Tales and travails of fifty five years on this planet of ours
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
“The Portuguese call it saudade: a longing for something so indefinite as to be indefinable. Love affairs, miseries of life, the way things were, people already dead, those who left and the ocean that tossed them on the shores of a different land - all things born of the soul that can only be felt.” ― Anthony De Sa
So someone in this world has a word for what I feel almost all of the time, a feeling that I have struggled to define... I hear Hejira a song that steals my soul away , the fragrance of honeysuckle on a warm summer breeze, I can lie abed too long of a morning and there it is :saudade. There is not a day that goes by in my life, nor has there ever been, that I did not feel it: saudade. It is more a part of my soul than I am, than anything else is. It is a wonder to me that there is a word for this hollow, wordless feeling. It is not just want, not just desire, not just need, not just sadness, not just desolation nor just hopelessness: saudade. A longing for what we know not and in the not knowing we are moved, usually to tears, sometimes to write.