I loved this. Interesting and well written, plus always love learning new words.
I feel kenopsia in many places. Yes, also in those abandoned shopping malls, someone mentioned here in the comments, places I don't enjoy when they're busy either.
I most feel that deep emptiness and sense of loss when my kids go their dad's house. I experience this every fortnight. A sort of dead silence descends on the otherwise lively house. I love silence but this is different. Its a silence that tells many stories and they are not particularly happy ones and are infused with guilt, sadness and "what if's."
I will often just sit on their beds and soak in that echoing kenopsia. Sometimes it's the only way to move through it. Then I get on with life, one step forward, holding my children in my heart where ever I go. Thanks for sharing. Jo
Excellent piece! What makes me feel kenopsia is not an actual place, but the memory of that place. My childhood home was demolished almost a decade ago and my mind tours the halls and rooms of the house as I remembered it before the demolition. I am sure I can recreate every part of it down to the maroon paint that covered the basement floor and the five lawnmowers in the corner. Is still feel there was more to discover there and I keep going back to see what’s there.
I stumbled across this post, about to hit delete... then started to read... I am captured by these concepts, kenopsia and sonder. Thank you for waking me up here at my desk in Boston, MA. I flashed back to 2016 and a trip back to rural Iowa, the small towns of Primghar and Ida Grove where I lived decades ago. The empty storefronts, the neighborhoods I knew, decimated... definitely architectures of absence. Fortunately the fields of corn and soybeans were robust, probably the result of commercial farming, no longer family owned farms, but they were a relief to my eyes. Thanks for your work - I look forward to more
This was great. I always wondered how the world would look like when the nature would take over again. How long would the fires rage? How fast would a city turn into a jungle?
I am a big fan of sonder, I even wrote about it myself ages ago, when I still ran the other newsletter.
Not sure about parts of the text today, but still interesting reading your past self:
A beautiful article. My mum passed away when I was younger and my dad then moved out to a small apartment. I remember walking through each room, vivid smells and memories came to mind of my childhood and my mum’s passing at home. So much joy, so much sorrow. It was home for so long to me, but now seemed like a time so long ago. I never knew a word for this existed. Thank you
Kenopsia is a new word to me, and I thank you. Abandoned shopping malls elicit such a response. There was partly defunct place in Long Beach, CA. that was so creepy we always thought it would be a great place to film a horror movie, even though there were still some viable businesses open.
What a great word! Kenopsia. I feel it often when I see pictures of wilderness in the mountains where I used to live, and camp and hike, and become acutely aware of my own absence from those spaces because I am no longer physically able to access them. I recognize that this is a particularly self-centered and subjective perception, because those spaces do just fine without me (or any other humans) there; there is nothing desolate about them, yet I feel I am projecting my own internal sense of desolation that is invoked in me when I recognize what feels like that void inside myself.
In Vaporwave, there's a whole music genre dedicated to Anemoia (while it can be either nostalgia about a time you've never lived through, or a longing for a place you've never visited, usually Asian megacities).
I've just realized, while reading this, that I've definitely felt weird moments of Lachesism in my life.
And don't get me started about sonder – I've been struggling to describe that feeling for ages, and I've often used a music video reference to explain it (Massive Attack's "Protection", to be exact). Not sure if that word will be helpful moving forward but it's just beautiful to realize that it's quite a common feeling.
About kenopsia: I feel it I watch this channel about abandoned shopping malls on Youtube.
"The final part of Koenig’s definition for kenopsia refers to a conspicuous absence that glows like neon signs. I consider the incandescence of the inanimate cellar. Even the dust has a lustre. I feel like a moth. This is one space I’d prefer to see repopulated with life." You write so beautifully, Christian! Thanks for introducing several new words to my vocabulary today.
Wow, this hit hard. I have old stories and chat logs and all kinds of things saved from my teen years of the early Internet and I succumb all too often to rereading them. It's nostalgia, for sure, but I think the feeling of the friendships that are no more and the people we all used to be is what affects me the most during these walks down memory lane. Perhaps this is kenopsia?
The Curious Platypus brought me here. This is an excellent post. I love learning new words and this is a great one. In a revisit to Star Trek Voyager the other day I watched the episode where they travel through a part of space where there are no stars (1st ep Season 5) One of the crew has a panic attack and the Doctor diagnoses Nihilophobia which is Fear of Nothingness - Great I thought, that describes my nightly panic when I close my eyes.... very disappointed to discover it is a Trekkie made up word. Kind of want to make it mainstream for those of us who suffer from existential angst ha ha.
Kenopsia -- Thank you for giving me a word for a scene that from my childhood has always seemed the essence of melancholy: An English seaside resort, post-season, the wind cold, the sea rough and uninviting, the concession stands shuttered, the chairs and tables stacked and upside-down, no one there.... This is only poignant in the autumn: Winter is Coming (sorry, George R.R.); in Spring there's anticipation of summer.
I loved this. Interesting and well written, plus always love learning new words.
I feel kenopsia in many places. Yes, also in those abandoned shopping malls, someone mentioned here in the comments, places I don't enjoy when they're busy either.
I most feel that deep emptiness and sense of loss when my kids go their dad's house. I experience this every fortnight. A sort of dead silence descends on the otherwise lively house. I love silence but this is different. Its a silence that tells many stories and they are not particularly happy ones and are infused with guilt, sadness and "what if's."
I will often just sit on their beds and soak in that echoing kenopsia. Sometimes it's the only way to move through it. Then I get on with life, one step forward, holding my children in my heart where ever I go. Thanks for sharing. Jo
The bedroom at my Grandma's house which used to be my Mum's bedroom, turned spare room.
Me and my cousins used to stay in there as kids, and there's been a few random adult grandchild sleepovers.
No one has slept in there in years.
Excellent piece! What makes me feel kenopsia is not an actual place, but the memory of that place. My childhood home was demolished almost a decade ago and my mind tours the halls and rooms of the house as I remembered it before the demolition. I am sure I can recreate every part of it down to the maroon paint that covered the basement floor and the five lawnmowers in the corner. Is still feel there was more to discover there and I keep going back to see what’s there.
I stumbled across this post, about to hit delete... then started to read... I am captured by these concepts, kenopsia and sonder. Thank you for waking me up here at my desk in Boston, MA. I flashed back to 2016 and a trip back to rural Iowa, the small towns of Primghar and Ida Grove where I lived decades ago. The empty storefronts, the neighborhoods I knew, decimated... definitely architectures of absence. Fortunately the fields of corn and soybeans were robust, probably the result of commercial farming, no longer family owned farms, but they were a relief to my eyes. Thanks for your work - I look forward to more
This was great. I always wondered how the world would look like when the nature would take over again. How long would the fires rage? How fast would a city turn into a jungle?
I am a big fan of sonder, I even wrote about it myself ages ago, when I still ran the other newsletter.
Not sure about parts of the text today, but still interesting reading your past self:
https://eightyfour.substack.com/p/sonder-being-forgotten
A beautiful article. My mum passed away when I was younger and my dad then moved out to a small apartment. I remember walking through each room, vivid smells and memories came to mind of my childhood and my mum’s passing at home. So much joy, so much sorrow. It was home for so long to me, but now seemed like a time so long ago. I never knew a word for this existed. Thank you
Kenopsia is a new word to me, and I thank you. Abandoned shopping malls elicit such a response. There was partly defunct place in Long Beach, CA. that was so creepy we always thought it would be a great place to film a horror movie, even though there were still some viable businesses open.
What a great word! Kenopsia. I feel it often when I see pictures of wilderness in the mountains where I used to live, and camp and hike, and become acutely aware of my own absence from those spaces because I am no longer physically able to access them. I recognize that this is a particularly self-centered and subjective perception, because those spaces do just fine without me (or any other humans) there; there is nothing desolate about them, yet I feel I am projecting my own internal sense of desolation that is invoked in me when I recognize what feels like that void inside myself.
Love this.
In Vaporwave, there's a whole music genre dedicated to Anemoia (while it can be either nostalgia about a time you've never lived through, or a longing for a place you've never visited, usually Asian megacities).
I've just realized, while reading this, that I've definitely felt weird moments of Lachesism in my life.
And don't get me started about sonder – I've been struggling to describe that feeling for ages, and I've often used a music video reference to explain it (Massive Attack's "Protection", to be exact). Not sure if that word will be helpful moving forward but it's just beautiful to realize that it's quite a common feeling.
About kenopsia: I feel it I watch this channel about abandoned shopping malls on Youtube.
A la orden en remoto. Gracias
Se rescató la necesidad de apreciar la SOLEDAD y la paz interna para potenciar la CREATIVIDAD INFINITA.
"The final part of Koenig’s definition for kenopsia refers to a conspicuous absence that glows like neon signs. I consider the incandescence of the inanimate cellar. Even the dust has a lustre. I feel like a moth. This is one space I’d prefer to see repopulated with life." You write so beautifully, Christian! Thanks for introducing several new words to my vocabulary today.
Wow, this hit hard. I have old stories and chat logs and all kinds of things saved from my teen years of the early Internet and I succumb all too often to rereading them. It's nostalgia, for sure, but I think the feeling of the friendships that are no more and the people we all used to be is what affects me the most during these walks down memory lane. Perhaps this is kenopsia?
The Curious Platypus brought me here. This is an excellent post. I love learning new words and this is a great one. In a revisit to Star Trek Voyager the other day I watched the episode where they travel through a part of space where there are no stars (1st ep Season 5) One of the crew has a panic attack and the Doctor diagnoses Nihilophobia which is Fear of Nothingness - Great I thought, that describes my nightly panic when I close my eyes.... very disappointed to discover it is a Trekkie made up word. Kind of want to make it mainstream for those of us who suffer from existential angst ha ha.
Kenopsia -- Thank you for giving me a word for a scene that from my childhood has always seemed the essence of melancholy: An English seaside resort, post-season, the wind cold, the sea rough and uninviting, the concession stands shuttered, the chairs and tables stacked and upside-down, no one there.... This is only poignant in the autumn: Winter is Coming (sorry, George R.R.); in Spring there's anticipation of summer.
Excellent post, writing and perspectives... thank you.