Linda and I are often the last ones to leave a movie theater. This is because Linda likes to watch all the credits: she is interested in where the movie is filmed, the production company, the gaffer and best boy, the caterers and so forth. I’ve come to believe that she has the right idea – it’s amazing how many individuals are required to make a movie. Life is kind of like that, full of main characters and supporting cast.
Each of us, of course, is the star of our own movie… and others are simply supporting actors in that drama, comedy, action thriller, or horror show. Have you ever stopped to think that our ‘performances’ are broadcast to the universe in the outgoing light and perhaps some alien presence viewing light from our planet’s past are watching our reruns? What would you name your movie? (I’m currently filming an episode, Wal’s Complex Relationship with His House).
Sometimes I get stuck in my own script and forget that I’m a bit player in other performances. Logically, we all know that every individual is the main character in their own story. However, recently I ran across a word which describes the visceral impact of truly realizing that fact: “Sonder”. Sonder is the lived insight that recognizes that other individuals have complex, compelling and tumultuous currents in their stories – stories which we may not have fully appreciated.
When I discussed this idea with Hen and George, they kind of said “Of course! We already know that – what’s the big deal?” Yet, the word sonder won’t go out of my head – it seemed an epiphany to me: the difference between knowing something and feeling something. Hen asked: Why is this important to you? A good question…
I’m unsure. Maybe I don’t move my chair often enough, so my view is always the same? Maybe I don’t pay attention enough to those around me? My sense has always been that we are all sparks of consciousness dancing in an energy field. Is that dance based on a rhythm we are called to join – or just a stochastic distraction?
I’d like to think that we all share a connection within that energy field and I’m missing the boat by being caught up in my own ‘movie’ too much of the time. I suspect that I’m not the only one who becomes a prisoner of their personal narrative. I am asking my Old Guy buddies (and you, dear readers) to think about what you do to place yourselves in someone else’s perspective.
I’ve determined that I’m going to spend a portion of each day appreciating the story of another person: not invasively, not with a desire to change that story, but simply to honor someone else’s production. I’m going to use “sonder” as my trigger word.
Many Lives to Live
In the 50’s there was a crime show my family always watched. It was Dragnet. The opening line as the show began was, “There are a thousand stories in the Naked City!” I can attest to that as within my family there had to be hundreds. When Wal came up with this topic, I felt like it was an old friend. I knew that from the time I was a young kid. I never knew the word for it but the concept was in my DNA. We were never a Father Knows Best or Leave it to Beaver family. Money was always an issue and that lead to quarrelling and arguments. My dad was no Ward Cleaver either as he tended to nip the alcohol rather heavily which would lead to more quarrels. I learned early on as Hen did when visiting other houses in the neighborhood that this was not normal family life behavior, but I also knew that was something not meant to be shared with the neighbors.
Add to that I slowly began to realize I had something of my own that I had no intention of sharing with anyone, inside or outside of my house. It was a secret too heavy to share and too heavy to hold onto alone for a long time. I didn’t understand it at first and when I reached the teen years and awareness of sexuality the severity and heaviness of the burden became very difficult to bare. So, I packed it away and pretended I myself didn’t believe it. The story got more complicated as I aged, hiding a significant part of my life because I knew how my family and society in general would react. I became an expert at pretense. I was one of those stories in the Naked City!
I learned to bury it and entered relationships in a sincere fashion. I found love, became a productive member of society with a job i absolutely loved and continued along those lines for 27 or so years until the weight of the lie and its effect on my psyche and body was just too much, and I came out! My story abruptly changed and it was difficult at first but I realized that for once I was living my life the way it was intended. To say a huge weight was lifted off my chest is an understatement. It was almost like a rebirth and as things simmered down I realized everyone was carrying some weight of their own that few others knew about. Just a fact of life!
Sitting in YOUR Seat
In “Stars of the Silver Screen,” Wal challenges us to consider sonder—a word that pushes him to step outside his internal views and connect with the rest of us as we navigate our own unique, overlapping lives.
Growing up, my home stood out. In a neighborhood of sixty houses, ours was the only one with a single mother and an absent father. Yet, I assumed everything else was standard—until I visited friends and was shocked by the strange foods they ate, or that they put ketchup on hot dogs instead of mustard! As I grew older, I realized how many viewpoints existed. My mother taught us to accept those differences, though the underlying message I absorbed was that our way was still better—even right.
After a lifetime of work and relationships, I learned that each of us is the star of our own story. Yet Wal consistently inspires me to take what I know, examine it closely, and find ways to grow. This piece is no exception.
Wal asks whether he moves his chair enough. Years ago, as a new principal leading an elementary school through a transition, I wondered if I was truly seeing things from my staff’s perspective. I regularly visited classrooms, observing from the doorways or back corners, but was I close enough?
One Labor Day weekend, after my team had spent days setting up their rooms on their own time, I visited the empty, quiet building. My goal was to write personal notes to all seventy team members—teachers, custodians, assistants, cooks, and aides. In each room, I sat in that person’s chair. Looking out from their vantage point, I gained deeper insight into who they were. Sitting in their space before writing my welcome note forced me out of my own spotlight and allowed me, for a moment, to see the true main character of that room.
Wal concludes with the notion that we all share a connection within that energy field of consciousness. Yet, despite his desire to connect, he often misses opportunities because he doesn’t consider enough what goes into producing each person’s story. Rather than intruding, he simply seeks to become more aware and appreciative. To that, I say: count me in!
“It was a night when all the world seemed to be going somewhere… Every man’s life a story, if you could only read it, but most of us only get to read a few pages of our own.”
-William Thackeray, The History of Pendennis
Three Old Guys Walked Into A Bar 