There are many words and expressions missing in the English vocabulary that exist in other languages, my favourite perhaps being the Japanese mono no aware: “the pathos of things” or “sensitivity to ephemera”. I guess it gets somewhat lost in translation, however, as these things usually do. For me, mono no aware is that bittersweet feeling of summer’s end or finishing a really good book. There is also the Portuguese word saudade, a noun that we use to describe the feeling of missing someone, something or even ourselves. It’s a very Portuguese feeling, as we always feel like something has been lost and we deeply long for it.
Saudade (1899), by Almeida Júnior
A while ago I came across this beautiful one-man project called The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, a compendium of invented words to describe human emotions that had not yet been named. You can visit the website and take a look for yourself, I promise it is amazing.
The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
Thing is, I have been browsing through this brilliant dictionary looking to find some mention of one particular feeling that I wish I could describe better, but I didn’t find it. I won’t try to make up a word for it because I am not a linguist and I know I could never do justice to this emotion, but I will try my best to express it.
Every time I look back on my memories - undoubtedly embellished and romanticised by the passage of time - I can attribute a very specific feeling to each of them. It is just like associating one particular smell to a place or to someone, or branding a moment with a certain song. However, it goes deeper: It is the feeling behind that one song and that one place; something that shifts and renews with each snippet of memory.
Maybe a stranger walks past you and their perfume lingers in the air, you take a quick sniff of it and you’re immediately hit by a wonderful punch in the chest. Then, something brings you back to the present but the dull ache remains and suddenly you’re mixing two lives together: what is was and what it is.
or
You dust up some album from your collection and you fearfully play it, knowing it will evoke things that you have buried deep down and don’t feel strong enough to deal with, but regardless it comes: something latches onto your stomach, it’s not exactly pleasant but it is definitely the best thing you have ever felt. If you ever needed proof you are alive: this is it.
It’s the emotional fingerprint of each lived moment. It’s something much clearer than actual memories, and definitely feels more real.
Now can we please have a name for it? And don't say saudade...