Sonder
Sonder (n.): The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own — populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness — an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.
It’s been about two years since I dropped out of school to pursue my dreams of playing poker professionally and what a ride it’s been.
From going near broke in New York home games to transitioning from 500 to 5k NL within a year online and playing stakes as large as $100/$200 live (Texas games are unmatched), the little kid who had one-thousand dollars to his name and frequently deposited over half his net-worth on poker apps via random zelle accounts located in Brazil would have never thought this was all possible.
But the reason why I felt compelled to write today isn’t to share the ups and downs that come from the journey as a poker pro. Firstly, I think I’ve done plenty of that and there always seems to be some new kid coming up with an innate hunger for the game that is reminiscent of the hunger I had coming up. Being 23, I occasionally feel like a fossil in terms of poker years. But secondly, in practice poker has become less and less meaningful in what I believe my life’s purpose is.
Don’t get me wrong, poker will always fascinate me as a student of the game. Looking at poker from a strategical, emotional, and psychological viewpoint, it’s a never-ending fascinatingly complex game. Some instances that come to mind are how some of the top players approach certain spots and come to similar conclusions with different thought processes, the emotional rollercoaster of swinging large sums of dollars in both directions, the metagame of getting inside an opponent’s heads to figure out what they’re doing and why they’re doing what they’re doing.
But in practice, and the further I’ve gone down this journey, I’ve increasingly felt that the zero-sum nature of the game causes the game to lose its humanity and purposefulness. A big reason why a poker player can even have a career out of a card game (such as myself), is because a dentist nearby has a severe gambling addiction or a kid who is born into a wealthy family is likely being irresponsible with their dad’s hard-earned dollars. You’d be surprised how many drug-dealers can find a way to deposit money onto an online site or bring cash to a local casino. The point is, the money made in poker has to come from somewhere/someone.
If I were to be transparent and actually try to break down the percentage of poker player’s who can successfully make a living out of only playing poker we could estimate it to be something like this (fwiw my numbers are probably way off but regardless I’ll give it a shot). Let’s assume 10% of overall players are significant winners meaning able to make significant income from this game. Of that percentage, only a fraction are actually able to sustainably figure out a grind that works out for them long-term (factoring in location, games they have access to, tax situations, etc). Of that percentage, only a fraction of players don’t have leaks outside the table, whether it be blowing money on the pits or degenerate sports-betting (poker player’s are unsurprisingly poor at holding onto money). Of that percentage, only a fraction of players can truly say that going down this path has been a net-positive for their life (such as meaningful relationships off the felt and having life-balance). All the while you have to spend a significant amount of capital on investing in yourself through coaching, learn how to deal with people who don’t have your best interests at heart, and manage the inevitable swings. To make it just through poker alone, you have to be a little bit self-delusional and psychotic, it just comes with the nature of the game. It’s no surprise that many poker player’s have transitioned out of the game or have something going on in addition to being a poker player alone.
However, the last fraction of player’s who can truly say being in this card game has been a net-positive for their life has been the biggest hurdle for me. Isolating myself and getting in the lab hours each day was necessary for me to personally rise up the stakes. But naturally, it came at a cost whether it be sacrificing relationships or self-distancing myself from others. There’s a certain level of grit and obsession needed to become elite at any craft.
Quickly observing some of the guys who are further down this career path than I am and it’s very seldom that I would want any of these guy’s lives, despite their financial success. Conversations quickly become transactional and many seem worn-down both emotionally and/or physically. I guess it just comes with the territory - you don’t just make a million dollars by just asking for it. You should assume that there will be some sort of cost and sacrifice that comes along with it.
This of course is not to say that I haven’t met some of the most amazing human beings going down this journey. Maybe it was just luck or fate, but there are very few people who I can say have touched my life in such a meaningful way and I wouldn’t trade anything in the world to have it any other way.
However, as your early twenties are such a transitory phase of your life, the sobering reality is that people phase in-and-out. Such was the case with a recent friendship I cherished dearly.
I find it funny how life works. If I wasn’t such a head-strong, obstinate kid who left home on his own accord to go live in one of the largest cities in the world, I would have never have crossed paths with these beautiful individuals whose friendships I will hold onto dearly throughout my life.
I suppose the direction I’m aiming to go with this post is that life goes by quick - much quicker than I would have thought. It’s already been two years since I was that ambitious albeit reckless kid who was willing to do everything it took to succeed in this zero-sum card game. It was a sort of escapism, I suppose.
But, my priorities and my identity has shifted from that kid who I was two years ago.
And while two years may not seem like a long-time, it won’t be that much longer before five years pass by, and then ten. By then, I’d be thirty and wonder how different my life will look then than it does now.
I don’t feel as much of the need to prove myself anymore. I don’t care to play the numbers game. I’d much rather cultivate experiences and prioritize social connections.
We often get caught up in our daily activities and grind when we fail to recognize what’s important. We often care too much about things that don’t matter, but if you think about it, the perspective of one human being compared to the rest of the universe is quite insignificant. You are one single human, in a single state, in a single country, in a single continent, in a single Earth, in a single galaxy among trillions of galaxies.
The reality is that people are born and leave this Earth each day. The cycle of life is omnipresent. People forget and move on quickly. Life is impermeant.
It’s scary thinking that people likely don’t care as much as you think, but it’s also invigorating. The way I view it is to not give so much a fuck about things that probably don’t matter and just try to cultivate the best human experience that you can.
Because what truly matters when you’re on the verge of leaving this planet. To me, it’s not the money I made nor possessions I own, but rather the experiences I can recount and the meaningful friendships that I can hold dear.