#contentedness

my love sleeps deeply above my head

the cat in the sun on the sill

gentle music

dim sunlight through drawn curtains

long drags

deep inhalation

warm mug in hand

the world is mine

:read more:

L’appel du vide: You’re waiting for the train when an inexplicable thought flashes into your mind: What if you jumped off the platform? Or perhaps you’re driving up some precarious mountain pass, when you feel strangely moved to jerk your steering wheel to the right and sail clear off the road. American psychologists in 2012 published a paper in which this feeling was dubbed the “high place phenomenon” (and their study suggested, by the way, that its presence does not necessarily signal suicidal ideation), but the French term for the phenomenon is much more alluring, as French words so often are: l’appel du vide, or “the call of the void.” As the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once observed, the emotion is so unsettling because of the way it “creates an unnerving, shaky sensation of not being able to trust one’s own instincts.” It’s a reminder, then, to perhaps not always let your emotions rule your behavior.

Ilinx: There exists a GIF of a fluffy white cat that speaks directly to my soul. In it, the cat is perched atop a desk, and as its human places various objects near its paws — a lighter, a glasses case, a wallet — it pushes each item off the desk and onto the floor. You might say the animal is expressing ilinx, a French word for “the ‘strange excitement’ of wanton destruction,” as Smith describes it, borrowing her phrasing from sociologist Roger Caillois. “Callois traced ilinx back to the practices of ancient mystics who by whirling and dancing hoped to induce rapturous trance states and glimpse alternative realities,” Smith writes. “Today, even succumbing to the urge to create a minor chaos by kicking over the office recycling bin should give you a mild hit.”

Kaukokaipuu: People of, say, Irish descent who have never actually been to the country of their ancestry may still experience an unexpected ache for it, as if they miss it — a strange, contradictory sort of feeling, as you can’t really miss someplace you’ve never been. But the Finnish recognize that the emotion exists, and they gave it a name: kaukokaipuu, a feeling of homesickness for a place you’ve never visited. It can also mean a kind of highly specified version of wanderlust, a “craving for a distant land” — dreaming from your desk about some far-off place like New Zealand, or the Hawaiian Islands, or Machu Picchu, with an intensity that feels almost like homesickness.

Dolce far niente: The pleasure of doing nothing.

Greng Jai: In Thailand, greng jai (pronounced: kreng jai) is the feeling of being reluctant to accept another’s offer of help because of the bother it would call them.

Iktsuarpok: When visitors are due to arrive, a fidgety feeling sprouts up. We might keep glancing out of the window, or pause mid-sentence, thinking we’ve heard the sound of a car. Among the Inuit, this antsy anticipation, causing them to scan the frozen Arctic tundra for approaching sledges, is called iktsuarpok (pronounced: eet-so-ahr-pohk).

Matutolypea: The alarm clock trills. The dawn slips in through the curtains. And we awake, overcome with misery and bad temper. Your grandmother might know it as “getting out of bed on the wrong side.” But it is, in fact, the much more important-sounding matutolypea (pronounced: mah-tu-toh-leh-pee-a). No one quite knows when the word was invented or by whom, but it comes from a combination of the name of the Roman goddess of the dawn, Mater Matuta, and the Greek word for dejection, lype, to give us the dignity of “morning sorrow.”

Umpty: Perkin Flump is in a very bad mood. (The Flumps was a 1970s children’s cartoon presenting the home life of a family of round furry creatures who lived in northern England.) The water is too cold. The floor is too bumpy. His porridge is too lumpy and too sticky. “I feel umpty” he tells his mother. “What’s umpty?” she asks. “It’s a too-much morning” he explains and stomps off to be on his own. Umpty: a feeling of everything being “too much” and all in the wrong way.

Mono no aware: Murasaki Shikibu, a poet and lady-in-waiting in 12th-century Japan, crafted what is often described today as the world’s first novel, The Tale of Genji. Set in the imperial court, it recounts the political intrigues and love affairs of an emperor’s illegitimate son. The book is infused with a quiet feeling for life’s transience, a sensitivity to the beauty of decay and the fading of all living and inanimate things. To read it is to become well acquainted with the feeling the Japanese call mono no aware (pronounced: moh-noh noh ah-wah-ray). Literally translated as the pathos (aware) of things (mono), it is often described as a kind of a sigh for the impermanence of life. "Monoaware" is "the pathos of things." It is the awareness of the impermanence of all things and the gentle sadness and wistfulness at their passing. "Bitter sweetness of fading beauty".

Itadakimasu - means “I will have this." It is used before eating any food to express appreciation and respect for life, nature, the person who prepared the food, the person who served the food, and everything else that is related to eating. "I humbly receive with gratitude".

Kogarashi - is the cold wind that lets us know of the arrival of winter.

Yuugen - is an awareness of the universe that triggers emotional responses that are too mysterious and deep for words.

Shoganai - The literal meaning of "Shoganai" is “it cannot be helped." However, it is not discouraging or despairing. It means to accept that something was out of your control. It encourages people to realize that it wasn't their fault and to move on with no regret. "It is what it is".

Hanafubuki - "flower petal storm" is usually used to describe how cherry blossom petals float down en-masse, like snowflakes in a blizzard. I certainly wouldn’t mind being caught in this storm.

Tsundoku - Booklovers are all too familiar with the truth behind the Japanese word tsundoku. In English, this untranslatable Japanese word describes the act of piling up books that you never get around to reading.

Natsukashii - While the Japanese word ‘natsukashii’ does have an English equivalent in the word ‘nostalgia,’ the use and meaning of the word are quite different. Natsukashii is used quite often in everyday language in Japan. When used, Japanese people are not saying “nostalgia”; they are expressing a feeling that warms the heart because it brings back memories.

Kouyou - Like Hanafubuki is used in Cherry Blossom season, Kouyou is used as Autumn arrives. Kouyou is a way to say, “The leaves are changing colour, so Autumn is near.”

Komorebi - In a single untranslatable Japanese word, ‘Komorebi’ illustrates a beautiful forest with sunlight peeking through the leaves of the trees. What English word could compare? "Light filtering through leaves".

Kawaakari - Just like many untranslatable Japanese words, kawaakari conjures an entire landscape in the mind’s eye. This word refers to light reflected off a river at night or dusk.

Kyouka suigetsu - is a Japanese phrase that can’t be easily translated into English. It refers to something that is visible but can’t be touched, like the moon’s reflection on the water. Or, an emotion that can’t be described in words.

Tsukimi - Japanese festivals often revolve around nature. Tsukimi is the act of viewing the moon, which is often enjoyed en-masse during moon-viewing festivals in September or October.

Mottainai - Having a hard time parting with clothes you never wear or throwing out expired condiments? ‘Mottainai’ is a colloquial term used when confronting the feeling of regret that comes with wastefulness. ‘Mottainai’ doesn’t only refer to items that you toss in the bin, but also perfectly good things that are left unused or sitting in storage. The term can also be used to describe a waste of talents or missed opportunities

Irusu - 'Irusu’, a word combining the Japanese terms for ‘here’ and' ignore’, is used to describe a situation where you’re home but don’t feel like answering the doorbell. If you have a sneaking suspicion that the person at your door is there to sell you another subscription plan you don’t need, you might feel tempted to just ‘irusu’.  

I’m sitting in a room, reading a book.  Something well-worn, something loved; I’ve read it before.  

The light streaming in through the windows is crisp, and bright– winter light.  I’m curled up under a blanket, basking in it.  

There are birds chirping just outside, back and forth to each other in a language I recognize but don’t speak.  Somewhere in the house, there is music playing quietly that catches my ear.  It’s familiar, but the memory of it is just out of reach.

The World

“THE WORLD IS increasingly designed to depress us. Happiness isn’t very good for the economy. If we were happy with what we had, why would we need more? How do you sell an anti-ageing moisturiser? You make someone worry about ageing. How do you get people to vote for a political party? You make them worry about immigration. How do you get them to buy insurance? By making them worry about everything. How do you get them to have plastic surgery? By highlighting their physical flaws. How do you get them to watch a TV show? By making them worry about missing out. How do you get them to buy a new smartphone? By making them feel like they are being left behind. 

To be calm becomes a kind of revolutionary act. To be happy with your own non-upgraded existence. To be comfortable with our messy, human selves, would not be good for business.”

- Matt Haig, Reasons to Stay Alive