Beautiful new words to describe obscure emotions | John Koenig

Translator: Raimonds Jaks Reviewer: Kristaps Kadiķis

Today I want to talk about the meaning of words,

Šodien es vēlos runāt par vārdu jēgu,

how we define them

kā to nosakām mēs

and how they, almost as revenge,

un kā tie gandrīz vai atriebjoties

define us.

nosaka mūs.

The English language is a magnificent sponge.

Angļu valoda ir milzu sūklis.

I love the English language. I'm glad that I speak it.

Man ļoti patīk angļu valoda. Priecājos, ka tajā runāju.

But for all that, it has a lot of holes.

Bet ar visu to tajā ir daudz robu.

In Greek, there's a word, "lachesism"

Grieķu valodā ir vārds „lachesism”,

which is the hunger for disaster.

kas nozīmē alkas pēc nelaimes.

You know, when you see a thunderstorm on the horizon

Kad pie apvāršņa redzat negaisu

and you just find yourself rooting for the storm.

un saprotat, ka ilgojaties pēc vētras.

In Mandarin, they have a word "yù yī" --

Mandarīnu valodā ir tāds vārds „yù yī”.

I'm not pronouncing that correctly --

Es gan to neizrunāju pareizi,

which means the longing to feel intensely again

bet tas nozīmē ilgoties atkal kaut ko tik spēcīgi izjust

the way you did when you were a kid.

kā to izjutāt bērnībā.

In Polish, they have a word "jouska"

Poļu valodā ir vārds „jouska”,

which is the kind of hypothetical conversation

kas ir it kā hipotētiska saruna,

that you compulsively play out in your head.

ko piespiedu kārtā izspēlē prātā.

And finally, in German, of course in German,

Un visbeidzot vācu valodā, protams, vācu,

they have a word called "zielschmerz"

ir tāds vārds „Zielschmerz”,

which is the dread of getting what you want.

kas ir bailes tikt pie gribētā.

(Laughter)

(Smiekli)

Finally fulfilling a lifelong dream.

Beidzot sasniegts mūža sapnis.

I'm German myself, so I know exactly what that feels like.

Es pats esmu vācietis, tāpēc ļoti labi pazīstu šo sajūtu.

Now, I'm not sure if I would use any of these words

Es gan nezinu, vai ikdienā lietotu kādu no šiem vārdiem,

as I go about my day,

but I'm really glad they exist.

bet ļoti priecājos, ka tādi ir.

But the only reason they exist is because I made them up.

Vienīgais iemesls, kāpēc tie pastāv, ir tāpēc, ka es tos izdomāju.

I am the author of "The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows,"

Es esmu The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows autors,

which I've been writing for the last seven years.

kas esmu bijis jau pēdējos septiņus gadus.

And the whole mission of the project

Visa projekta misija

is to find holes in the language of emotion

ir atrast robus emociju valodā

and try to fill them

un mēģināt tos aizpildīt,

so that we have a way of talking about all those human peccadilloes

lai varētu runāt par visām tām cilvēku sajūtu niansēm

and quirks of the human condition

un cilvēku untumainajiem stāvokļiem,

that we all feel but may not think to talk about

ko visi jūtam, bet varbūt nedomājam izteikt,

because we don't have the words to do it.

jo mums tiem nav vārdu.

And about halfway through this project,

Un apmēram projekta pusceļā

I defined "sonder,"

es aprakstīju „sonder”,

the idea that we all think of ourselves as the main character

ideju, ka visi uzskatām sevi par galveno varoni

and everyone else is just extras.

un visi apkārtējie ir tikai otrajā plānā.

But in reality, we're all the main character,

Īstenībā mēs visi esam galvenie varoņi,

and you yourself are an extra in someone else's story.

un paši esam otrais plāns kāda cita stāstā.

And so as soon as I published that,

Līdzko es to publicēju,

I got a lot of response from people

es saņēmu daudz atbilžu,

saying, "Thank you for giving voice to something I had felt all my life

kas bija: „Paldies, ka piešķīrāt balsi tam, ko biju jutis visu savu dzīvi,

but there was no word for that."

bet tam nebija vārda.”

So it made them feel less alone.

Viņi jutās mazāk vientuļi.

That's the power of words,

Tāds ir vārdu spēks

to make us feel less alone.

– ļaut justies mazāk vientuļiem.

And it was not long after that

Un neilgi pēc tam

that I started to notice sonder

es sāku pamanīt,

being used earnestly in conversations online,

ka „sonder” visā nopietnībā lieto interneta sarunās,

and not long after I actually noticed it,

un neilgi pēc tā pamanīšanas

I caught it next to me in an actual conversation in person.

es izdzirdēju to sev blakus kādā runātā sarunā.

There is no stranger feeling than making up a word

Nav dīvainākas sajūtas par to, kad tevis izdomāts vārds

and then seeing it take on a mind of its own.

sāk dzīvot pats savu dzīvi.

I don't have a word for that yet, but I will.

Šai sajūtai man vēl nav nosaukuma, bet būs.

(Laughter)

(Smiekli)

I'm working on it.

Es pie tā strādāju.

I started to think about what makes words real,

Es sāku domāt par to, kas vārdus padara īstus,

because a lot of people ask me,

jo daudzi man jautā,

the most common thing I got from people is,

visbiežākais jautājums, ko man uzdod, ir:

"Well, are these words made up? I don't really understand."

„Vai šie vārdi ir izdomāti? Es īsti nesaprotu.”

And I didn't really know what to tell them

Es īsti nezināju, ko viņiem atbildēt,

because once sonder started to take off,

jo kad „sonder” sāka ieviesties,

who am I to say what words are real and what aren't.

kā gan man spriest par to, kuri vārdi ir īsti un kuri nē.

And so I sort of felt like Steve Jobs, who described his epiphany

Tad es sajutos kā Stīvs Džobss, viņam aprakstot savu epifāniju,

as when he realized that most of us, as we go through the day,

kad viņš saprata, ka vairums no mums ikdienā

we just try to avoid bouncing against the walls too much

baidās pārāk stipri atsisties pret sienām

and just sort of get on with things.

un it kā cenšas dzīvot tālāk.

But once you realize that people --

Bet, kad saproti, ka cilvēki,

that this world was built by people no smarter than you,

ka šo pasauli veidojuši cilvēki, kas nebija gudrāki par tevi,

then you can reach out and touch those walls

tad var pastiept roku un pieskarties šīm sienām,

and even put your hand through them

un pat izbāzt roku tām cauri

and realize that you have the power to change it.

un saprast, ka vari to izmainīt.

And when people ask me, "Are these words real?"

Kad man jautā: „Vai šie vārdi ir īsti?”

I had a variety of answers that I tried out.

man ir dažādas atbildes, ko esmu izmēģinājis.

Some of them made sense. Some of them didn't.

Dažas šķita jēdzīgas, citas nē.

But one of them I tried out was,

Bet viena no izmēģinātajām bija:

"Well, a word is real if you want it to be real."

„Vārds ir īsts, ja gribi, lai tas tāds būtu.”

The way that this path is real because people wanted it to be there.

Tāpat kā šī taka ir īsta, jo cilvēki to tur vēlējās.

(Laughter)

(Smiekli)

It happens on college campuses all the time.

Augstskolu pilsētiņās tas notiek ik dienas.

It's called a "desire path."

To sauc par „vēlmju taku”.

(Laughter)

(Smiekli)

But then I decided, what people are really asking

Bet tad es nolēmu, ka tas, ko man patiesībā jautā,

when they're asking if a word is real, they're really asking,

jautājot, vai vārds ir īsts, viņi patiesībā jautā:

"Well, how many brains will this give me access to?"

„Cik daudzus prātus es ar to sasniegšu?”

Because I think that's a lot of how we look at language.

Jo, manuprāt, pārsvarā tā mēs redzam valodu.

A word is essentially a key

Vārds principā ir atslēga,

that gets us into certain people's heads.

kas ļauj piekļūt noteiktu ļaužu prātiem.

And if it gets us into one brain,

Ja tas ļauj mums piekļūt tikai vienam prātam,

it's not really worth it,

tad to nav īsti vērts lietot,

not really worth knowing.

nav vērts ielāgot.

Two brains, eh, it depends on who it is.

Divi prāti... atkarīgs no tā, kas tie tādi ir.

A million brains, OK, now we're talking.

Miljons prātu – nu jau cita runa.

And so a real word is one that gets you access to as many brains as you can.

Īsts vārds sniedz pieeju pēc iespējas vairāk prātiem.

That's what makes it worth knowing.

Tāpēc to ir vērts zināt.

Incidentally, the realest word of all by this measure is this.

Sagadīšanās pēc, visīstākais vārds pēc šīs mērauklas ir šis.

[O.K.]

[O.K.]

That's it.

Viss.

The realest word we have.

Visīstākais vārds, kāds mums ir.

That is the closest thing we have to a master key.

Tas ir vistuvākais universālajai atslēgai.

That's the most commonly understood word in the world,

Tas ir visvairāk saprastais vārds pasaulē,

no matter where you are.

lai kur arī nenonāktu.

The problem with that is,

Nelaime gan tāda,

no one seems to know what those two letters stand for.

ka neviens īsti nezina, ko šie divi burti nozīmē.

(Laughter)

(Smiekli)

Which is kind of weird, right?

Tas ir diezgan dīvaini, vai ne?

I mean, it could be a misspelling of "all correct," I guess,

Tas varētu būt nepareizi saīsināts „all correct”, varbūt,

or "old kinderhook."

vai „old kinderhook”.

No one really seems to know, but the fact that it doesn't matter

Neviens īsti nezina. Bet tas, ka nav svarīga tā izcelsme,

says something about how we add meaning to words.

kaut ko saka par to, kā vārdiem piešķiram nozīmi.

The meaning is not in the words themselves.

Nozīme nav pašos vārdos.

We're the ones that pour ourselves into it.

Mēs esam tie, kas ieliekam sevi tajos.

And I think, when we're all searching for meaning in our lives,

Un, manuprāt, kad visi meklējam savas dzīves jēgu

and searching for the meaning of life,

un dzīves jēgu kā tādu,

I think words have something to do with that.

tam ir kāds sakars ar vārdiem.

And I think if you're looking for the meaning of something,

Manuprāt, ja meklējat kaut kā nozīmi,

the dictionary is a decent place to start.

vārdnīca ir labs sākums.

It brings a sense of order

Tā piešķir sakārtotības sajūtu

to a very chaotic universe.

ļoti haotiskajam visumam.

Our view of things is so limited

Mūsu skatījums ir tik ierobežots,

that we have to come up with patterns and shorthands

ka jāizgudro principi un īsceļi

and try to figure out a way to interpret it

un jāizdomā, kā to skaidrot

and be able to get on with our day.

un ar to sadzīvot ikdienā.

We need words to contain us, to define ourselves.

Mums vajadzīgi vārdi, kas apvalda un nosaka, kas esam.

I think a lot of us feel boxed in

Manuprāt, daudzi no mums jūtas ieslodzīti

by how we use these words.

tajā, kā lietojam šos vārdus.

We forget that words are made up.

Mēs aizmirstam, ka vārdi ir izdomāti.

It's not just my words. All words are made up,

Tādi nav tikai mani vārdi. Visi vārdi ir izdomāti,

but not all of them mean something.

bet ne visi no tiem kaut ko nozīmē.

We're all just sort of trapped in our own lexicons

Mēs visi esam it kā ierobežoti savā vārdu krājumā,

that don't necessarily correlate with people who aren't already like us,

kas ne vienmēr saskan ar cilvēkiem, kas vairs nav tādi kā mēs,

and so I think I feel us drifting apart a little more every year,

un tāpēc rodas sajūta, ka ar katru gadu viens no otra arvien vairāk attālināmies,

the more seriously we take words.

jo nopietnāk uztveram vārdus.

Because remember, words are not real.

Jo atcerieties, vārdi nav īsti.

They don't have meaning. We do.

Tiem nav nozīmes. Mums ir.

And I'd like to leave you with a reading

Kā pēdējo vēlētos nolasīt

from one of my favorite philosophers,

fragmentu ar vienu no maniem mīļākajiem filosofiem ‒

Bill Watterson, who created "Calvin and Hobbes."

Bila Vatersona, kas radījis grāmatu sēriju „Kelvins un Hobss.”

He said,

Viņš ir teicis:

"Creating a life that reflects your values and satisfies your soul

„Radīt dzīvi, kas atspoguļo jūsu vērtības un apmierina dvēseli,

is a rare achievement.

ir rets sasniegums.

To invent your own life's meaning

Izgudrot pašam savas dzīves jēgu

is not easy,

nav vienkārši,

but it is still allowed,

bet tomēr to drīkst darīt,

and I think you'll be happier for the trouble."

un, manuprāt, pēc tam būsiet laimīgāks, ka papūlējāties.”

Thank you.

Paldies.

(Applause)

(Aplausi)