John Koenig starts his 2021 book with a Steven Wright quote (the comedian not the knuckleball pitcher)
The book is divided into six sections, likely how I will study this book is to give an overview of each facet of the human experience underrepresented by our common vocabulary:
- The outer world
- The inner self
- The people you know
- The people you don’t
- The passage of time
- The search for meaning
Koenig notes that these words he’s coined aren’t “necessarily intended to be used in conversation, but to exist for their own sake.”
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Apparently Koenig’s term “sonder” is already gaining some traction. His Dictionary is a bound form of a long running website I somehow entirely didn’t know about. Today I dig into these words with earnest, drawing on my notes from yesterday, in that I’m partaking in the copy pasta method.
I do take issue with Apple Pages refusing to acknowledge that these may be new words. Red squiggles will be the bane of my existence in these obscure linguistic pursuits. It is the perfect example of a first world problem, but a nuisance nonetheless.
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“chrysalism”
The first word of the outer world Koenig offers is “chrysalism” as Koenig defines as a noun: “the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.
This new word is based on the Latin chrysalis, “the pupa of a butterfly.”
First I must define ‘amniotic’. I think of the state of being in the womb. Technically, it refers to the ‘amnion’: “the innermost membrane that encloses the embryo of a mammal, bird, or reptile,” according to the New Oxford Dictionary. So that’s the essential meaning, being within the womb, itself a concept worth exploring in further detail. Our language seems to be decaying more quickly than I thought…
I haven’t felt this sort of chrysalism since perhaps my teenage years while relaxing in the loft of a now entirely dismantled cabin in Maine. To even think of such a state now brings profound sadness. Now I look upon being indoors during a thunderstorm as more of a state of being not at all tranquil. So this is a state of being with which I no longer relate with properly, a small but significant part of the human experience with which I have cut myself off from.
When we disown others we also disown what was most dear to them, often not quite aware of the damage we inflict upon ourselves.
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“trumspringa”
A noun meaning: “the longing to wander off your career track in pursuit of a simple life…”
Koenig suggests these longings may involve:
- Tending a small dawn in a forest clearing
- Keeping a lighthouse on a secluded atoll
- Becoming a shepherd in the mountains
A bit too 19th century for my tastes…
Anyway, he considers these as “the kind of hypnotic diversion that allows your thoughts to make a break for it and wander back to their cubicles in the city.”
I have the opposite experience. My thoughts wandered so far from the cubicle that I couldn’t possibly stay.
Koenig actually based this word on the Amish tradition of Rumspringa, which with I am familiar. Literally it means “running around.” It’s what Koenig calls the “putative tradition” of Amish teens (around 16 or 17) dipping their toes in modernity for a while to decide if they want to remain in the traditional way of life or break away. I wonder how many choose to bust out; I’ve never sought statistics on this but my curiosity has been sparked and I love my rabbit hole adventures.
According to Wikipedia, since I’m too lazy to dig too much, it seems about 97 percent choose to stay. I honestly can’t blame them. As backward and reductive as the Anabaptist faith is, the modern world is pretty damn scary.
Also, Koenig was also inspired by the German word for “city center” which is Stadtzentrum. He has German roots so his knowledge of German does him credit here. This is indeed a common feeling among former and current go-fers like myself, but I actually broke free of that cycle and lived something more 21st century. Sort of like reverse rumspringa.
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“kairosclerosis”
Koenig’s definition: “the moment you look around and realize that you’re currently happy — consciously trying to savor the feeling — which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it into context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.”
Here we are combining two words from one of my all time favorite languages, Ancient Greek.
Kairos: a sublime or opportune moment
Sklerosis: hardening
I’ve been in this state more than I can possibly count. This word deserves a further exploration.
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“scabulous”
An adjective: “proud of a certain scar on your body, which is like an autograph signed to you by a world grateful for your continued willingness to play with her, even if it hurts.”
Wonderful word here, smashing together scab and fabulous. The definition is beautiful, but sad. My scars are mostly on the inside out of sight, and I’d rather not pick at them right now.
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“occhiolism”
This is a beautiful definition that could become its own entirely realm of philosophy:
“the awareness of how fundamentally limited your senses are — noticing how little of your field of vision is ever in focus, how few colors you’re able to see, how few sounds you’re able to hear, and how intrusively your brain fills in the blanks with its own cartoonish extrapolations — which makes you wish you could experience the whole of reality instead of only ever catching a tiny glimpse of it, to just once step back from the keyhole and finally open the door.”
Etymology: “Italian occhiolino (“little eye*), the original name that Galileo gave to the microscope in 1609. Pronounced “oh-kyoh-liz-uhm”
I could write a book on this subject. I have plenty of cartoonish extrapolations stuck inside my overactive imagination that are still in dire need of proper expression.
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“ozurie”
Torn between desired life and current life
Our example is Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. When she returns to Kansas, to ordinary life on the farm, she still carries memories of colorful Oz. After experiencing Oz, she sees hidden dimensions in everyday things and feels a growing dissatisfaction with this mundane world.
Dorothy struggles with longing for both worlds, desiring the excitement of Oz, but also the comfort of Kansas. She questions whether to chase her dreams or accept this simple life.
Life offers different perspectives; sometimes it feels like Kansas, sometimes like Oz. There are always these choices between choosing stability versus chasing your dreams.
Etymology: Oz plus the prairie, with you caught somewhere in between.
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“idlewild”
Feeling grateful for being stranded in a place with limited activity options, allowing the mind to wander freely.
Origin: original name of John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York City. (Yes, really.)
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“aubadoir”
The otherworldly atmosphere before 5 a.m., blending late-night melancholy and early morning brightness.
Origin: French words “abode” (ode to the morning) and “abattoir” (slaughterhouse).
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“Rückkehrunruhe”
Returning from a trip only to have it quickly fade from memory as if it were just a dream.
Origin: German words meaning “coming back” and “restlessness.”
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“mahpiohanzia”
frustration of not being able to fly or escape one’s own weight.
Origin: Lakota word “mapiohanzi,” meaning “shadow caused by a cloud.”
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“the Kick drop” (phrase)
waking up from an immersive dream and having to adjust back to reality, reversing life events experienced in the dream.
Origin: American football term “drop kick,” used for restarting play.
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“Maru Mori”
A tribute to Maru Mori, who inspired Pablo Neruda’s poem “Ode to My Socks.” Compare this with Memento Mori, a reminder of your own mortality.
Refers to ordinary time spent on simple things, the precious things in Life that often go unnoticed. Things like an old cat in a bookstore window, toothbrushes by the sink, and the feeling of pulling on wool socks in winter
Future generations will wonder about our daily lives: the meaning of doodles in textbook margins; clothes we wore, food we ate, and costs involved; our superstitions, memes, jokes, and pop songs may intrigue them.
They’ll imagine our experiences, standing on street corners observing architecture, and hearing old cars rumble by. We don’t commemorate ordinary moments or people with statues or plaques. But cheap and disposable experiences are still real and sacred.
Appreciate the small things as meditations of what is real: Tic-tacs rattling in a box, throbbing ache of hiccups, the smell lingering after doing dishes
Life isn’t always high stakes; sometimes it’s just life.
A quick thought on this term of Maru Mori: too many of today’s TV shows and movies always have to have “end of the world” stakes, which has become a very common criticism of today’s entertainment. The best stories are often when the stakes don’t exist at all, but instead delve into things that we often just take for granted or entirely ignored for the longest time.
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“vulture shock”
The nagging sense of never truly experiencing a foreign country; floating above the culture, dazzled by exotic quirks; carrying a heavy tank of assumptions everywhere
Inspired by:
Vulture: animal hovering over prey
Culture shock: adjusting to different cultures
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“looseleft”
An adjective meaning “feeling a sense of loss upon finishing a good book, sensing the weight of the back cover locking away the lives of characters you’ve gotten to know so well.”
Etymology: from loose leaf, a removable sheet of paper and left, departed.
I know this feeling. But I rarely get it. Charlotte’s web gave me that feeling like no other work of fiction. Maybe that’s strange, and it feels odd to admit that at thirty-nine years old. I’ve always preferred nonfiction, as I feel more of a connection with its author.
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“jouska”
“a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head — a crisp analysis, a devastating come-back, a cathartic heart-to-heart-which serves as a kind of psychological batting cage that feels far more satisfying than the small-ball strategies of everyday life.”
Inspired by the French jusquà, until. And by baseball small ball: “small ball is a cautious offensive strategy devoted to getting on base via walks, bunts, and steals, forgoing the big home run moments that fans tend to enjoy. Pronounced “Zhoos-ka.”
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“plata rasa”
“the lulling sound of a running dishwasher, whose steady maternal shushing somehow puts you completely at peace with not having circumnavigated anything solo.”
Latin plata, plate + rasa, blank or scraped clean. Pronounced “pla-tuh rah-suh.”
Having only recently gained the regular use of a dishwasher in 2020, I know this feeling all too well.
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“slipfast”
An adjective meaning: “longing to disappear completely; to melt into a crowd and become invisible, so you can take in the world without having to take part in it — free to wander through conversations without ever leaving footprints, free to dive deep into things without worrying about making a splash”.
from slip, to move or Ay away in secret + fast, fortified against attack.
This sounds like my whole life. Good to know it’s a common state of being.
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“elsewise”
adj. “struck by the poignant strangeness of other people’s homes, which smell and feel so different than your own-seeing the details of their private living space, noticing their little daily rituals, the way they’ve arranged their things, the framed photos of people you’ll never know.”
From else, other + wise, with reference to.
This is brilliant. It reminds me somewhat of George Carlin’s ‘Place For My Stuff’, but to a detailed extreme.
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“the Til”
“the reservoir of all possible opportunities still available to you at this point in your life — all the countries you still have the energy to explore, the careers you still have the courage to pursue, the skills you still have time to develop, the relationships you still have the heart to make — like a pail of water you carry around in your head, which starts off feeling like an overwhelming burden but steadily draws down as you get older, splashing gallons over the side every time you take a step.”
From the till, a shopkeeper’s register filled with unspent change + until.
I absolutely love this contemplative state. I’ve been there many times in my adult life thus far. It’s a state of mind I should investigate in prose further.
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“ameneurosis”
“the half-forlorn, half-escapist ache of a train whistle howling in the distance at night.”
From amen, “so be it” + neurosis, an anxious state + amanuensis, an assistant who helps transcribe newly composed music. A train whistle is the sound of air being forced across a gap, which serves as a poignant reminder of all the gaps in your life.
Pronounced “ah-men-nyoo-rob-sis.”
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“fitzcarraldo”
n. “a random image that becomes lodged deep in your brain-maybe washed there by a dream, or smuggled inside a book, or planted during a casual conversation-which then grows into a wild and impractical vision that keeps scrambling around in your head, itching for a chance to leap headlong into reality.”
From the title character of the 1982 film Fitzcarraldo, directed by Werner Herzog, about a man who is overcome by the thought of hearing Caruso’s operatic tenor echoing through the Peruvian jungle; to fund this effort he hires local people to pull a steamship over a mountain, a feat that was done for real for the film’s production. Pronounced “fits-kuh-rawl-doh.”
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“exulansis”
n. “the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it–whether through envy or pity or mere foreignness–which allows it to drift away from the rest of your story, until it feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.”
Latin exulans, éxile, wanderer, derived from the Latin name of the Wandering Albatross, diomedea exulans, who spend most of their life in flight, rarely landing, going hours without even flapping their wings. The albatross is a symbol of good luck, a curse, and a burden, and sometimes all three at once.
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“la cuna”
n. “a twinge of sadness that there’s no frontier left, that as the last explorer trudged his armies toward the last blank spot on the map, he didn’t suddenly turn for home, leaving one last island unexplored so we could set it aside as a strategic reserve of mystery.”
Latin lacuna, an unfilled space or hole + Spanish la cuna, cradle. Pronounced “ah koo-nuh.”
I know the word lacuna well. I have a poem with that title. But this is a very interesting synthesis of language here I must explore further.
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“Onism”
(I was using an app to take these notes by voice and translate them into bullet points. I really didn’t like how that worked out, but that’s why the format of some of these notes is strange. But I wanted to share these bits.)
Awareness of how little of the world you’ll experience. Heard in various sounds and seen in diverse visuals. Experienced through different senses
Fundamental paradox: Must be somewhere to be anywhere, Limited by one body, place, and perspective
Horizon always appears close: About three miles away or less than five kilometers. A completely different world is just an hour’s walk away
Ambivalence about surroundings: Unsure if current location is where you belong or if there’s something better nearby. No way of knowing without exploring all options
Creating a mental model of the unseen world: Extrapolating from known experiences. Filling gaps with secondhand accounts and snapshots
Struggling to imagine alternate universes represented by distant lights: Infinite places to explore; never enough time
Departure screen metaphor for life choices: Each exotic place represents a path not taken
Connection between people looking at each other’s distant lights: Shared sense of loss for unexplored areas
Realization that no perfect paradise or hell exists: Faraway lives are as complex as our own
Sketching monsters in blank spaces on maps provides comfort: Forces focus on the known world instead of unknown abyss
Honest answer about living on earth: “I don’t know. I passed through it once, but I’ve never really been there.”
Onism as a form of monism – limited single reality due to bodily restrictions
My thoughts: I try hard not to think in terms of the negative, of places that I haven’t been. Rather I focus on where I have been, how it has changed, or not, whenever I return. I try to track the progress of my own travels through space and time, as the places change, so do I. Even if the changes in place are substantial, the changes within myself are always more so.
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I’ve progressed to the second section titled The Interior Wilderness: Defining Who You Are from the Inside Out. This segment commences with a thought-provoking quote by D.H. Lawrence, extracted from his work Studies in Classic American Literature.
Lawrence expresses his belief that one’s soul is akin to a dark forest, and their known self merely represents a small clearing within it. He suggests that enigmatic deities emerge from this forest into the individual’s clearing before retreating once more. To maintain integrity and authenticity, he stresses the importance of allowing these gods to come and go without interference.
Further, Lawrence emphasizes never permitting others’ opinions or actions to dominate oneself while striving for recognition and submission towards both personal inner divinities and those present in fellow men and women. In summary, this quotation encapsulates Lawrence’s creed on understanding oneself through introspection and acknowledging our shared human experience.
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“heartspur”
“An unexpected surge of emotion in response to a seemingly innocuous trigger…”
Triggers may include “a key change in an old pop song” or “the hunt of a certain perfume”
This surge feels “all the more intense because you can’t quite pin [the trigger down]”
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“Kudoclasm”
“a cascading crisis of self-doubt”
A warning to Icarus: don’t fly too close to sun or sea
Confidence usually maintains a self-correcting balance. Some days, head in clouds; need grounding. Other days, barely slogging through; seeking uplift
Self-perception can be precarious and complex: Feeling better than everyone but not good enough for anyone
Spiraling into self-doubt leads to questioning: Personal mythology and stories we tell ourselves.
Value of compliments received, friendships maintained by circumstance. Love for partner/job and its expression/worth
Questioning interests, happiness, and personal choices: What makes you happy? Is it enough?
Struggling with the balance between self-indulgence and making a difference
Wondering if life has been built on airy delusions
Self-mythology as an evolving story:
- Changes with time; some aspects remain while others fall away
- Picking at literal truth misses the joy of it
- Embrace building your own myth while striving for truth
- Keep the middle course; borrow from others’ experiences
- Your task is not flawless perfection but rather to fly
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“Alazia”
“the fear of inability to change.”
When you were born, your potential was limitless; parents saw a future leader in your innocent face. As you grew older, they tried shaping you with their tools until it was time for self-molding. The question “What do you want to be?” marked the start of this journey towards self-discovery and growth.
Becoming who you are isn’t about following a standard kit: It’s more like glassblowing — carefully stretching and teasing out edges. Balancing one’s teenage emotions can feel like handling delicate glassware.
As we grow up:
– We learn how to maintain balance without falling apart or overstretching ourselves.
– Addressing flaws becomes necessary but so does accepting them.
– Flexibility comes naturally during youth, fostering resilience even in challenging times.
Realizing that our present selves will evolve into our future selves encourages us to strive towards becoming what we aspire to be despite failures or setbacks.
However, life’s hardships can cause changes. Pain might leave subtle cracks that only become noticeable years later. Over time we develop habits to protect vulnerable parts of ourselves which often leads to reluctance in moving away from these protective positions.
You may now wonder if change is still possible: Have your ways already set? Are cynicism and rigidity preventing growth? Perhaps questioning oneself excessively about future possibilities neglects the reality that ‘one day’ has arrived already.
Yet change remains possible: You may just be entering a profound phase where understanding of change itself evolves unrecognizably. Now could be an opportunity for re-evaluating assumptions about yourself and stripping away unnecessary aspects down to your core identity.
Conclusion:
Even if flexibility wanes with age making it harder for radical changes, strength gained over time helps one finally embrace their true self fully. Alazia originates from Greek words Ἀλλάζω (to change) and δυσπλασία (abnormal development).
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“Moment of Tangency”
Representing a brief glimpse into what could have been. It’s that feeling of we may have crossed paths unknowingly, online or in person. There might be countless missed opportunities for chance encounters due to minor reasons.
Parallel stories could exist across the world without us knowing about them because parallel lines never meet. Near-misses are common and it’s easy to imagine alternate scenarios where we might have met potential friends or business partners. The people you love are a result of many things happening right; however, fate could easily set you on another course with different people who feel like soulmates.
It feels miraculous when considering how many obstacles might prevent you from meeting the people you did but it could also just be coincidence.
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Aside: As I sat down to read a few more definitions from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, I realized what a strange book this really is. The definitions read more like prose poems than the definitions of new words to add to your vocabulary; as yet, none of the words I’ve read have entered my lexicon, and yet, the essence of these made-up words — as all words really are — remains with me as I read them aloud. I think more about the hidden depths and quirks of the human condition. This is why I take note of them, to return to in future days when my inspiration is waning and I require new vocabulary with which to sow new fertile ground for expression.
It’s a great irony that I’m too braindead to perform relatively simple tasks… and yet I can write these sweeping metaphorical jousts without so much as a second thought of why I’m writing them in the first place.
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The next section of the book is called Boats Against the Current, essentially meaning it’s full of words pertaining to “holding on in the rush of the moment.”
Really neat quote to open the section which I’ll copy pasta here:
“The illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, roll-ing, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean-tide, on which we and all the Universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not: this is forever very literally a miracle; a thing to strike us dumb -for we have no word to speak about it.”
– THOMAS CARLYLE, On Heroes
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“Zenosyne”
“the feeling that time is getting faster”
On the subject of time, I should mention that I feel the best solution to many education issues is to split summer vacation in half and have trimesters instead of semesters. You get done more quickly that way and kids retain more of what they’ve learned. A win-win-win.
Of course Koenig says some of the most profound stuff I’ve ever read:
“We should consider the idea that youth is not actually wasted on the young. That their heightened emotions make perfect sense, once you adjust for inflation. For someone going through adolescence, life feels epic and tragic simply because it is — every kink in their day could easily warp the arc of their story.”
Wow. I have to come back to this. This whole definition is just beyond anything I’ve read so far, in my life.
“Life is short — and life is long. But not in that order.”
Holy shit.
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I like how John Koenig describes a photograph: “A photo can feel more real than its subject. It lets you build a version of the world that you can take with you. A world flattened and simple. A world that doesn’t change-that fits in the frame. A little brighter and more colorful, with everything under control.”
I love this, “… living in a world stuck on Play.”
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“We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come…” – Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
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The first afterword (there are two) is about neologistics… It took him twelve years to write this book, and I recognize this bit from a TED talk John Koenig did.
I wanted to say a few things about how the best words are those that are keys to as many brains as possible. I agree, yes, but I think we’ve actually muddled the meanings of most common words. I agree with his example of OK. But I was thinking how people often say “I’m alright.” I guarantee you that I have never ever been all right and likely never will be. OK is acceptable because I have mostly come to terms with my own state of being and my state of self is really nobody else’s business but my own and my wife’s.
Also, yes, all words are made up. I have never deliberately created a word that wasn’t a proper name for something. But I probably should. After all, somebody somewhere made up a lot of them. And also the context matters too.
“As much as we all tend to take them very seriously,” Koenig writes, “words are just patterns in the air, a figurative shorthand…”
He mentions art in passing… Come to think of it, I’m fairly certain I never produced any art in art class, nothing but crude approximations off the assignment parameters and quickly thrown away. I prefer to paint word pictures anyway.
Koenig talks about hyper definition… and I agree that’s where we are, at least in the first world sense.
“Now is the time to go looking for gaps in the lexicon…” I really should.
The second afterword is On Gratitude… I love how his college writers group was called the Future Failures. What other name promises such absolute pessimism?
He ends with a word of advice: ollyoyoxenfree… yes, really.
Of all the books I’ve ever read, this is one for the desert island. I’m never letting go of this one, and I will refer back to it for sure.
There are many, many more great words in this book, but I’m not going to spoil any more of them. The book is worth picking up for yourself.
