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English has always been a hungry language: it readily devours words from other languages and from inventive word-crafters, assimilating new words into its own rich, varied vocabulary. English never seems to lose its appetite for new morsels, borrowed or fresh. These days, in response to accelerating climate change, people are experiencing feelings for which English does not supply quite the precise terms, at least according to Australian environmental studies professor and philosopher, Glenn A. Albrecht.

So Albrecht is proposing to remedy this situation by making up new words, assembling them mostly from familiar Latin and Greek roots. He has coined the term psychoterratic, for example, to describe the range of human psychological responses to place. The feelings you experience as you turn off an exit on the highway toward your home neighborhood, or walk through a sun-warmed wildflower meadow, or relax as you listen to the rilling of a river, or recall the farm where you spent your childhood, or longingly plan a visit to an ocean beach you’ve never seen—those are all psychoterratic responses.

Let’s see if some of Albrecht’s other linguistic inventions awaken something for you. (These terms are presented on his blog, except as noted.)

Eutierra. The way your heart lifts when you reach the end of the dirt road, and the silky horizon where the lake meets the sky comes into view, and you smell the water and the sun shimmers diamonds on the lake’s wrinkled, restless surface. The way your body melts as you lie down on the warm sand while the whush of the waves envelops every other sound. The way your breath catches when you crest the next rise on the wooded trail and emerge into sky, smacked with a vista of the undulating, spruce-shaggy valley below. You are feeling a “positive feeling of oneness with the earth and its life forces.”

Psychoterratic dis-ease. You feel this as you drive down the busiest big-box shopping street in town, with its riotous tangle of lighted signs and power lines and roaring traffic and potholed parking lots spreading from lot line to lot line. Or every day in your neighborhood, as you walk past trashed empty lots and boarded up businesses and weedy, pathetic yards in front of sagging porches. Psychoterratic dis-ease hits when your environment is ugly and hostile and causes you stress.

Or maybe you’re sick. Somaterratic illness describes what happens when you live close to factories or mining operations that pollute the water and air and cause high rates of asthma, cancer, lead poisoning. You are poor, of course, and do not have the means to escape these ruined environs. Or you are suffering from heat stress or malnutrition or both because though your ancestors have lived on this land for ages, now it’s under water, or too dry, or it alternates wildly between the two, or it’s too close to a coast that is disappearing under a rising ocean. This is not your fault, but you suffer the consequences.

Solastalgia. This is about grief, a “melancholia or homesickness” for the way a place used to be. Grandpa’s voluptuous garden, formerly kaleidoscopic with vegetables and flowers, was neglected by the next homeowner, and is now nothing but thistles and garlic mustard. The wetland where you used to spend quiet hours watching herons lift, their stilt-legs dangling, is now a Wal-Mart. Pine beetles transformed the verdant mountain slopes into an upright cemetery of brown tree corpses; fires blackened chapparal-laced hills and devastated homes into ashy rubble; island homelands seem to be sinking under a rising sea. The solace you once felt in your home place has evaporated, replaced by hopeless desolation. Hopeless because you have no power to change anything about it.    

Kenopsia. This is the “eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned.” A place usually full of people seems “hyper-empty” when the people are gone. I wonder if we could apply this term to nonhuman absences, too. Because of species extinctions already behind us, coral reefs and ponds and forests have gone quieter, emptier: kenopsiac, you might say. If we manage to make this planet uninhabitable for humans, will the animals that do survive feel kenopsia? (This term is not from Albrecht, but from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.)

Perhaps to prevent the worst outcomes of human carelessness and neglect, we need to get in touch with our terranascient emotions. These are the feelings that drive us to care for our places well. To study, to work, to practice restraint, to build community around habits that nourish places and souls at once: to renew and rebuild. You’re a poor farmer whose traditional practices no longer work, so drawing on hope and determination, you learn how to use vermicomposting to improve yield and enrich rather than deplete the soil with each harvest. You’re a landowner who works with neighbors and businesses upstream to eliminate the pollution that affects everyone along the river and to repopulate the eroded banks with native plants. You’re propelled by a longing for flourishing.

To make a lasting difference, you also need soliphilia, the “love of working with other people to save loved places at all scales.” Caring for place requires fellow feeling, love for neighbor, an abiding concern for the common good, the stamina to work together over the long term. Idolizing property rights, privacy, and autonomy to the neglect of a wholistic and future-oriented view abandons us to the worst results of our selfish impulses. We are going to need to draw on solidarity and love.

If we can find soliphilia, we might be able to usher in the Symbiocene, an emerging era in which humans finally accept the reality that, ultimately, we all live or die together. Humans have become so powerful that we can destroy ourselves and the planet, quickly or slowly, one way or the other. Can we alter our lifeways so that instead we “live together for mutual benefit”? Humans and creatures, humans and soil, humans and oceans and lakes and rivers?

Doxecological. I made this one up myself. It describes a motivation for the work of earth-healing that arises from the Scriptures, especially the Psalms: “Praise the Lord from the earth, you great sea creatures and all ocean depths.” Lightning and hail, mountains and hills, wild animals and cattle, princes and maidens—all that hath breath is created for praise. Doxecology is striving for the mutual flourishing of humans and creatures for the praise and glory of the Creator. Soli deo gloria, amen.

Prof. Albrecht, who seems to extrude new terms as smoothly as a pasta machine, has a book coming out in May with Cornell Press. It’s called Earth Emotions, and will list and define dozens more terms besides the ones described here. I first learned of him through the podcast Mothers of Invention, which features women leaders working innovatively toward a new way of caring for the planet. Episode 1.4, “Under the Weather,” features Dr. Anne Poelina, a Nyikina Warrwa Traditional Custodian and academic from Western Australia. She mentioned the term solastalgia on the podcast, and that sent me off on a research tear. Image by artist Eric Filion.

Debra Rienstra

I am a writer and literature professor, teaching literature and creative writing at Calvin University, where I have been on the faculty since 1996. Born and bred in the Reformed tradition, I’ve been unable to resist writing four books about theological topics: beware the writer doing theology without a license. My most recent book is Refugia Faith: Seeking Hidden Shelters, Ordinary Wonders, and the Healing of the Earth (Fortress, 2022). Besides the books, I’ve written well over two hundred essays for the RJ blog as well as numerous articles, poems, and reviews in popular and scholarly contexts. I have a B.A. from the University of Michigan (Go Blue!) and a M.A. and Ph.D. from Rutgers. I am married to Rev. Dr. Ron Rienstra, and together we have three grown children. Besides reading and writing, I love classical music, science fiction, fussing in the yard, hiking, and teaching myself useful skills like plant identification and—maybe someday—drywall repair.


  • John VanStaalduinen says:

    Somaterratic illness, this term describes the old testament times of famine, seven years of drought, then years of plenty etc etc. Human activity back then was apparently very rough on the environment, in fact one time the oceans rose high enough to cover all of the then know mountains.

  • Gloria Goris Stronks says:

    And to have a word for an emotion helps us recognize that we have the emotion. This is wonderful. Thank you so very much.

  • RLG says:

    Thanks, Debra, for the introduction to some new and imaginative words. I doubt that I will ever use any of them in conversation. I sometimes wonder what the point is to making up works that have to be explained along with its use (as you have done in this article). Why not just explain what you mean to say. I realize that writing should be geared to the educational level of one’s readers. What might be the educational level for the usage of the new words listed in this article? I have a master’s degree and doubt that I will ever hear them used in conversation. And if by chance I do hear them used, they will still need to be explained. Or are these words just for show? Maybe I should reread the article. I do like your invented word, “doxecological.” Indeed, all of creation sings praise unto God.

  • Fred Mueller says:

    We can be grumpy about this or enjoy it. Might one have a case of hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia?

  • RLG says:

    Thanks, Fred. You make my point. I either have a case of hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia or I’m grumpy. I do understand grumpy.

  • Mike Weber says:

    I have to say that these are not “English” words, but Latin words masquerading as English. I also thought that the best writing made use of Anglo Saxon words and avoided Latinisms.

    Euterria as defined by the author has much more descriptive words in English, “awe,” “transcendence,” “a sense of oneness with the Great Chain of Being.”

    Any word that requires four or more syllables to describe a feeling is an exercise in futility. These words are at best esoteric and at worst elitist. I fear that English will be diminished if these jargonish words catch on. My hope is that they die a quiet death.

  • JoAnne Zoller Wagner says:

    Debra, I have adopted your “Doxecological.” Love it, and love the idea of naming feelings we have in relation to the Earth so that we can become more self and Earth aware. Thanks for sharing these.

  • Matt Osgood says:

    Re: doxecological – you might be interested in this 🙂

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