, you don’t always think, “Wow, that’s beautiful.” You just feel its beauty. It’s wordless, but real. That’s what thinking without words looks like; it's like understanding without explaining.
Emotions are one of the clearest ways we think without any language. A person can feel something deeply without being able to actually describe it. Sometimes you can’t say why you trust someone, or why a place feels sacred, or why a memory makes you quiet. Yet your body and mind understand it. That’s emotional intelligence. Which is the silent kind of knowing.
To think without words, we need to pay attention to our feelings as messages, and not just moods. For example, confusion isn’t just a problem; it’s your mind preparing to grow. Sadness isn’t weakness, but it’s your soul asking for stillness. These meanings arrive before any word does.
So close your eyes and imagine a calm ocean. You can see it, feel it, maybe even hear the waves. Did you use any words for that? Probably not. The mind can think in pictures, sounds, and sensations.
Artists often rely on this kind of thinking. A painter might not say, “I will paint sorrow.” Instead, they see colours that feel like sorrow to them.
This shows that language is not the only form of thought; it’s just one of many. The senses actually have their own vocabulary.
Meditation is one way to learn how to think without words. When you sit still and watch your thoughts, you notice how noisy the mind can be. It is constantly talking, planning and judging. Slowly, you begin to let the words fade. In that silence, something deeper appears. It is awareness.
You start to notice life directly, like the sound of breathing, the rhythm of your heartbeat, the feeling of air on your skin. That’s thinking through awareness, not analysis. You begin to realise that silence is not the absence of thought, but it’s the purest form of it.
Words are useful, but they can also trap us. When we name something, we often stop truly seeing it.
You see a tree and say, “tree,” and move on. But when you forget the word, you start noticing its shape, movement, and that quiet life.
Similarly, when we label emotions like “sad,” “happy,” or “angry”, we put them in boxes. But real feelings are more complex than any label can hold.
To think without words is to see things as they truly are, without any filters, without any definitions and without any judgment.
So, how do you start? Observe, don’t describe it. Look at something and resist the urge to name it. Just see it. Feel it fully. Instead of saying, “I’m sad,” just feel that sadness inside you. Notice its texture, its colour and its movement in your body. Breathe and listen. Focus on the rhythm of your breath, the hum of the world. Thoughts will slow down.
Create. Paint, move, or write freely. Let the expression happen before the words catch up.
In the end, thinking without words is not about rejecting the language, but it’s about remembering the silence underneath it. Words help us to communicate, but silence helps us to understand. Some truths can be said. Others can only be felt. And sometimes, the deepest thoughts are the ones that never learn to speak.
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