By Ella
Sonder: the realization that every random passerby is living a life as full and complex as your own.
Sometimes, sitting on the subway, I look around and think about that. As I stress over my own to-do list, family, friends, and everything else crowding my mind, I remember that everyone around me has their own version of those things too: their own people, worries, routines, histories, and stories more intricate than I could ever guess. At home in New York City, it is harder to act on that curiosity. You do not say hi to the stranger whose knee is touching yours on the subway; that is simply not something people do. But somehow, when I am traveling, I feel bolder, more open, more willing to ask questions. And every time I do, even if my heart beats a little faster and I replay the conversation thinking about what I should’ve said differently, I end up feeling more alive. More connected. More reminded of what life is really about.
My gap year has reminded me that beneath the surface differences of age, country, or circumstance, there is something profoundly shared about being human. However separate our lives may appear, we are each moving through some version of the same uncertainty, longing, joy, and loss. To remember that is to move through the world more gently and empathetically, and perhaps to live in it more fully too.
In December, my mom and I did a yoga teacher training together in Costa Rica. It was an amazing three weeks. I learned so much—yoga philosophy, history, anatomy, poses—but I also met so many amazing people.
There was a middle-aged man who had moved from India to Canada and worked in finance. He was perhaps not the most naturally flexible person in the room, but he approached every class with determination, humor, and an unwavering reliance on ChatGPT. He made people laugh easily, and he had a gift for drawing others in, even convincing me to go out with the group when I otherwise would have stayed back. There was something endearing about how unafraid he was to try new things and how seriously he took fun.
There was also an eighteen-year-old from New Jersey with a kind, happy spirit and many tattoos. She did not want to go to college. She had no plans for the rest of the year. And there was another girl, nineteen, from England, who wanted to spend her entire gap year away from home, traveling the world. They were so different from each other, and from me, yet somehow we all got along effortlessly.
And I met a gastroenterologist from Belgium, and a woman from Switzerland who worked as a human rights lawyer. Both were very kind, well-spoken and clearly accomplished, but also understood the importance of stepping away from the busyness of life for a few weeks and taking the time to immerse themselves in yoga teacher training.
In January, I spent a month at a Spanish school in València, Spain and made even more friends. There was a retired anesthesiologist from Germany who sat next to me in class as we struggled through subjunctive exercises together. He had begun his retirement by taking language classes in Spain simply because, as far as I could tell, why not? I loved that. Keep life interesting. Never get too old to become a beginner again.
There was also Carlos, a classmate from Shanghai who loved cats almost as much as I do. And someone from England who, at first glance, felt intimidatingly cool and different from me until she didn’t. That happened again and again this year: people seemed mysterious and unapproachable, but became familiar and friendly the moment I actually worked up the confidence to talk to them.
Now, it can be easy to be fascinated by the people you meet while traveling and think: wow, what a life. It is harder, somehow, to bring that same attentiveness to the people closest to you, the people you think you already know. But why should familiarity get in the way of curiosity?
This year, I have been thinking about that with my own family, especially my grandparents. There are so many stories I have not heard because I never thought to ask the question, or because I assumed there would always be more time. Having this year off gave me more time with family and the chance to sit down and talk with them too.
My grandma, for example, knows how to make life feel festive. I learned that she threw the best parties, even one where everyone dressed up in their old prom dresses and brought a photo from their actual prom night, or a party where everyone had to perform an act, poem, or song. I learned that each of her many friend groups has a silly group name and a yearly reunion, because she is the kind of person who makes sure friends make time for each other. A few weeks ago, I visited her while she was in the hospital, and she somehow turned her struggles into songs—yes actual songs—making herself, her nurses, and me smile, despite everything going on around us. I left thinking: that is the kind of spirit I want to embody, that’s the effect I want to have on others.
Meanwhile, my grandpa and I sat together in the basement doing a puzzle, when he pulled out an old photograph of his mother and started talking. I got to ask questions about his childhood, and truly realized how he was 19 once too. Being with him reminds me that it is okay to slow life down and trust that things will be okay. He has a certain calmness that makes me believe that too. He inspired me to start a puzzle of my own (which my sister and I have slowly been completing together).
And then there is my other grandpa. The past few times I visited him, I made an effort to learn more about him. Behind lots of sarcasm and jokes, I heard about the football games where he was the star, his time in the Navy, and his first love, who he married but then lost to cancer. I even, perhaps for the first time, asked questions about my grandma whom I’ve never met; even after people leave us, their stories don’t. From spending time with my grandpa, I’ve seen the value in always being friendly and making small talk, even with strangers. And from hearing stories about my grandma and her time as a special education teacher, I’m reminded to be the one to lend a helping hand.
There is even so much I don’t know about my own parents. Do you know your parents’ favorite class they’ve ever taken? Or their memories with their childhood best friend? I didn’t either, but now I do. I got to spend time with my mom at yoga teacher training and see her less just as my mom and more as an equal, a friend, a classmate. I got to have philosophical conversations with her, and learned, laughed, and explored alongside her. My dad and I went to the new Universal theme park in Florida where we both embraced our inner child; I felt so lucky to get to spend a whole day doing nothing but having fun and making memories together. Truthfully, I could go on and on about the people I’ve met, or the people I already knew but made more of an effort to truly know—from doormen to friends to sisters to strangers—but I’ll leave you with this:
One of my yoga teachers said that everyone is your teacher, and I keep finding that to be true. Each person you meet has the ability to show you something: a way of living, a way of speaking, a quality you admire, or simply a different version of what a life can look like. Maybe that is one of the best parts of life: not just having your own story, but getting to learn about other people’s, and sometimes briefly become part of them too. I often have to remind myself that it’s not practical, nor beneficial, to engage with everyone or feel the need to always have deep conversations about distant or difficult memories. But, at the very least, knowing that everyone carries a complex story is enough to make us a little kinder to each other.
Through the rest of my gap year and beyond, each person I sit, eat, or walk beside will have a whole life I know nothing about yet. I just have to remember to ask. Or at the very least, show them the kindness and humanity we each deserve.
Yoga teacher training and exploring Costa Rica with my mom!
Spanish school in València, Spain: my teachers, the “Mercat Central” where I got my daily
coffee, and biking with my roommate to see the beach!
Family fun!
