03 Apr Same
Off the coast of the Pacific Northwest, orcas have been spotted wearing salmon as hats. They appear to be plucking dead fish from the water and balancing them on their heads like a fashion accessory, gliding through the sea with what looks suspiciously like delight.
No one’s sure why. The last time this happened was in the 1980s, when one orca did it, and then the others followed. Decades passed, and then one day, an orca tried it again. And another. And another.
Maybe it wasn’t just play. Maybe it was recognition. Oh, you do this too? Same.
It’s a quiet kind of joy, that moment of seeing yourself reflected in someone else. The sense of belonging in something as simple as a shared quirk, a familiar habit, an unspoken understanding. It happens to us, too, in ways big and small.
It’s almost the end of the school year, and I still haven’t mastered the art of responding to morning chaos with calm. Same.
I sometimes tell the barista “You too!” when they say “Enjoy your coffee” and replay it in my head all day. Same.
I tell myself I’ll go to bed early, and suddenly it’s midnight and I’m watching a video of someone power-washing a driveway. Same.
I google a weird symptom, convince myself it’s probably nothing but also maybe something, and wonder why I do this to myself. Same.
What a relief, to discover we’re not the only ones.
There’s something deeply joyful about seeing ourselves in others—about finding out that the small, ridiculous, or tender things we do in isolation are, in fact, shared.
Maybe that’s what the orcas are doing. Maybe one of them hoisted a fish onto its head, and another thought, You know what? Same. And just like that, the whales felt a little warmer, a little happier, a little less alone.
How lucky we are to have each other.