Sonder & The Art of Noticing

Finding comfort in connection—through cities, strangers, and Whitman’s words.

We all share this quiet, stubborn little thing called humanity–the force that binds us, frees us, and holds us when nothing else will. Of the 117 billion lives lived, with their chaos of thoughts, feelings, and fleeting moments–surely someone, somewhere, sometime has felt every emotion that has beat your heart. Sit with that for a moment: the thought that love, joy, sorrow, and anger are not confined by time, skin, and the laws of nature.

I think, somewhere along the way, we stopped noticing that soft miracle humming beneath our skin.

And sometimes, it takes an intellect like Walt Whitman to string it out of us. Now forewarning, this piece of lengthy, but one I believe will be worth every word as we uncover the profound life truths that cross the lines of the poem, “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.” And this piece isn’t just about a ferry ride… it’s about the invisible threads between us–the shared ache of living, the hope that someone, somewhere, understands. (This is an abridged version of the poem, where I've selected what I believe are its most treasured lines to share in four pieces throughout this close reading.)

On Noticing)

We start with a setting… a place. Decorated by clouds and the setting of the sun, with a curious voice discovering something.

This poem is a cinematic masterpiece, following a man (Walt Whitman), crossing the East River, on his way home from work as he looks on the people around him.

It is, in essence, a meditation on the art of noticing, and sonder. Whitman leans into the small details of the lives around us, the wondering, and the revelations that come with it.

Whitman’s “simple, compact, well-join’d scheme” might just be life itself–messy, intertwined, yet purposefully designed to bring us closer to one another. And when he speaks of being “disintegrated,” perhaps it’s a warning: that when we stop noticing, we unravel.

We sit in lines, eyes glued to our phones, passing time by scrolling through 15-second glimpses into strangers’ lives–when all along, the real stories are happening right in front of us. Every passerby holds a secret of the universe we may never uncover. The world is a living, breathing reality show–one we could step into or even just simply admire as it unfolds. So why do we limit ourselves? Why choose distraction over discovery?

We have separated ourselves from each other, from meaning, from the joy of being present.

Walt seems to have discovered the secret to this joy in the “glories” on his “smallest sights and hearings,” on a simple ferry crossing from Brooklyn to New York. He softly tugs on the strings, “the ties between me and them,” and in that he finds “the certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of others.” In this simple place, there is a beautiful passion that lies within the people. They all await something vastly different on the other side of the river, yet share in the waiting and wishing no matter what it may be. This you can be certain of.

He finds a moment when different strings of humanity intertwine, and oh what a masterpiece it makes.

On Sonder)

Sonder- the realization that each person you encounter, even a stranger, has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

Here Whitman feels for the future, all the souls to stir in this same place his feet were. He challenges the “differences” that seem to pull us apart by negating notions of time and distance. “What is it then between us? / What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? / Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not.”

This is my favorite couple of lines in the entire poem. That question, “what is it then between us?” The only thing that truly separates us is the mistaken belief that we are not connected, that we owe nothing to one another.

Yes we all have separate passions, dreams, roles to play, talents, loves, and stories, but we all exist between the pages of humanity trying to carve our own words with ink and heart. Whitman is simply exuding the curiosity that comes with this realization, and the care that follows. To contemplate and draw meaning from it–to realize that even if we never truly meet these people, we can still know them, because we’ve all felt love, pain, and longing.

On Connection)

We all share the capacity for emotion, yet we often underestimate the weight of that truth. Judgment, callousness, and retribution must coexist with love, empathy, and self-reflection. For what lives in me might live in you–the same old laughing, gnawing, hoping. The same flickers of light and periods of darkness.

It is not weakness to feel; it is recognition. Of each other. Of the invisible thread that binds our lives across years and bodies. We understand then, do we not? What could not be taught in books or enforced in laws, we have begun to carry… in silence, in stillness, in the simple ache of being alive. We share this beautiful, bountiful thing called humanity, and we must not take it for granted.

This last stanza possesses power. It is a love letter to the places and pieces of life that do bind us, that we shall fathom and love.

Rivers we cross often hold the quiet promise of change–of something waiting on the other side, hoped for and shared. In the overwhelming bustle, in cities that hum with movement and make you feel impossibly small, remember: pieces of you live in the strangers around you. The same laughing, gnawing, loving, living. These cities carry our burdens and our dreams, filled with souls just trying to furnish their own. And where one falls short, another quietly fills the gap.

Parts of us–our passions, our promises, the people we love–live on through those who came before and those who come after. And especially, do not dwell only on the present–see the past and future as gifts too. The footprints that paved the ground you stand on, and those still to come, are all part of this grand, unfolding scheme. Do not let time diminish your attention for them, remember that all the beautiful things in life do not run according to a clock.

Hold onto that truth. Plant the prospect of cities and sonder deep in your soul, and let it bloom into comfort.

So the next time you're walking through town, riding the ferry, stuck in traffic, or even waiting in line at the grocery store… take a moment to notice the people around you. Don’t dismiss them as just extra bodies, but as spirits–just like you–longing to feel fully, to be alive and well, and to recognize that same spirit reflected back in you. Notice. Contemplate. Smile. Admire. Recognize. Only then can we ever realize we are never alone.

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