There is a welsh word “hiraeth” that has no direct translation in the English language. Similar to nostalgia, hiraeth is associated with a longing for a bygone era, deep homesickness for a place to which you can no longer return, mixed with intense gratitude for its existence. It’s one of my favorite words. Hiraeth very accurately describes my feelings for my grandparents and their one time home in Diablo, California.
I spent several summers and Christmas holidays at my grandparent’s. The house sat inside a country club at the foot of Mount Diablo. It was white and gray, remodeled by my grandparents a few years after my arrival into the world, which meant that all of the fixtures were vintage, including the glass panes in the windows. My grandmother was a big antique lover.
In the summers, I would run barefoot underneath the big Eucalyptus trees finding snails amidst the plants and groundcover.
There was a small creek at the front of the house, which had a bridge to pass. I invented a game involving trolls, the bridge, and Eucalyptus seeds; I’m pretty sure there was no real objective to the game. My imagination ran wild.
We would go to the swimming pool, and after swimming for hours, my grandmother would pull me out, demanding that we have lunch, which usually consisted of a tuna sandwich, TAB, and Cheezits. We would then go to the living room to watch Martina Navratilova and Chris Everett battle it out on the tennis courts. I would fall into a deep sleep absorbing the coolness of the couch on my summer skin. My grandmother was smart and understood me. If she forced me to nap, I wouldn’t comply. She allowed me to drift naturally into the abyss.
My grandfather would come home from work, and they would recap their day on the deck in the warm glow of the sun. Shortly after, Grandpa would say, “I think the ducks are hungry.” In a flash, I would be in the golf cart with stale bread in my clutches.
Grandpa would sit me on his lap and allow me to steer the cart; he would take care of the pedals. When we would reach the ducks, they would all waddle to us excited about their imminent feast. (This was long before signs discouraged humans of feeding the animals human food. We thought we were helping.) We would quickly head back before sundown racing our way (as fast as golf carts can go) around the curves of the cart path and over hills. I would be giggling all the way.
The holidays at the house were a dream for me. I have no siblings, so during the holidays, when all of my aunts and uncles would arrive, filling the house with laughter and practical jokes, I would often listen and observe. I did not fully understand what happens when a person enters a short-sheeted bed or why my aunts were trying to make my uncle eat dogfood. They all seemed to think it was funny.
My grandmother and aunt taught me to make Christmas cookies, and after much interfering with their progress gave me a station to create my versions. They would invite neighbors over, and my aunt would bring out her guitar; everyone would sing along. The tree in the living room was so high I couldn’t see the top. It was magical.
I often reminisce about these times and recently decided to try to understand what these moments say about me; why do these moments evoke a feeling of hiraeth? Did these moments in my life shape parts of me?
The most obvious reason the times were meaningful for me was that in these moments, I could be a kid. I am a child of divorced parents. My mother and I lived in Phoenix, Arizona, while my father stayed in California. They were struggling financially, as many of us do in our very early twenties. I often felt their anxiety and carried it as my burden. But when I was with my grandparents, I didn’t need to worry about how mom would make the rent or take the emotional responsibilities of keeping her happy.
This past summer, when I took a moment to immerse myself in the memories, and journal on these experiences fully, I uncovered these three things about myself.
- I thrive when given freedom.
- I see tradition as a connection.
- When given time to express creatively, time flows, and I feel fulfilled.
Having taken the time to feel the feelings, and ask myself the meanings behind those feelings, I discovered more of my values. I applied them to my career.
It was clear to me that I needed to be out on my own, running my own business. The craving for independence drives me to achieve.
Seeing tradition as a connection reinforced my need for establishing sustainable personal habits like meditation and journaling. Traditions of connection to myself would fuel the growth I needed to start my own coaching business.
I’ve discovered creativity is a necessary ingredient to having a career and life that flows. Expressing myself with words, photography, designing my website (three times) has awakened an old part of me that was aching to come out of repression.
I encourage you to do this exercise for those moments for which you long. When you feel hiraeth, ask yourself why? Why does that moment hold such significant meaning? What does it say about your values? Taking a moment to explore can be powerful.
And, here’s to all the grandmothers and grandfathers who have shown us what it means to be a kid — sending them immense gratitude and love.
Five Interesting Facts about Nostalgia
- Studies have shown that when people experience nostalgia their body feels warm even if they are placed in a cold room
- Experiencing nostalgia increases your feelings of connection, social awareness, and existential meaning
- Nostalgia promotes growth-oriented behavior most likely due to the associated positive feelings and an increase in self-esteem
- Most people feel nostalgia during the holidays — smell, music, and touch are the biggest triggers
- People generally feel nostalgia during a period when they are having negative feelings. Nostalgia helps people reframe a situation helping them cope and strategize through stressful times.
