When Friends Start Having Babies…
What happens to the rest of us?
I’m sure you’ve heard that thing about Eskimos. No, not the rubbing noses thing. The thing about having a billion (or 50) words for “snow”. Our initial reaction to such word gluttony might be surprise and confusion.
Why on earth would anyone need more than one word for the white stuff falling from the sky?
And then you get to reading and it starts to make sense. Qilokoq for softly falling snow and piegnartoq for snow that’s good for driving a sled. Matsaaruti, for wet snow and pukak, for the powder snow. The list goes on.
All this snow talk has probably left you cold and wondering if I’m really writing an entire essay about piegnartoq. Fortunately or unfortunately (depending how much you like winter) I’m not. Rather, I’m writing about the need for more words to describe something that I can’t.
You know that feeling when you’re looking for something and you know it’s nearby and you’re stiff with anxiety because you can’t find it. That’s how I’ve been feeling lately but with my language. I just need a few more words — words that don’t exist — to explain how I feel.
As it stands, feelings are already a messy lot. The ups the downs, the illogical’s and inexplicable’s. So, to not be able to put words to a feeling…
