Sonderlust: How Words and Main Character Energy Influence Our Realities
Not all those who sonder are lost?
Somewhere in the infinite expanse of the Pinterest and Tumblr multiverse, there’s a wormhole for unusual words. Objectively uncommon terms such as “elysian” (beautiful or creative; divinely inspired) and “aubade” (a song greeting the dawn) are spelled out and defined in serif font, waiting to resonate with starry-eyed scrollers. I’ve also come across words in other languages that describe feelings the English language has no known vocabulary for: “komorebi” (Japanese, sunlight filtering through trees), “meraki” (Greek, when you do something with soul, creativity or love; putting a piece of yourself into what you do) and “fika” (Swedish, a moment to slow down and appreciate the good things in life).
While these words and definitions make me feel as though I’m romanticizing life on a fluffy white cloud, they also evoke a deep sense of satisfaction reminiscent of pressing a final piece into a puzzle. They have the ability to validate certain human experiences in a way our current lexicons cannot.
A few months ago, I came across a Pinterest post titled “23 Emotions people feel, but can’t explain,” screenshotted from Tumblr user tai-korczak. I skimmed the list out of curiosity and found myself fixated on the word “sonder,” described as “the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.” Although I’ve seen this word before, something about that definition hit home with a certain thought pattern that’s been circulating my brain.
Along with several of my friends, I’ve been navigating the next steps in my career, which is a process that includes but is not limited to: identifying my truest strengths and passions, questioning my general impact in the world, and thinking deeply about measures of success from both societal and personal standpoints. *Deep breath.* As someone who spends a decent amount of time online and visiting new cities, I often find myself overwhelmed (but also extremely fascinated, entertained, inspired, and disturbed) by all of the lives being lived.
I’ve compared Justin Bieber to my next door neighbor, wondering why being an international pop sensation is really such a Big Deal in the scheme of things. (And then I find myself thinking about how low the odds of becoming that ridiculously famous are, getting lost in numbers I can barely conceptualize.) All bias aside, a good person who contributes to the betterment of humanity in some way seems like a solid image of success to me. It’s humbling, like how a retiree who volunteers bi-weekly at a children’s library might think. But seriously, we’re all just people sandwiched between generations of even more people in our one out of two trillion (!) galaxies, so when you zoom way out, what actually matters?
I have been deep in the trenches of quarter-life crisis warfare for a while now, and the existential part has been churning out the tough questions. In the back and forth, I have pigeonholed myself between two concepts: being exceptional and being insignificant, for lack of a better term. I want to be great! But what does that mean exactly, and more importantly, how do I get there? Knowing I am not alone in my experience is both comforting and disturbing. I’ll frame it like this: In a Truman Burbank or Holden Caulfield fashion, when a protagonist has moments of breakthrough and realizes their self-importance is almost a mockery, how are they supposed to recover? How can they escape the cog-in-a-machine mentality or the rebellious urge to nonconform and just be? TL;DR: You are special … and you also are not.
After a bit of internet digging, I discovered “sonder” is not recognized as a word by any formal dictionary, or at least in a way that doesn’t have to do with boats. “Sonder,” along with several other words, comes from a project called The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, created by writer John Koenig. The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows was first launched in 2014 as a YouTube channel featuring Koenig’s original words in short, cinematic videos. In 2021, a book by the same name was published, a means to further capture “the fundamental strangeness of being a human being.”
In a 2016 TED Talk called “Beautiful New Words to Describe Obscure Emotions,” Koenig explains his desire to help humans realize they’re not so alone in their seemingly complex and isolating experiences. Koenig discusses the appreciation he’s received from audience members as a result and questions the authority of “real” words, using the popularity of “sonder” as an example. He compares words to keys, capable of unlocking access to people’s brains. “Remember, words are not real,” Koenig concludes. “They don’t have meaning. We do.”
While discussing the word “sonder” in his TED Talk, Koenig identifies “main character energy” as a key element in the experience, a concept that also immediately jumped out to me. Our lives revolve around, well … ourselves, and when they spin out far enough, we’re shaken by the cruel magnitude of reality. Nowadays, main character energy mostly embraces an approach to life that’s all about aggressively manifesting positive change, delusions aside. The New Yorker describes main character moments as “those in which you feel ineffably in charge, as if the world were there for your personal satisfaction,” delving into the pandemic’s role in perpetuating the protagonist’s POV. Being in the moment now seems to be less aspirational than being the moment.
Of course, we’re supposed to self-advocate and pursue our goals, hopes, and dreams. We’re also conditioned to change our profile pictures and answer “tell us a little more about yourself” in a matter of seconds. I don’t want to go into a whole “social media has taken over our lives” spiel because for one, everyone’s already well-aware of this, and two, that’s a very ambitious task. Gone are the days of talk show hosts determining what’s relevant or not; daytime television is no longer bestowed with the sole honor of informing the youth or shaping adults’ pop culture knowledge. Fame is so relative to the media you consume that micro-influencers and their podcasts can sit in niche areas of the internet while reeling in the numbers. I have come across Instagram accounts with millions of followers and thought, “Where have I been? Who is that?” I don’t know if they grew into public figure-dom by living in a villa or by playing video games. And it doesn’t matter at all what I think. Their stories aren’t mine, and I’m probably never going to read them.
TikTok has indisputably become the modern gold mine for main character moments. There are entire communities behind RushTok, nonplayable character (NPC) live streaming, the tube girl, the Susie stitch AND SO MUCH MORE. My brain hurts from the idea of even trying to tackle it all. It’s where the Roman Empire discussion was recirculated and where musicians continue to find overwhelming viral success. With enough talent and luck, you can become the next American Idol by uploading a video. One salmon rice bowl recipe and you’re set for life. (Emily Mariko has it figured out.) And not to mention the absurd drama: amateur detectives solving true crime cases, interior designers feuding over decor, makeup artists faking mascara results. Ten minutes on my algorithmed up “For You” page, and my world opens up just a little bit more.
So how are we all supposed to cope with these expansive content bubbles in our tiny hands? I’ve come to the simple conclusion that as long as we stay main characters in our own respective digital lives, the cycle of content creation and consumption can live on in harmony. But, if we crave greater perspective, knowledge, or inspiration, it’s all right there, ripe for the taking. Supporting roles enrich the plot too. Ah, sonder.
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It’s taken me more than a couple months to write this because how I view myself and the world shifts a little each day. If I were to try writing a piece about sonder and main character energy in five months, it’d look completely different. Ultimately, I land on the philosophy that we’re all here to do what we can with what we have, little by little. I look around and accept that my perception of the world is sometimes only as far as I can see, even with all the tools at my disposal, and that’s just sort of how the world works. After all, we live in a society, and we might as well enjoy as much as possible.
So, I will continue to agonize over my career, my outfit choices, and my love life. I’ll worry about microplastics, warfare, and the future; I’ll watch my friends monitor their stories for likes, and we’ll huff about minor inconveniences, offer each other advice, and venture out on weekend trips. Within those moments, I know there are times in which I will feel big and full of life and times in which I will feel small, even hopeless. I will be the main character and another person on the planet.