As usual, an often profound entry into the ALTE archives. Love the word “sonder” and it makes me think of possible rhymes for my poems. Wander, fonder, maunder, who knows? Thanks for your ideas.
The concept of sonder is lovely, but the word itself is kind of ugly to me — especially given the association with the "sonderkommandos," "special commandos," of Nazism. A friend of mine made me aware of this after I'd published the piece.
As a child I think I really only had moments of a kind of sonderism on a more individual basis. I would see a person, usually an elder or a person who struck me as being poor, walking or sitting at a restaurant or on a public bench and wonder if they were in fact alone and lonely in their life and what their life was like. On a much larger scale, before I understood to some degree how our earth and the universe functioned, I remember looking up at the stars in the sky thinking their light was that of lights of cities all around our country and the world, marveling at all those people and wondering what they might be doing and how they were living.
More recently, we had a family of cardinals nesting just outside a window of our home in a rhododendron. Realizing that the mother, sitting on 3 eggs, was often frightened away when we even walked past the window we kept the window blind closed except for occasionally opening the blind a few inches to have a peek. It was so exciting when three babies arrived over a period of a couple of days. While outdoors we could observe the parents going to and from the nest. But then about a week later we discovered two babies below the nest, one looking as if something had partially eaten it, both of course dead. A couple of days later the last of the three was simply gone. I found myself wondering what the parent birds experienced as grief and how they possibly processed that. Some might accuse me of anthropomorphizing, but I think we have no idea how our fellow beings experience life.
As a kid, on the train from Danbury to NYC, the tracks would pass close enough to apartment buildings so that I could almost see inside. I spent the entire time almost chanting to myself, "another family and another family and another family"-- distressed that I could not keep up with the stories that lived inside.
Enjoyed your sonder stories especially your honesty in discovering women are actually human beings. Through out his-tory women have mostly been a cut above oxen. Hope mankind will accept other gendered people as human.
As usual, an often profound entry into the ALTE archives. Love the word “sonder” and it makes me think of possible rhymes for my poems. Wander, fonder, maunder, who knows? Thanks for your ideas.
The concept of sonder is lovely, but the word itself is kind of ugly to me — especially given the association with the "sonderkommandos," "special commandos," of Nazism. A friend of mine made me aware of this after I'd published the piece.
As a child I think I really only had moments of a kind of sonderism on a more individual basis. I would see a person, usually an elder or a person who struck me as being poor, walking or sitting at a restaurant or on a public bench and wonder if they were in fact alone and lonely in their life and what their life was like. On a much larger scale, before I understood to some degree how our earth and the universe functioned, I remember looking up at the stars in the sky thinking their light was that of lights of cities all around our country and the world, marveling at all those people and wondering what they might be doing and how they were living.
More recently, we had a family of cardinals nesting just outside a window of our home in a rhododendron. Realizing that the mother, sitting on 3 eggs, was often frightened away when we even walked past the window we kept the window blind closed except for occasionally opening the blind a few inches to have a peek. It was so exciting when three babies arrived over a period of a couple of days. While outdoors we could observe the parents going to and from the nest. But then about a week later we discovered two babies below the nest, one looking as if something had partially eaten it, both of course dead. A couple of days later the last of the three was simply gone. I found myself wondering what the parent birds experienced as grief and how they possibly processed that. Some might accuse me of anthropomorphizing, but I think we have no idea how our fellow beings experience life.
"horny heterosexual man"....yes brother, I know what you mean, a not unpleasant burden and distraction throughout my long life. What's a guy to do?
As a kid, on the train from Danbury to NYC, the tracks would pass close enough to apartment buildings so that I could almost see inside. I spent the entire time almost chanting to myself, "another family and another family and another family"-- distressed that I could not keep up with the stories that lived inside.
Enjoyed your sonder stories especially your honesty in discovering women are actually human beings. Through out his-tory women have mostly been a cut above oxen. Hope mankind will accept other gendered people as human.