By Any Other Name

Contemplation

About two months ago while browsing X, one of the people I follow posted a video recorded in 1985. It struck me in a way things of that era often do, and I sought a word that would adequately describe the feeling.

At the time, I described it as “a mix of melancholy, nostalgia, wistfulness, and poignancy” and it embodies all of those things and more. I asked my local AI model if it could supply a suitable English word, but it appears there is no such concise sentiment in the English language.

Instead, it provided a Portuguese word: Saudade. The more I read about its origins, the more I realized the AI was right, and Saudade was indeed the word I needed. It’s one many of us likely need to embrace, especially during this time of year where the holidays swarm densely and evoke a yearning for togetherness and understanding.

It’s how I’ve looked upon the world for almost the full length of my memories. It’s why I’ll watch children play, knowing what they’re likely experiencing, what they’re seeing for the first time. How in a short while, that verve and novelty will become lost to time, and they’ll spend a lifetime trying to recapture that magic. Children bring that gift to everyone, their parents most of all, to see life through a new set of eyes in a way that is impossible otherwise, for Pandora’s Box can never be closed.

It’s why I consider those who gleefully eschew the responsibility of reproduction with disdain. Such happiness is nothing but a Pyrrhic Victory, and brings a life of hedonism without any meaning. Without children, we are a dead society, left with a world driven by career and accomplishment with nothing to show for it and nobody to remember us. We can feel that emptiness, that ultimate lack of purpose. It is no wonder we’ve drowned ourselves in antidepressants. Almost the entire world is below replacement rate, and we try to cope and escape from the truth, that we need each other.

I frequently question the purpose of my career. When I was younger, all I wanted was to reach the pinnacle of whatever I chose to do. Some would argue I accomplished that when I published my first technology book. While I’m hardly a household name, I’ve consulted with multiple global corporations and many consider me an authoritative expert in my small industry niche. Were I more ambitious, perhaps I would have even pursued venture capital and started a business or two along the way.

But I’ve never wanted that. The young often yearn to become rich and famous, perhaps blinded by the portrayal of that lifestyle in popular media. At some point in my youth I wanted to be a well-known author, but a career in tech was ultimately a better match. After being around for a while, I’ve come to understand that all I really want, all I’ve ever wanted, was to make a difference. I just want a quiet life where I’ve made a family and we’re happy.

I suspect I’m not alone in that regard. I’m certain there’s an evolutionary drive for that result, and without it and left to fend for themselves, it drives people toward any number of sociological ills. Despite how much we try to avoid admitting it, we are still animals and a product of our environment, and there is very little that can substitute for the prerequisites of fulfillment written into our very DNA.

And so I’m left with Saudade, watching a world with little time or desire for self-reflection, which would rather drive itself directly toward extinction than embrace what makes us human. Sometimes I joke that I should just buy some land and a house out in the wilderness, stock it with some chickens and maybe a goat or two, and forget about technology entirely. Who do I need to impress?

It’s not Nihilism, just a healthy dose of perspective. Family is important. Life is important. Nobody anywhere cares about distributed database high availability architectures—not even me. Driving into town at night after a long road trip and cresting a hill to the glorious sea of twinkling lights of the houses nestled in the valley, that matters. The magic of that moment from the perspective of naivete is lost to time, but its impact doesn’t have to be.

Somewhere along the way I let the mundanity of the world and my vocation rob me of my sense of wonder. A loss of innocence shouldn’t be synonymous with disdain. While there is nothing new under the sun, I am but one man, and should be able to seek wonder in all things new and old.

So please, in these colder months, consider sitting down with a loved one under some warm blankets with a cup of hot cider. Forget about the world for just a moment and try to embrace that lost sense of wonder. Starve the melancholy by making newer, better memories to those who matter to you. Make a difference to them, if nobody else.

The rest of the bustling world will still be there; engage with it on your terms. It should never dictate who you are. We honestly don’t have enough time for that. It’s easy to lose sight of, but it’s always possible to return.

Until Tomorrow