Sonder

"Sonder — noun. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own." - The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.

Imogen’s day had started as “one of those days”. On her routine morning walk, she tripped over a crack in the path, scraped her knee and spilt coffee all over herself in one swift motion. Flustered, in pain and dripping in coffee, she looked for somewhere away from the path, to sit and pull herself back together. She noticed a bench under a fig tree in the centre of the park and made her way over to it.

When she got closer, Imogen noticed that there was something sitting on the end of the bench. It was a sandwich bag with a little black book inside of it. How odd. She looked around to see if there was anyone close by that may have left it there, but there didn’t seem to be. Forgetting the knee pain and coffee incident, Imogen sat down on the bench and picked up the book. She turned it around in her hands for a while, wondering how it got there and contemplated whether or not she should open it. Curiosity got the better of her and she decided to open it.

She randomly flicked through the book. At first glance it looked like every page was the same, a series of questions and answers - probably someone’s daily journal. But upon further inspection, she noticed that while each page did have the same questions, they all had different handwriting and each page was signed off with a different name at the bottom. This intrigued her. So, she went back to the very first page. It read:-

1. Answer the questionnaire
2. Write the same questionnaire, without answers, on the next blank page
3. Put the journal back in the plastic bag for protection and seal it
4. Leave the journal in a public place for the next person to find

Imogen felt excited. She felt a spark inside of her that she hadn’t felt in a while. It was serendipitous. If the series of little accidents hadn’t of occurred on her morning walk, then she wouldn’t have needed to find a bench to sit on and she wouldn’t have found the little black book. Lately, every day had felt the same to her. The same morning walk, the same day at work, the same night at home, followed by the same thing all over again. But this morning was something different to the usual, it was unexpected and mysterious and a little bit fun.

Imogen went home, made a fresh cup of coffee, grabbed her favourite pink pen and sat down at her kitchen table with the book.

She decided not to read the other answers in the book until she had answered her own. She flicked through the pages until finally, she came to the very last page. She was going to be the last contributor to the book. Imogen noticed that the book had 192 pages. It amazed her to think that the book had gone through the hands of 192 strangers who were all living their own lives, unaware of each other. 192 strangers who had all written their hopes, dreams, fears, mistakes, advice and words in this little black book.

At the bottom of her page it already had something written: “When entire journal is complete, please return by registered post to PO Box 1719, CLAIREREED WL 0906”. Imogen wondered what the purpose of this book was. Who started it and what was going to become of it once it was returned to its original owner? So many questions ran through her mind but she put them aside to answer her questionnaire.

The questionnaire went as follows:

Date:

Where were you born?

Where did you find this book?

How did you find this book?

What is worrying you?

What are you hopeful for?

What is your greatest loss?

What are you grateful for?

What is your goal for the future?

What is your biggest mistake and what did you learn from it?

What are you afraid of?

What is the best advice you could give to someone?

What is your favourite affirmation?

Did you read the other pages?

Your postal Address:

Your Age:

Your Name:

What did you learn from this book?

Once Imogen had completed her answers, she went back to the beginning of the book to read the answers before hers. She noticed that the first questionnaire was dated 25 years ago. That made her think about all of the other book contributors again – what became of them all? And the original owner, what became of them? Would they still have access to the PO Box?

In the short time she had possessed it, this little book had sparked a lot of thought within Imogen. Reading all of the pages before hers gave her an insight into the lives of complete strangers and in turn changed the way she approached her daily life. She was more grateful for what she had, because she was more aware that some people had much less. She noticed that while there were many differences among the books contributors, there were far more similarities. It didn’t matter their age or where they were born, all of them had suffered some type of loss, all of them had made mistakes, all of them had goals for their future and most of them just hoped for happiness. She wondered if they had all experienced the same realisations as her. Based on most of their answers, she thought they had.

Four weeks after Imogen returned the book to the PO Box, she received an envelope in the mail. She opened it and inside was a hand written letter with another small envelope attached to it. The small envelope had the words “read letter first” written on the front.

The letter read:-

"Dear Imogen,

I hope this letter finds you well. Thank you for your contribution to the journal. I imagine you are still wondering its purpose, so let me explain. I started this journal many years ago. I was having a bad day and felt the need to get the thoughts out of my head and on to some paper. So, I went to the store and purchased a journal. I went to the park, sat on a bench and started to write. What came out was the questionnaire on the first page. While I was writing, I was looking at the many people around me going about their day. Pushing prams, walking dogs, hurrying to their jobs. I realised in that moment that I was not alone. All of them were living their own complex lives, with their own bad days, their own worries and their own hopes and dreams. Before that moment, I was completely oblivious to this. I was so wrapped up in my own existence. I sat on that bench for hours, just watching and wondering. I felt so much gratitude and clarity that I wished everyone could experience. So, I had an idea. I wrote the same questions I had answered (plus a few more), on the next page of the journal and left them unanswered. I wrote down a series of guidelines in the front and a return address in the back. I tipped the crumbs out of my sandwich bag, put the journal inside of it and left it on the bench for the next person to find. My belief was that whoever needed to find the journal, would find it. My hope was that everyone who found it and wrote in it after me, would feel the same clarity, gratitude and sense of belonging that I felt that day. I hoped that each person would read the answers before theirs, which would set off a chain reaction, changing the way they viewed their own lives, the way they viewed the world around them and the way they viewed each other. I have read every page of the journal and I think it was successful in doing all of the above. As a final incentive for you to keep being kind and mindful of others as you go through life, I have enclosed a gift for you in the attached envelope.

Remember, a bad day can (and often does) turn into a good day.

Kindly,

JK"

Imogen opened the small envelope and enclosed was a cheque in her favour, for the sum of $20,000.00.

It may have taken some time, but the perspective Imogen now had on life, paired with the generous windfall, was a wonderful end, to that bad day that had started it all.

The End.