John Koenig’s Dictionary Of Obscure Sorrows
Filling in the gaps of our emotional language
One of the main appeals of reading for me is seeing others express feelings which for years have eluded me in writing. For example, I remember encountering a passage in Douglas Adam’s book So Long, and Thanks for All The Fish, in which he perfectly describes meta-cognition (Feelings about feelings):
“For a moment he felt good about this. A moment or two later he felt bad about feeling good about it. Then he felt good about feeling bad about feeling good about it and satisfied, drove on into the night.”
Almost everything I highlight in my reading is an emotion I deemed ineffable that someone has found a way to illuminate; In short, I read to know I am not alone and to fill in the gaps in my language of emotions.
To my delight, I recently stumbled across a website dedicated to identifying, articulating and naming those strange and often obscure feelings that are so difficult to capture in language. Suffice to say, it is a veritable treasure trove and a wonderful document of the human experience. What’s more, it will validate those strange sensations that we all feel but so rarely discuss. According to its creator, John Koenig:
“The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows is a compendium of all the aches, demons, vibes, joys and urges that roam the wilderness of the psychological interior. The author’s mission is to harpoon, bag and tag wild sorrows then release them gently back into the subconscious.”
Here is a example of what you will find:
“v. intr. feeling the tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering but not quite in it — hovering on the perimeter of a campfire, chatting outside a party while others dance inside, resting your head in the backseat of a car listening to your friends chatting up front — feeling blissfully invisible yet still fully included, safe in the knowledge that everyone is together and everyone is okay, with all the thrill of being there without the burden of having to be.”
This website has led me to try and “harpoon” some of my own nebulous sensations and sorrows.
For instance, I often have feelings for a person in response to their things; small, personal items make me feel deep empathy for a person as they express vulnerability. To this day, when I see my mum’s flowery lunch box packed for work it makes me feel protective and sympathetic to her struggles; for some strange reason I cannot articulate it makes me want to just hug her and say “I love you”. I suppose I would call it a “Fing”- a feeling in response to things.
Furthermore, I often get moments where my own consciousness startles me; life suddenly seems unintelligible and I have to reacquaint myself with reality, reminding myself who I am, where I am and what I am. In those moments the familiar becomes deeply unfamiliar, constricting my head and making me feel sea-sick in response to existence. It is a feeling of being adrift mentally- as such, mental drift can be a placeholder name for this obscure sensation.
It is cathartic to finally give form to feelings long-dormant, to expand our emotional vocabulary and to validate indistinct feelings. I’d love to hear some of your own obscure sorrows and what you would call these sensations! The more people that contribute to this taxonomy of emotions, the better.
