Notice the Ineffable

The publishing schedule has changed for the next few weeks as I’m currently in Write of Passage. I’ll be experimenting with different topics I want to write about but it’ll all be fun. If you have been thinking about writing online, send me a message to chat, I’d love to hear from you.

What Eskimos Know

How many different words can you come up with for snow?

No matter how many you come up with (snow, ice, powder, etc.), it's probably not a lot compared to the Eskimos. The Central Siberian Yupik's have 40 terms for snow and ice. Sami languages (almost extinct Scandinavian languages) have anywhere between 180-300 different terms to describe snow, ice, and the conditions of the snow. The finest snow, what we call powder snow, is called “habllek”. The crusty snow (which is horrible to take a sled through) is known as “peat”.

Why do they have so many more terms to describe snow? Because they’re able to notice differences we can’t.

To notice is to know.

When we come across different cultures, and as a byproduct, different languages, we learn what they notice.

There are many words in languages that have no direct translation to English or any other language. But such words permeate our culture. Deja Vu is commonly used, even though it is a French term with no English equivalent.

Untranslatable Words

A quick Google search will reveal that there are untranslatable words from other languages that have no direct meaning in English. Some of my favorites include:

• Abbiocco is Italian for the drowsiness that occurs after eating a large quantity of food.

• Tartle is Scottish for that moment of hesitation when you introduce someone because you've just forgotten their name. (If you're ever caught in that situation, it's commonplace to say "Excuse my tartle").

• Nunchi is Korean for the subtle art of listening and gauging others' moods.

Language is how we communicate - yet what do we do when words fail us?

It becomes impossible to put into words the joy of a home-cooked meal after a long day or the overwhelming sensation of holding your newborn child. We use metaphors to communicate these feelings, describing the nervousness before public speaking as having “butterflies in my stomach.”

John Koenig has put together a full dictionary of these words in The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. In it, he captures many of the existential feelings that have no direct English word so we can share them with the world. Some of my favorites include:

• Aulasy - noun - The sadness that there’s no way to convey a powerful memory to people who weren’t there at the time

• Etterath - noun - the feeling of emptiness after a long and arduous process is finally complete - having finished school, recovered from surgery, or gone home at the end of your wedding - which leaves you relieved that it’s over, but missing the stress that organized your life into a mission

• Watashiato - noun - curiosity of the impact you’ve had on the lives of the people you know, wondering which of your harmless actions or long-forgotten words might have altered the plot of their stories in ways you’ll never get to see

Play a Little

Creating these new words helps to share our thoughts with others. I’ve had the frustration of not being able to communicate some of my everyday feelings to others, so I’ve created some of my own.

Phoy - noun - the joy that comes from sending a text to a friend in the same room and watching them smile as they read it

Patnows - noun - The feeling of finally achieving a hard goal and waiting for someone else to acknowledge it.

Wonderbrance - noun - The feeling of seeing an old photo and wondering how the people who are in the photo are doing

In creating new words, we create new ways to connect with others. The ineffable and indescribable parts of our lives can be shared. And why else do we live, if not to share our lives with others?

Thanks to Mohammad Khan, Samantha Law, Alex Exum, Alex Telford, Rick Lewis, and Abhilasha Krishnan for reading drafts of this piece