Sonder

The mood was light and energetic. I was running on an accomplishment rush; happiness littered the air as I decided to reward myself with some light reading. A friend had mentioned that she was an author of a blog and I was curious. Good. Casual writing was a great way to end a day.

She was always happy. Always so cool. I wanted to be just like her. Sexy. Intelligent. Creative. Good-hearted. I felt the desperate need to have her closet. She had her shit together. But before I even know it, I am swept away from the shallows of her daily experiences or our occasional banter, and into deep sea. This is real. Her depth and sadness of her past. The twisted roots of dark and dry humor. Her real self. I was changed and the way I saw her was disturbingly altered. There is a lump in my throat and I don’t even know how I’m supposed to approach her tomorrow at work. I feel remorseful for her loss yet unable to show how I care. My idolization of her immediately turns into pure respect.

sonder n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own — populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness — an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk

The feelings come in waves. Once a month, I’ll casually look out the window of my car and realize that there is no such thing as a random person or casual passerby, but a human being who has a story that could be composed of an infinite number of pages filled with stories, encounters, interactions, moments of utter joy, and moments that have filled their heart with enough despair to break it. The feeling spans through for people who I have seen for only a second to those who I consider my closest friends. Only a few months ago did I realize my friend of one year had battled cancer the years before coming to college and I wondered what more there could possibly be that was hidden from the painted impressions that were already imprinted in my brain.

Little snippets of perspective come and go. It’s so simple to live in your own world and worry about yourself. Your future with others. Your problems with others. Your relationships with others. Your joys with others. I constantly find myself worrying and crying about my life, but every once in a while the table turns and I finally wonder about what more goes on in every single intricate mind I may or may not have had the chance to try to unravel in my head. These little moments themselves then bring upon the the epitome of humility within each one of us.