Each day on the way to school, I drive by a few people walking their dogs. The people, timing and dogs have been consistent for the last two years, and as time passed, I began to wonder how they were doing. To this day I do not know their names, but every time I see them I ponder on their lives. I realized that they must have left their homes at practically the same time as me–7 a.m.–and loved their dogs with a similar intensity that I love mine. This experience is encapsulated by the idea of sonder, defined as the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

In my life, sonder has been both big and small. A larger example can be found in my experience in Des Moines, Iowa for Speech & Debate Nationals over this past summer. There was a staircase that led to an upper level where many people were practicing their speeches, and as I looked down while practicing mine, I was struck with awe at everyone below me. Hundreds of students from across America were clustered in one room, and that proximity led me to reflect on how genuinely similar we all were despite having vastly different backgrounds that I will never know fully.

I think the most crucial facet of sonder is that it is not limited by time or space. It can apply to a small group of people–like those I see on my way to school–but it can just as easily be present in larger groups–like looking down a freeway and pondering every car’s destination.

Although sonder is a deeply personal feeling, I believe it can have impacts on external life when we choose to implement it in our interactions. I was reading an essay a few weeks ago that inspired me to adopt a new perspective when it comes to random people in everyday life. The author wrote about seeing people in the lens of those that love them. Through this lens, for example, the elderly couple on the bus become someone’s adoring grandparents and the seemingly brusque girl at the store becomes someone’s supportive best friend. It is a uniquely empathetic, humane outlook on life.

This is not to say that sonder should be used to ignore or excuse hateful and otherwise negative behavior, but rather to encourage choosing empathy and giving benefit of the doubt–more than those who might exhibit such patterns. Assuming the best is not always realistic or beneficial, but it has been a philosophy of mine for a while now that stooping to the level of those who cause harm to others does not truly benefit anyone long-term. After all, if that were the mindset of everyone, cyclical negativity would permeate the world.

I think sonder impacts everyone at some abstract point in their lives, but perhaps it is time to make an intentional shift to see life in that way more often. It is relatively easy to be empathetic toward those you can see yourself being similar to–those people on my street live near me and love dogs like me, those at Nationals were in the same speech event as me–but it becomes more challenging to feel sonder toward groups of individuals who are nothing like you.

This becomes evident with the dehumanization of several groups, from immigrants to victims of gun violence and sexual assault. Widespread generalizations of groups like these plague modern society and lead to unimaginable harm. Sonder attempts to break those stereotypes with the specific realization that everyone has their own story, with as much nuance as one’s own.

Ultimately, notable experiences–both big and small–have led me to value the primarily subconscious existence of sonder. Despite only being able to recall feeling it in a few specific moments, I implore myself and anyone reading this to make an intentional shift in perspective when it comes to random, everyday people. The reality is that from distant dog-walkers to each other, everyone lives a vivid and complex life, and internalizing this will foster a sense of empathy that the world desperately needs.