No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thine own Or of thine friend’s were. Each man’s death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee.
John Donne
sonder [ son-der ] noun the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles: In a state of sonder, each of us is at once a hero, a supporting cast member, and an extra in overlapping stories.
Dictionary.com
It’s none of my business why someone is wearing headphones when they are walking around town, what they are or are not listening to, or why they chose to wear gigantic ones that look like a vintage glam version of a Korean War radio setup.
Especially when I take the bus or go to the supermarket, it’s hard not to notice mostly people my age and younger wearing large, studio-style over-the-ear headphones. I imagine they are a lot harder to lose track of than earbuds, might be more comfortable on the inner ear, and avoid the waxy grossness that in-ear headphones face. They might also be more cost-effective compared to earbuds for the time being.
More than anything though, I bet they help with overstimulation in noisy areas and visually broadcast to others “leave me alone.” I can definitely feel the need for that.
I tend to carry a small pair of off-brand earbuds around with me, but I don’t use them nearly as much as you’d think. In fact, except when I’m specifically trying to focus or I’m listening to an audiobook, I like hearing and connecting with what’s around me. Not for any grouchy, holier-than-thou, “put down your phone and touch grass” reasons either. Those opinions and the people who have them irritate me.
It’s because I’m a writer and a storyteller, and to tell good stories you have to learn to listen and find them first.
Earlier today, I got more “people time” than I bargained for walking through a street fair on the way to do some errands. I got a little excited and decided to walk the length of the street, weaving my way through so that I could take a peek at each side of the little “quads” of booths set up in the middle of the street.
Nothing really grabbed me as I walked through, not even the food stalls (surprisingly few and far between as there were), and by the time I got to the end I’d mostly just had enough of crowds. A less-than-stellar cocktail and lunch later in a silent bar (“less-than-stellar” in this instance means that after dropping $38, I really shouldn’t have wanted or needed a $5 slice of pizza next door to round out the meal,) I was pretty ready to just go back home for the day.
There’s something to be said for going out just to come home again. The quiet and solitude felt like sliding into a cool pond even as my cat nudged me for attention.
Knowing when you’ve had enough is part of knowing yourself and self-care. As chatty and gregarious as I can be, I know when I’m ready to just enjoy my own company for a bit. It’s why I keep those headphones in my pocket, even if I rarely use them.
Diving in and swimming with the flow of active life is important. We humans are literally not built for isolation. Once you recognize and give in to “Sonder” a bit, it’s hard to treat others like they are just “NPCs” in your life. Every person has a life as rich of experiences, joys, fears, worries, loves and nightmares as your own, and recognizing that makes it easier to deal more kindly and generously with others. It’s the heart of empathy.
Equally important to diving into that river of life is knowing when it’s time to pull yourself back up on the riverside and dry yourself in the sun. Doing so isn’t “selfish” or antisocial- quite the opposite. Having boundaries and respecting your own and others makes it possible to connect with the world earnestly. Boundaries and knowing our limits are how we tell others (and ourselves,) “Yes, we are all connected, but this is where I end and you begin, and that is fine.”
The Black Hat Baker 