The Power of a New Word: Hearing the Silence in Which Now Is Born

I just learned a new word. It’s new not only to me but to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary and possibly many of us. According to the online Word Daily site, it was created by a German writer named John Koenig, as part of their book called “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows,” released in 2021. Before it was a book, it was an online website and YouTube channel. Did you know of this? The book includes a collection of words Koenig coined to express a variety of emotions, not just sorrows, but for which he thought no word existed.

 

The word is ‘sonder.’ It means “the realization and understanding that all other people have lives as complex as one’s own.” Wow; as complex, and let’s add as valuable, as painful, as full of worries and wonder. A realization that just as we ourselves have an inner world filled with contradictions, so does everyone else. We all feel and love and dream.

 

When we’re in a traffic jam, we feel sonder when we see these other people in the cars next to us and feel, wow, they’re as complex as I am. They’re rushing to work or the hospital or a lover, feeling anxiety or fear or anticipation, or all three. The word might’ve been inspired by the French ‘sonder’ meaning “to measure the depth of.” We measure the depth of those we see and hear; we measure our own depth by recognizing that of others. What great power we can unfold with such a word!

 

According to Wikipedia, Sonder is also the name of a music album by an American pop-band, and the name of an American neo-soul group. Koenig says that “most of what we feel goes unspoken for lack of a word” to realize, express, or ripen it.

 

As I get older, I feel a newly realized appreciation for words. And I guess I feel sonder towards so many of my fellow agers who, like me, are finding it more difficult to remember words we once spoke readily. Maybe this sounds like a stereotype, but it’s reality for so many of us. Words that once danced easily out of our mouths now hide and we can feel bereft over the loss. We’re left with frustration— and then silence. Yet, it’s how we respond to the silence that most effects who we are and will be.

 

Sometimes, a conversation with my wife becomes an opportunity for pantomime and guessing games. I stand up and mime partially sitting with my arms held out in front of me grasping air and ask her, “What is that word? I know it begins with a ‘b’ and it names something with 2 wheels we can ride.”

 

Each of us has our own memories, connotations that reach beyond common meanings. Likewise, every language is its own world, or embodies a different perspective on the universe, so each has words that others miss.

 

For example, according to philosopher Alan Watts in his book The Way of Zen, there are 4 words espousing a perspective unique to the Japanese language and expressing moods characteristic of Japanese poetry. Some of the words have close English approximations but with unique twists. The moods are, in Japanese, sabi, wabi, aware (a-wa-re), and yugen. Sabi is when we get quiet and feel detached from our usual concerns; we feel a quiet isolation. Poet Lucien Stryck said sabi is the recognition of beauty in asymmetry, imperfection, and the yearning to go beyond a superficial understanding.

 

Wabi is often linked with sabi. It’s a sense of simplicity, purity, and sincerity. Watts said it’s the poignant appreciation of what others call common. We catch a glimpse of the ordinary in its “incredible suchness.” The mood can arise when we feel sad or depressed and we notice the uselessness of many of our concerns. Stryck said wabi is the feeling of something previously ignored now seen as precious….

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

The Language of Moods: Tuning Our Ears to Hear the Heart of the World in Our Heart

When I was 19 and deeply involved in trying to figure out who I was, I heard a lecture by the philosopher of eastern religions, Alan Watts and read several of his books. He helped change how I felt about life.

 

When I thought ahead to the future, it seemed so big. A vast number of days, and a huge weight to carry. So many questions: how do I decide on a career? What should I do with all this time I have? How can I do some good? Thanks to Watts and others, especially to a few inspiring teachers, instead of a life of tasks and burdens mixed with occasional pleasures, I began to see depth and beauty; began to realize how my own response, attitude, and openness shaped the reality I experienced.

 

Three books by Watts stand out for me. The first: The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. The second: The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for An Age of Anxiety. The subtitle of the latter book, published in 1951, is certainly an appropriate label for today.

 

In another book, The Way of Zen, Watts not only explains his view of Zen history and practice but introduces the reader to four different moods often found in and characteristic of Zen and Japanese arts. It was a new thought for me that a philosophy could be expressed in a few distinct moods. These moods are, in Japanese, sabi, wabi, aware (a-wa-re), and yugen.

 

Understanding these moods can reveal unexpected ways to live life more directly and skillfully. The Way of Zen describes how the arts can be a way of practice and gives examples of poetry brewed in the four moods. Especially in these troubling times, when I read these poems, my mind and heart settles and comes alive. I discern better how to respond with strength even to the toughest situations and feel appreciation and gratitude for so much I have been given. These moods also reveal different ways and stages of meditation practice.

 

When we look at the breadth of the future, we can get lost. To make a decision, it helps to feel the truth of what is in and around us. There isn’t an infinity of moments ahead of us, only one.

 

As much as I understand it, Sabi, according to Watts, is when we get quiet and feel detached from our usual concerns⎼ worries, social media, plans, and expectations. Silence is not the absence of sound or thought, but being present, not judgmental or grasping, to sound and thought. We focus, for example, on one breath at a time, one place, one thing. We can see anything or “all things as happening ‘by themselves’ in marvelous spontaneity.” The poet, translator, Lucien Stryck called sabi, “…the feeling of isolation at the midpoint of an emotion when it is both welcome and unwelcome, the source of ease and unease…” It is the recognition of beauty in asymmetry, imperfection, and the yearning to go beyond a superficial understanding.

 

Wabi, I think, is similar to sabi. It is a sense of simplicity and purity. Watts said the mood can arise when we feel sad or depressed and we notice the uselessness of much of our concerns. We catch a glimpse of the ordinary in its “incredible suchness.” The sincerity. Stryck said it is the feeling of something previously ignored now seen as precious. This very moment is all we have. The ordinary is no longer ordinary. The philosopher and environmentalist Henry David Thoreau spoke of being “self-sufficient with an insufficiency of things.”

 

It’s the simple that will save us. It has been said that we can’t take our money or possessions with us into death. We can’t take anything, except what’s in us at that moment. How can we accept this moment is gone before we even recognize it’s here? …

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.