Candid Conversations Newsletter: Beyond Frames, Where Conversations Become Bridges

How Small Encounters Remind Us We’re Not Alone 🤝✨

This week was harder than most.

You ever have one of those weeks where you start with optimism—clear intentions, well-laid plans, even a few whispered hopes—only to be met with more of the same?
Disappointments. Delays. Curveballs you thought you’d already worked through.
Some might shrug and say, “That’s life—c’est la vie.” And maybe it is.

But I’ve come to believe there’s value in sitting with disappointment.
Not to wallow—but to wonder.
To ask what it’s trying to teach.
To pull back the layers and find the lesson in the letdown.

A Tall Stranger and a Short Conversation 🧍🏿‍♂️🥁

Earlier this week, I was out running a quick errand when I met him.

A tall, older gentleman—easily 6’5”, maybe 230–240 lbs. The kind of presence that shifts the room just by walking in. The kind of person who’s probably been asked a thousand times, “How tall are you?”

Still, I was curious.

“What sports did you play in high school?” I asked.
“Football,” he replied, his voice brightening.
“Were you any good?”
“I was okay,” he said. “But my brother—he was the star. I was always in his shadow.”

There was so much to unpack in that one line.

“I played drums in the band, too. That—I was good at,” he added, a note of pride in his voice.
“And I did gymnastics, actually,” he added with a half-smile, as if expecting disbelief. “That was my favorite. I liked the challenge.”
“Seriously?” I asked, a little surprised.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Mostly cheerleading and floor stuff. You know, lifting up those girls can take a toll, but I made it work.”

I laughed. “That’s awesome.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It was fun. Band, gymnastics…”

“Do you still play drums?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah… these days, I mostly just watch TV and rest.”

I mentioned that he still had the build of an athlete—because he did.
He nodded. “Yeah, I try. But it’s harder now than it used to be.”

I suggested yoga.
“I tried it once,” he said. “It was harder than it looked.”
“It is,” I replied. “But it helps with recovery. Makes you more mindful of your body.”

We stood there a few minutes longer—strangers-turned-brief-conversationalists.
Just talking.
No pretense. No performance. Just presence.

Bridging the Distance—Again 🌉🔁

And in that small exchange, I was reminded:

Connection doesn’t require a perfect moment—just a willing one.

In last week’s edition, we explored loneliness and the idea of social capital—specifically bridging and bonding capital. I shared a moment with Robert, an older man I met at a bar in Atlanta, whose quiet honesty and openness left a mark.

Like that night, my moment with Mr. Tall Man this week was another quiet instance of bridging: two people from different worlds connecting over curiosity, shared stories, and the simple act of being present.

We’ve never had more ways to reach each other—and never used them less meaningfully.

Sometimes, what limits us isn’t our access, but our frame.
The stories we tell ourselves about who we are—and who we assume others must be.
We stay stuck in the familiar because it feels safer than risking the unknown.

But what if connection isn’t something we find—it’s something we create?

Not with everyone. Not all the time.
But with intention.
With attention.
With the simple courage to ask a question—and care enough to listen to the answer.

That’s where the foundation of belonging begins.

High Agency, Low Agency, and the Power of Choice ⚖️🧠

In moments like the one I shared, we’re reminded that connection requires agency—not just opportunity.

High Agency is the ability to shape your response, regardless of the circumstances.
It’s asking the question, extending the olive branch, showing up even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.
It’s choosing curiosity over comfort.
Presence over autopilot.

Low Agency, on the other hand, often shows up quietly—in resignation, in the belief that things just are the way they are.
It’s the inner voice that says, “What’s the point?” or “That’s not my place.”
It’s not weakness—it’s protection. But it can become a pattern that limits possibility.

The loneliness epidemic isn’t just a social crisis—it’s a spiritual one.

In his 2023 advisory, U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy wrote:

“Loneliness is far more than just a bad feeling—it harms both individual and societal health. It is associated with a greater risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, stroke, depression, anxiety, and premature death.”

“Given the profound consequences of loneliness and isolation, we have an opportunity—and an obligation—to make the same investments in social connection that we have made in other critical areas of public health.”

That “opportunity” he speaks of? That’s Agency.
Collective, yes—but also deeply personal.
Because the antidote to disconnection isn’t simply proximity—it’s participation. And participation requires effort, vulnerability, and the belief that something more is possible.

We don’t have to fix the epidemic alone. But we can choose not to add to it.

Sometimes that looks like staying in the conversation just a little longer.
Other times, it’s saying yes to the invite. Or asking the next question.
Sometimes, it’s saying: “I see you. I hear you. You matter.”

That’s high agency.
That’s how connection grows.
That’s how belonging begins—again and again.

Grounded by an Unexpected Moment 🌿🌀

I could’ve stayed in disappointment—and rightfully so. It was real. My truth.

But even in the midst of all that was happening, I met someone. A stranger. Or maybe a reminder of who I used to be—who I still am.

And just like that, we crossed paths. A moment that wasn’t random—just… unexpected.

We talked about movement. About the body. About what it can still do when it has a reason to try.
Athleticism, sure—but also joy. Fleeting, maybe. But real.

And somehow, that grounded me.

What About You? ❓🌱

When was the last time you looked beyond your circumstances—and created a bridge?