The English language is rich with verbs, adjectives, and nouns. We use words to get our messages across. Despite this, there are feelings out there which we cannot seem to describe. The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows is a collection of words invented by John Koenig. His method of relating language to our emotions is no doubt a gift. His words enable us to share experiences that we didn’t know others felt. To discover unexpected, but familiar, parts of what it means to be human. Here are five examples.
Lutalica (n.) the part of your identity that doesn’t fit into categories.
This word translates to “wanderer” in Serbo-Croatian. Society loves to label us, to the extent that we sometimes feel like wanderers of our own identities. We try to connect each aspect of our beings to a word. It’s understandable, labels help us know where we belong. What about those introverts who communicate amazingly well in teams? Or perfectionists of everything except their rooms? Humans are too complex to be categorized within a crowd.
Onism (n.) the awareness of how little of the world you’ll experience.
Earth has many places to offer. We know this because they fly by on our Instagram feeds, or, appear on travel magazines. But we realize that only a fraction of them will be ours to enjoy. There are things which hold us back from exploring this planet. We only possess one body that stays in one place at a time. Time acts as a deadline for us to complete our bucket lists. Then that time is spent making money in order to go on that one trip. However, we must return home to start the cycle again.
Klexos (n.) the art of dwelling on the past.
Dwelling on the past can become an art. Holidays can be revisited to remind us of “the good old days”. Although it isn’t the same as being there, it could turn a somber day upside down. Or, dwelling could be used to make sense of the past. Connecting the dots from point A to our current situation could be therapeutic. The past can’t be altered, but it’s fulfilling to understand how things turned out the way they did. Or, maybe dwelling could alter the past. Navigating a situation and its what-ifs make changing the past feel possible. If we spoke up, signed up for that club, or learned to look up, would things be different? How different though? Dwelling on the past might as well be a wild game of Mad Libs.
Opia (n.) the ambiguous intensity of eye contact.
Looking into someone’s eyes can feel invasive and beautiful at the same time. Invasive because it feels as if we’re witnessing someone’s mind without permission. As for the latter, eye contact could be a precious thing. We live in a fast-paced society where we don’t interact with strangers. But that split second of locking eyes makes the phrase “eyes are the window to the soul” ring true.
Sonder (n.) the realization that each passerby lives a life as vivid as yours
There are over seven billion people on this planet, yet life seems to revolve around us. If we think in terms of a movie, we are the main characters. Our friends and family play the role of the supporting cast. Strangers are the extras, but that doesn’t mean they should be overlooked. I feel most of us have experienced this before. We see someone through a window and wonder what’s going on. Is work going well? What about their relationship with loved ones? The tables turn when we realize that we are also extras. Maybe as a passenger on a plane, or a car travelling along the freeway.
Lutalica (n.) the part of your identity that doesn’t fit into categories.
This word translates to “wanderer” in Serbo-Croatian. Society loves to label us, to the extent that we sometimes feel like wanderers of our own identities. We try to connect each aspect of our beings to a word. It’s understandable, labels help us know where we belong. What about those introverts who communicate amazingly well in teams? Or perfectionists of everything except their rooms? Humans are too complex to be categorized within a crowd.
Onism (n.) the awareness of how little of the world you’ll experience.
Earth has many places to offer. We know this because they fly by on our Instagram feeds, or, appear on travel magazines. But we realize that only a fraction of them will be ours to enjoy. There are things which hold us back from exploring this planet. We only possess one body that stays in one place at a time. Time acts as a deadline for us to complete our bucket lists. Then that time is spent making money in order to go on that one trip. However, we must return home to start the cycle again.
Klexos (n.) the art of dwelling on the past.
Dwelling on the past can become an art. Holidays can be revisited to remind us of “the good old days”. Although it isn’t the same as being there, it could turn a somber day upside down. Or, dwelling could be used to make sense of the past. Connecting the dots from point A to our current situation could be therapeutic. The past can’t be altered, but it’s fulfilling to understand how things turned out the way they did. Or, maybe dwelling could alter the past. Navigating a situation and its what-ifs make changing the past feel possible. If we spoke up, signed up for that club, or learned to look up, would things be different? How different though? Dwelling on the past might as well be a wild game of Mad Libs.
Opia (n.) the ambiguous intensity of eye contact.
Looking into someone’s eyes can feel invasive and beautiful at the same time. Invasive because it feels as if we’re witnessing someone’s mind without permission. As for the latter, eye contact could be a precious thing. We live in a fast-paced society where we don’t interact with strangers. But that split second of locking eyes makes the phrase “eyes are the window to the soul” ring true.
Sonder (n.) the realization that each passerby lives a life as vivid as yours
There are over seven billion people on this planet, yet life seems to revolve around us. If we think in terms of a movie, we are the main characters. Our friends and family play the role of the supporting cast. Strangers are the extras, but that doesn’t mean they should be overlooked. I feel most of us have experienced this before. We see someone through a window and wonder what’s going on. Is work going well? What about their relationship with loved ones? The tables turn when we realize that we are also extras. Maybe as a passenger on a plane, or a car travelling along the freeway.