“Sonder” is an English neologism coined by John Koenig. It describes the realization that behind all the fleeting human encounters in our everyday lives lie complete worlds — as complex and vivid as our own. This idea is one of my favorite pastimes on long drives: in every other car, a human experience is unfolding — including all the love and all the pain that I, too, know. We overlap only briefly, yet we always share the fact that each of us is trying to make the best of our individual worlds.
Koenig’s The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows contains more of these fascinating concepts, for example “Énouement” — the bittersweet feeling of having arrived in the future and finally knowing how things turned out, yet being unable to tell your past self.
Sharpening our perception of these subtle facets of experience is something we can train, for example through meditation. At first, it can feel like a blurry and impenetrable skill. What could possibly be the value of spending ten minutes a day in a cross-legged position, watching yourself breathe?
For me, the mere fact that meditation is healthy isn’t enough motivation to start. What motivates me instead is the simple observation that my entire experience, my entire world, consists solely of consciousness. Everything I perceive appears there: every sensory impression, every thought, every feeling. My mind is all I have.
My life is shaped by what I direct my attention toward. Meditation trains exactly this. The breath and other points of focus are only exercises for the real goal: observing the process of attention itself — not just the detail it is currently resting on, but also the shifting of attention as it happens.
The breath has always served as an entry point: observing without controlling. Leaning back internally, we can watch the body breathe on its own. In doing so, we become the space in which the next breath arises by itself. The same applies to sounds, bodily sensations, and thoughts.
Just as with the breath, we can observe the spotlight of our awareness as it moves and refocuses, without actively steering it. This is why some philosophies argue that our sense of decision-making and self is only an illusion. Sam Harris writes in The Moral Landscape:
Our sense of our own freedom results from our not paying attention to what it is actually like to be what we are. The moment we do pay attention, we begin to see that free will is nowhere to be found, and our subjectivity is perfectly compatible with this truth. Thoughts and intentions simply arise in the mind. What else could they do? The truth about us is stranger than many suppose: The illusion of free will is itself an illusion.
Yet the accessibility of a perspective in which “free will is nowhere to be found” does not, for me, prove that we have no influence on the world at all. In Life As No One Knows It, Sara Imari Walker points out that discussions about free will are often framed in black and white — as if there were only two options: either we have full control over every aspect of our world, or none whatsoever.
Perhaps it is more of a spectrum. The laws of physics certainly impose clear limits on my free will. As much as I would love to fly, I can’t. But within what is physically possible, we may have a certain range of choice. And we certainly have more of it when we’re not helplessly at the mercy of our automatic patterns of attention.
This necessary curiosity can be trained not only through formal meditation. Daily life is a chain of situations that, with a curious stance, we can either energize or drain of stress. This is how we make sure not to overlook the exquisite Sonder and Énouement of human existence.
Exercise 🧘: At a busy place, take a moment to become aware of the complex inner worlds of the people around you. Silently wish them the best for the challenges ahead in their day.
✒️ Quote of the Week: “In the space between chaos and shape there was another chance.” -Jeanette Winterson
🍿 Video of the Week: Weird Things Begin to Happen When You Examine Consciousness
🎧 Song of the Week: IOTO – Colossus
I want to expand the format of this newsletter by responding to comments or questions from readers. Of course, I’ll need some comments and questions first 😂 So I’d love to hear from you!
Did something in my writing catch your attention? Was there an idea you found particularly intriguing? Or is there a question that’s been on your mind related to these topics?
Just comment here or write to me at mail@urth.blog 👈
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