Yearning
Yearning is the body holding a posture toward what it cannot reach. Not a small desire, not a failed one — a stretch the corpus has been preserving for centuries, often under the German word *Sehnsucht*, which English has never quite carried. Vela reads yearning as a primary in its own right because the cost of conflating it with desire is missing what the writers keep saying.
Working definition · Grief-coupled stretch toward distance—want that knows its object may stay out of reach.
943 passages · 16 Vela essays · in 1 cluster
Vela’s read on this emotion
Yearning is among the most cross-cultural of the emotions Vela reads. Several languages have a word for the stretch toward what stays out of reach, and English has been borrowing them for a hundred years because its own vocabulary is thin.
*Sehnsucht* — the German Romantic word, taken up by Goethe and Schiller and later by C. S. Lewis — names the longing for something beyond what the present can offer. *Saudade* — the Portuguese word, central to fado music and to the literature of the Lusophone world — names the bittersweet presence of an absent good. *Hiraeth* — the Welsh word — names a longing for a home one cannot return to, or perhaps never had. *Mono no aware* — the Japanese aesthetic principle — names the gentle sadness at the impermanence of things. Each word holds a slightly different angle on the same posture.
Yearning is not the same as desire, longing, nostalgia, or grief. Desire can be satisfied; yearning holds satisfaction as conditional. Longing is yearning settled into chronicity. Nostalgia faces the past; yearning faces forward. Grief faces backward toward what won't return; yearning faces toward what may not arrive, but might.
*On Yearning* — the slower companion essay in the magazine — tracks the word's history and the literature that has been carrying it.
Study and magazine
Long-form guide in the magazine
*On Yearning* — the slower companion essay. Yearning as posture, not failed desire; what other languages have been preserving in words English has never quite carried — *Sehnsucht*, *saudade*, *hiraeth*, *mono no aware*.
Read the guidePassages
Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.
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943 tagged passages
From The Decameron (1353)
Since his low station in life had not blinded him to the fact that this passion of his was thoroughly improper, he had the good sense not to breathe a word about it to anyone, nor did he even dare to cast tell-tale glances in the lady’s direction. But although he was quite resigned to the fact that he would never win her favour, he could at least claim that his thoughts were directed towards a lofty goal. And being scorched all over by the flames of love, he outshone every one of his companions by the zealous manner in which he performed any trifling service that might conceivably bring pleasure to the Queen. Thus it came about that whenever the Queen was obliged to go out on horseback, she preferred to ride the palfrey that was under his care, rather than any of the others. On these occasions, the fellow considered himself to be in his seventh heaven, and he would remain close beside her stirrup, almost swooning with joy whenever he was able simply to brush against the lady’s clothes. However, one frequently finds in affairs of this sort that the weakening of expectation goes hand in hand with a strengthening of the initial passion, and that is exactly what happened in the case of this poor groom. So much so, in fact, that having no glimmer of hope to sustain him, he found it increasingly difficult to keep his secret yearnings under control, and since he was unable to rid himself of his passion, he kept telling himself that he would have to die. In reflecting on the ways and the means, he was determined to die in such a manner that his motive, in other words his love for the Queen, would be inferred from the circumstances leading up to his death. And at the same time, he resolved that these circumstances should offer him an opportunity of trying his luck and seeing whether he could bring his desires either wholly or partially to fruition. Knowing that it would be quite futile to start either confiding in the Queen or writing letters to acquaint her with his love, he thought he would explore the possibility of entering her bed by means of a stratagem. He had already discovered that the King was not in the habit of invariably sleeping with her, and hence the one and only stratagem that might conceivably succeed was for him to find some way of impersonating the King so that he could approach her quarters and gain admittance to her bedchamber.
From The Divine Comedy (1950)
By her right easily may be known, how long the fire of love doth last in woman, if eye and touch do not oft rekindle it. The viper that the Milanese blazons on his shield will not make her so fair a tomb as Gallura’s cock would have done.” Thus spake he, his countenance stamped with the mark of that righteous zeal which in due measure glows in the breast. My yearning eyes were again turned towards heaven, even there where the stars are slowest, like a wheel nearest the axle. And my leader: “Son, what gazest thou at up there?” And I to him: “At those three torches, wherewith the whole pole here is flaming.” And he to me: “The four bright stars which thou sawest this morn are low on the other side, and these are risen where they were.” 6 As he was speaking, lo Sordello drew him to himself, saying: “See there our adversary,” and pointed his finger so that he should look thither. On that side where the little vale hath no rampart, was a snake, perchance such as gave to Eve the bitter food.
From Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body (2017)
84Some years ago, I looked up this boy from my past, wanted to know what had become of him. He does not have an uncommon name, but his name isn’t John Smith, either, so I had a chance. I looked and looked and looked. It became a minor obsession. Every day I scrolled through the hundreds of hits that came up when I searched his name on Google. I tried combinations of his name and the state where I knew him, but he no longer lives there. I tried to guess what he had become when he grew up—my first two guesses were politician or lawyer, so you can probably guess the kind of person he is. I found him. He is neither a politician nor a lawyer, but I wasn’t far off. People don’t change. I wondered if I would recognize him. I shouldn’t have. There are some faces you don’t forget. He looks exactly the same. Exactly. He looks older, but not by much. His hair is darker. I know how long it has been since I last saw him in years, months, and days. It has been more than twenty years but fewer than thirty. I would recognize him anywhere. He wears his hair in the same style he always has, real glossy-catalog preppy. He has a wide face. He’s an executive at a major company. He has a fancy title. He has the same smug facial expression, that sort of “the world is mine” cockiness innate to some people, people like him. Ever since I found him, I Google him every few days or so like I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t go missing. I need to know where he is. I need to understand, at all times, the distance between him and me, just in case. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Or I do. I Googled him when I wrote this book. I don’t know why. Or I do. I sat for hours, staring at his picture on his webpage on his company’s website. It nauseates me. I can smell him. This is what the future brings. I think about tracking him down the next time I’m in his city. I am there sometimes. If I told my friends there what I was doing, they would try to stop me, so I would wait and keep my plans to myself, commit a sin of omission. I am good at waiting. I could make the time to find him. He wouldn’t recognize me. I was skinny when he knew me and much shorter. I was very small and cute and smart but not smart. I am not that girl anymore. I could find him and hide in plain sight. I saw to that. He wouldn’t see me. He would look right through me. I know where he works and his e-mail address and his phone number and fax number. I don’t have these things written down, but I know.