The name given to confusion is only the mind's own account of the moment it chose to see itself divided. Babel is not a place but a state, the memory of a single understanding broken into many, and of a wholeness scattered into what feels like exile. To name it is to make the choice seem permanent, a monument to the belief that the mind can no longer know itself.
But nothing here is fixed. The confounding of speech and the scattering across the earth describe a dream, not a fact, and a dream can be laid down. When the mind remembers that its many voices were always one, the confusion loses its name, and what seemed a lasting division is seen for what it was, a choice that can now be made again for union.
Babel: the named state of a mind that believes itself divided, confusion made into a monument.
Language: the single meaning of a whole mind, broken here so its own thoughts fall out of understanding.
Earth: the world of apparent distance, the expanse over which the fragmented mind sees itself scattered from its home.