Not All Those Who Sonder Are Lost

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 above definition comes from the site: The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, and I think it might be my newest favorite site. Sonder is a realization, an epiphany that comes when you see that the guy who sells you coffee every morning has a picture of his family, or when that homeless man on the corner tells you that he graduated from Yale and served as an Army Ranger.  Now, with the impending possible discovery of parallel universes, thanks to the LHC, we may all have to acknowledge that we are not as truly remarkable and unique as we might sometimes like to believe. We tend to break the people in our lives (especially those on our peripheral) down to base stereotypes, unchanging and small boxes that allow us to view them in one light and then forget that they existed the moment they are gone. Sonder comes when those people surprise us and break out of the roles we assigned for them. Before that, they were just background characters, extras in the movie that is your life, your story.

It is interesting how stories, movies, plays, etc give us the language to talk  about this phenomenon. We are the main characters in our lives. Our story is about us, we see antagonists and challenges and plot twists wherever we look. We all see a cast of supporting characters, (our friends and family.) We understand that they are complex, but maybe not as complex of characters as we are. Then there are the extras, little more than set dressing to the happenings of our lives, but to them, we're the dressing. We become that guy standing on the subway, wearing the black jacket, or that girl walking down the street in uncomfortable shoes. More to the point that is all we will ever be in their stories, one-dimensional creatures. A few pixels in the background of a picture they took once. A voiceless body on the streets at night. All our problems, our thoughts, our wishes, our hopes, and fears, and loves, are nothing to them. Even celebrities are just faces on a screen. Yes, we may know their names and facts about their lives, but they still aren't the heroes of our stories.

This leads to a wrong-headed understanding that we are somehow important. It's what I am going to call ZSS, or Zombie Survivor Syndrome. Whenever people talk about the zombie apocalypse we always talk about what we would do to survive. We discuss how we would weather the crisis as part of a group of desperate survivors, but think about that. We never imagine it will be us who dies, who has the accident, who gets the heart attack. How could it be us? We are the hero? But statistically, you are more likely to wind up as Shambling Corpse #43 than as Rick or Carol, or any other survivor. Sonder is a state of understanding that we are not significant, at least not more so than anyone else around us. There is a saying that goes, "Everyone driving faster than me is a maniac, and everyone driving slower than me is a moron." Realizing that that is not true is sonder.

I have to admit, that I am broken, even just a little. Sonder is nothing new to me, though I never had a word to put to the sensation before. I have always been a bit too empathetic, at times it can prove a burden. Ever since I was a kid sitting in the back seat watching the passing cars I have wondered about the people in them. Where were they going? What did they do? Were they happy? Sad? Today I do it on a larger scale with co-workers and friends and the guy walking his dog on the street. Maybe that is just part of being a writer, a storyteller. I try to find the story in everyone I meet, but sometimes I also try not to. When you see everyone in the world as a potential diamond, than you realize that you are no different, no more special, than anyone else. The world doesn't owe me anything, at least not more or less than it owes that old woman at the supermarket. You see, there is a benefit to thinking you're special, it gives you drive and entitlement that helps you succeed. It helps to not think of all those zombie you are carelessly cutting through as special people: mothers, brothers, sisters, graphic designers, main characters in their own foregone life. We strive to be the Waldo, but sometimes we can't be. And sometimes we have to acknowledge that it's okay not to be.

Where's Waldo is a perfect microcosm of sonder. The whole name implies that we need to find this one person, this special person. Look at the image to the left. Can you see Waldo? He is hidden amongst a multitude of people and crowds, but we ignore all those people. All we want to do is find this one man in a weirdly striped shirt. Hell, it's the name of the game. It's become a cultural expression. We look for the needle in the haystack while ignoring the hay, but have you ever stopped to look at the other people occupying Waldo's world? They are alive, they have their own problems and triumphs. There are fireman putting out a fire that was obviously started by three incompetent chefs. There is a car accident, a man in scuba gear in the fountain, kids crossing the street, a janitor being attacked by birds, and two more LARPing for their own amusement on a rooftop. All those people have lives, and maybe even animated spouses and children and pet parakeets waiting for them at home.

There is also a man at the bottom. He is on the right most ladder. He is trying to flirt with one of the secretary's working in the building, and it looks like she is responding. Maybe this is the culmination of his life, the thing he has been secretly hoping for, the love he has been waiting for? Or maybe he is an egotistically chauvinist asshole, but he is living the story as his own main character, completely oblivious to the idiot in the red and white hat and hiking gear. In fact, of all the people on this page, I would argue Waldo is one of the more boring ones. Sure he is seeing the world, but is he living in it? Whenever we see him he's alone, never engaged with another person or doing something wacky or something fun. He just stands there. So, yes, he is the main character of this book, but is that always the best thing? For my money I would rather be part of the couple who is standing in front of the building on fire. They are shoulder to shoulder watching the calamity unfurl as a chef tries to explain himself to a fireman, but they are together and there is something sweet about it, something that Waldo will never get to experience.

A state of sonder does not mean to imply that we are not unique, just not as unique as we sometimes think. You are not a diamond among the rough, just a diamond among many others. Still, a diamond is a diamond, and if more people thought like like this, if more people experienced sonder, than maybe the world would be a better place. After all, there is a benefit to not being Waldo, to being the guy standing above it all, looking down on the world and its all beauty and fountain scuba diving. When you stop thinking of yourself as something different you get to see how truly alike we all are. There will never be another you, but there will also never be another person like your mailman or that taxi driver that ran those two red lights or your baby niece in her crib. When you understand sonder, you understand how precious the world is, and how truly lucky we are to spend a few years passing through it.