Words for Today

I’ve just discovered The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig. ‘the fuck is that?

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows is a compendium of new words for emotions. Its mission is to shine a light on the fundamental strangeness of being a human being—all the aches, demons, vibes, joys, and urges that are humming in the background of everyday life. 
   ~~~
This is not a book about sadness—at least, not in the modern sense of the word. The word sadness originally meant “fullness,” from the same Latin root, satis, that also gave us sated and satisfaction. Not so long ago, to be sad meant you were filled to the brim with some intensity of experience.
   ~~~
All words in this dictionary are new. Some were rescued from the trash heap and redefined, others were invented from whole cloth, but most were stitched together from fragments of a hundred different languages, both living and dead. These words were not necessarily intended to be used in conversation, but to exist for their own sake. To give some semblance of order to the wilderness inside your head, so you can settle it yourself on your own terms, without feeling too lost—safe in the knowledge that we’re all lost. (source) 

The author talks about how light bulbs of understanding and fresh self-awareness can pop on in our brains, especially when learning words for emotions in languages other than English.

Here are some cool words that are not from the book:

Hygge (pronounced hooga, from what I’ve read)
     noun/adjective
:  Esp. with reference to Danish culture: a quality of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being; contentment from simple pleasures, such as warmth, food, friends, etc.  

This Danish word can be traced back to the Middle Ages and Old Norse, when it meant "to instill courage, give comfort, joy,” or to be "protected from the outside world.” Something along those lines anyway.

* Sundays, when we Valhallans gather to watch Star Trek and consume snackies, are a true moment of hygge.

Almeida Júnior – Saudade

Saudade (pronounced sow-DAH-də)
     noun
:  a melancholy nostalgia for something or someone – a feeling of incompleteness. This word is Portuguese and Galician.

Saudade ultimately derives from the Latin solitās, solitātis, meaning “solitude.” (source) 

* With the heat wave and all the ridiculously foul news, I’m experiencing a deep sense of saudade for winter and the thermal waters of Iceland.

Duende (pronounced doo-EN-deh) 
     noun
According to Merriam-Webster it means the power to attract through personal magnetism and charm BUT that definition comes off as ridiculously vanilla

Jules Evans, writing at the History of Emotions blog says:

Duende, as far as I understand it, means those moments in artistic activity when something else takes over, when something speaks through you. It’s similar to the Muse or the angel, but these things come from some lofty height, while duende rises up from the chthonic depths, from the body and the groin, from the darkness, from death itself. The word comes from duen de casa, ‘Lord of the house’, meaning a sort of daemon or local spirit

* Fer instance, George Harrison was a good, journeyman guitar player. Jimi Hendix? The man had serious duende. He was duende incarnate. 

Ubuntu (pronounced oo·boon·too)
     noun
:  a quality that includes the essential human virtues; compassion and humanity. Sometimes translated as "I am because we are" (also "I am because you are”)

* We need more understanding and care in America,we need ubuntu not cold, greedy, I’ve-got-mine-screw-you.

Schadenfreude
     noun
:  pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune.

* When he dies 90% of the world will experience orgasmic levels of Schadenfreude.

AND from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows:

Sonder
     noun
:  the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own — populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness — an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk. 

That's just exquisite. I believe I’m going to need to actually purchase a copy of Mr. Koenig’s dictionary. Amongst other things, it looks like a sure cure, an escape from the doomscrolling blues.

I read the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything.
~ Steven Wright