Names are abstractions

I like to work out. This has not always been the case, but it is the case now and has been for the past several years. In particular, I like exercise programs that emphasize use of bodyweight and jumping. I call these moves. I like programs that have cool and inventive moves to do that are almost fun like dancing. Really, I should just dance more.

A little while ago, I had a revelation while I was writing down the sequences of movements for the workout program that I am currently doing. There was a specific exercise that consisted of beginning with a wide stance, moving down to touch the ground, and then jumping up, and repeating. It had a name: the Frog Jump.

All of the sudden, I had a brilliant flash of insight: names are abstractions. They are terms we give to a specific set of characteristics that hide their underlying complexity. If every workout move were described down to its most detail-iest detail, the abundance of details would, in fact, hide what was actually supposed to be happening.

So we come up with names. A table is not “flat surface with four legs intended for things to be set on,” it is table. A door is not “flat piece of material fastened to a wall with the use of molded metal with a lever or device of some sort attached which is easy to grab,” it is door.

Thus we are able to increase the amount of information we share with each other. A picture may be worth 1000 words (is it another abstraction?), but a name is worth 1000 utterances.