Sonder: The realisation that the world is so much bigger than me

When my world feels too big to process, I remember Sonder.

I sit at my desk looking out the window, and one person after another walks by.

A grey-haired woman has deep lines etched into her face, her eyes drooping as they glisten. Her shoulders slump, her movements slow as she struggles to carry her shopping bag.

A toddler is crying, his hands covering his ears as he stomps his feet. His mother hovers close by, glancing around, arms crossed tightly over her body.

A family huddles together. Dad’s on the phone, Mum checks her pretty watch, casting glances his way. The young girl, with red-rimmed eyes, glares at her feet. A boy not much younger leans back against the glass with one leg up. Big headphones on, chin tipped up as he stares into the distance.

A man wraps his arms around a woman, closing her in. Gentle kisses pepper the top of her head. She glances up, her eyes sparkling, cheeks rosy. Their eyes connect. The world melts away around them as his lips move in a whisper. She smiles as four words fall from her lips.

So many lives, intermingling together.

One day. One moment. One tram stop. One city.

And there’s me.

Sat at my desk on a random Tuesday, picking at my nails, tapping my foot, my muscles tense inside this cage.

My brain whirls. My imagination ignites, and I start picturing the complexities of others’ lives.

The world is so much bigger than me. Than us.

That old lady — a tear drops from her eyes. What if she’s just lost her husband, and she’s doing the shopping for the first time without him? My heart squeezes.

That mum has been up all night with a child who has special needs, desperate for help — and for people to stop judging her. My throat goes tight.

My eyes flash to the family, contemplating their problems. Because nothing is perfect, right? Mum gestures wildly, her eyes pinched and sharp. Dad rubs his face, his other hand clutching his phone, knuckles white. The young boy and girl shift on their feet, looking at everything and anything but their parents. I gulp, rubbing my hand over my chest.

The couple now stand so close together, hands clasped. Eyes glued to one another. My body warms, and a small smile dances on my lips as I tap the pen on my desk.

Then I remember.

When the world feels too small, I look further than my nose. I think about sonder — the realisation that passersby have their own troubles, issues, goals, and ambitions.

It isn’t just me alone at my desk.

The world starts to feel bigger, my problems smaller.

We make assumptions about people and their lives, sometimes wishing for her hair, his confidence, that style.

It’s usually a mask of what’s underneath. Hurt. Grief. Loneliness. Excitement. Happiness. Love. It could be anything.

That person you’re admiring is no different from you.

Just a person in their world — and you in sonder.

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